we were. We fled from the truth! In
these great happenings we become strangers to each other for the reason
that we never knew each other profoundly. We are vaguely separated on
earth from everybody else, but we are mightily distant from our
nearest.

* * * * * *

After all these things, my former life resumed its indifferent course.
Certainly I am not so unhappy as they who have the bleeding wound of a
bereavement or remorse, but I am not so delighted with life as I once
hoped to be. Ah, men's love and women's beauty are too short-lived in
this world; and yet, is it not only thereby that we and they exist? It
might be said that love, so pure a thing, the only one worth while in
life, is a crime, since it is always punished sooner or later. I do
not understand. We are a pitiful lot; and everywhere about us--in our
movements, within our walls, and from hour to hour, there is a stifling
mediocrity. Fate's face is gray.

Notwithstanding, my personal position has established itself and
progressively improved. I am getting three hundred and sixty francs a
month, and besides, I have a share in the profits of the litigation
office--about fifty francs a month. It is a year and a half since I
was stagnating in the little glass office, to which Monsieur Mielvaque
has been promoted, succeeding me. Nowadays they say to me, "You're
lucky!" They envy me--who once envied so many people. It astonishes
me at first, then I get used to it.

I have restored my political plans, but this time I have a rational and
normal policy in view. I am nominated to succeed Crillon in the Town
Council. There, no doubt, I shall arrive sooner or later. I continue
to become a personality by the force of circumstances, without my
noticing it, and without any real interest in me on the part of those
around me.

Quite a piece of my life has now gone by. When sometimes I think of
that, I am surprised at the length of the time elapsed; at the number
of the days and the years that are dead. It has come quickly, and
without much change in myself on the other hand; and I turn away from
that vision, at once real and supernatural. And yet, in spite of
myself, my future appears before my eyes--and its end. My future will
resemble my past; it does so already. I can dimly see all my life,
from one end to the other, all that I am, all that I shall have been.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BRAWLER

At the ti