about wildly in this old fashioned coat and wide trousers. And nothing
was as funny as the contrast between his quiet dress and slow trotting
pace, the winning way he combed his head, and the conceited movements
of his hands, with which he fanned himself, like a silly girl.

Soon the older lads and the girls, the old women, men of ripe age and
even the Judicial Councilor joined the little brats, and hooted
_Mademoiselle_, while the astonished idiot ran away, and rushed into the
house with terror. There he took his poor head between both hands, and
tried to comprehend the matter. Why were they angry with him? For it was
quite evident that they were angry with him. What wrong had he done, and
whom had he injured, by dressing as a boy? Was he not a boy, after all?
For the first time in his life, he felt a horror for his nickname, for
had he not been insulted through it? But immediately he was seized with
a horrible doubt.

"Suppose that, after all, I was a girl?"

He would have liked to ask his guardian about it but he did not want to,
for he somehow felt, although only obscurely, that he, worthy man, might
not tell him the truth, out of kindness. And, besides, he preferred to
find out for himself, without asking anyone.

All his idiot's cunning, which had been lying latent up till then,
because he never had any occasion to make use of it, now came out and
urged him to a solitary and dark action.

The next day he dressed himself as a girl again, and made his appearance
as if he had perfectly forgotten his escapade of the day before, but the
people, especially the street boys, had not forgotten it. They looked at