each month, like everybody.

"I say!" cried Crillon, pulling me outside with him, as I was coming in
one evening; "I must let you know that you've been spoken of
spontanially for the Town Council at the next renewment. They're
making a big effort, you know. Monsieur the Marquis is going to stand
for the legislative elections--but we've walked into the other
quarter," said Crillon, stopping dead. "Come back, come back."

We turned right-about-face.

"This patriotic society of Monsieur Joseph," Crillon went on, "has done
a lot of harm to the anarchists. We've all got to let 'em feel our
elbows, that's necessential. You've got a foot in the factory, eh?
You see the workmen; have a crack of talk with 'em. You ingreasiate
yourself with 'em, so's some of 'em'll vote for you. For _them's_ the
danger."

"It's true that I am very sympathetic to them," I murmured, impressed
by this prospect.

Crillon came to a stand in front of the Public Baths. "It's the
seventeenth to-day," he explained; "the day of the month when I takes a
bath. Oh, yes! I know that _you_ go every Thursday; but I'm not of
that mind. You're young, of course, and p'raps you have good reason!
But you take my tip, and hobnob with the working man. We must bestir
ourselves and impell ourselves, what the devil! As for me, I've
finished my political efforts for peace and order. It's _your_ turn!"

He is right. Looking at the ageing man, I note that his framework is
slightly bowed; that his ill-shaven cheeks are humpbacked with little
ends of hair turning into white crystals. In his lowly sphere he has
done his duty. I reflect upon the mite-like efforts of the unimportant
people; of the mountains of tasks performed by anonymity. They are
necessary, these hosts of people so closely resembling each other; for
cities are built upon the poor brotherhood of paving-stones.

He is right, as always. I, who am still young; I, who am on a higher
level than his; I must play a part, and subdue the desire one has to
let things go on as they may.

A sudden movement of will appears in my life, which otherwise proceeds
as usual.

CHAPTER VI

A VOICE IN THE EVENING

I approached the workpeople with all possible sympathy. The toiler's
lot, moreover, raises interesting problems, which one should seek to
understand. So I inform myself in the matter of those around me.

"You want to see the greasers' work? Here I am," said Marcassin,
surnamed P