to beat a retreat without appearing to run away. He left the shop,
walking backwards, for he knew that a man must never show his back
to the enemy, because his back is far more sensitive than ever his
face could be.

And on he went on the blue and white carpet. The passage was not
a straight one, but wound and curved so that it was impossible to
see the end of it; and still there were new shops, and still no
people and no shop proprietors. But Victor, taught by his experience,
understood that they were all in the back parlours.

At last he came to a scent shop, which smelt of all the flowers of
wood and meadow; he thought of his sweetheart and decided to go in
and buy her a bottle of Eau-de-Cologne.

No sooner thought than done. The shop was very much like the snail
shop, but the scent of the flowers was so overpowering that it made
his head ache, and he had to sit down on a chair. A strong smell
of almonds caused a buzzing in his cars, but left a pleasant taste
in his mouth, like cherry-wine. Victor, never at a loss, felt in
his pocket for his little brass box, that had a tiny mirror on the
inside of the lid, and put a piece of chewing tobacco in his mouth;
this cleared his brain and cured his headache. Then he rapped on
the counter and shouted:--

"Hallo! Any one there?"

There was no answer. "I'd better go into the back parlour," he
thought, "and do my shopping there." He took a little run, put his
right hand on the counter and cleared it at a bound. Then he pushed