even the one advantage he possessed, of being unknown to her.

Though he entertained no very high opinion of himself, he certainly
held fate responsible for his natural deficiencies. He was poor,
he reasoned, and therefore had no right to fall in love. Ah!
if only he were wealthy and familiar with all the things idle,
prosperous people know, how entirely the splendour of his material
surroundings would be in harmony with the splendour of his passion!
What blundering, ferocious god of cruelty had immured in the dungeon
of poverty this soul of his that so overflowed with desires?

He opened his window and caught sight of his father's apprentice
on his way back to the workshop. The lad stood there on the pavement
talking with naive effrontery to a little book-stitcher of his
acquaintance. He was kissing the girl, without a thought of the
passers-by, and whistling a tune between his teeth. The pretty,
sickly-looking slattern carried her rags with an air, and wore
a pair of smart, well-made boots; she was pretending to push
her admirer away, while really doing just the opposite, for the
slim yet broad-shouldered stripling in his blue blouse had a
certain townified elegance and the "conquering hero" air of the
suburban dancing-saloons. When he left her, she looked back
repeatedly; but he was examining the saveloys in a pork-butcher's
window, never giving another thought to the girl.

Jean, as he looked on at the little scene, found himself envying
his father's apprentice.