remarkable instance of the great power of mere individuality over
the young.




PART ONE




CHAPTER I



Certain streets have an atmosphere of their own, a sort of
universal fame and the particular affection of their citizens. One
of such streets is the Cannebiere, and the jest: "If Paris had a
Cannebiere it would be a little Marseilles" is the jocular
expression of municipal pride. I, too, I have been under the
spell. For me it has been a street leading into the unknown.

There was a part of it where one could see as many as five big
cafes in a resplendent row. That evening I strolled into one of
them. It was by no means full. It looked deserted, in fact,
festal and overlighted, but cheerful. The wonderful street was
distinctly cold (it was an evening of carnival), I was very idle,
and I was feeling a little lonely. So I went in and sat down.

The carnival time was drawing to an end. Everybody, high and low,