Chapter 361 Four suction and off

In the late spring and early summer of 1833, the few passers-by in the swamp, the merchants in their shops, and the idlers standing at the door, all noticed an old man in neat black clothes, who came from the city at a certain hour every evening. Exit the Rue des Warriors, on the side of the Rue Sainte-Croix, pass the white coat shop, pass the Rue Sainte-Catherine, go to the Rue de la Cape, turn left and enter Rue Saint-Louis. Here he slowed down, headed forward, saw nothing, heard nothing, and fixed his eyes on a single object, which to him was a starry place, which was nothing but the Rue des Passiones. corner.The nearer he came to the corner of the street, the more his eyes shone, and some joy, like the inner morning light, made his eyes shine, and his expression seemed attracted and moved, and his lips slightly Trembling, as if speaking to an invisible person, he was smiling in a trance, so he tried to walk as slowly as possible.It seemed that he wanted to get there, but at the same time was afraid that he was getting too close.When he was only a few houses away from the street that seemed to attract him, his steps were so slow that one sometimes thought he was not walking.His head was bobbing and his gaze was fixed, as if a compass were looking for the poles.Though he procrastinated, he arrived at last; and when he reached the Rue de la Passione, he stopped, trembling, and with a sort of melancholy timidity, put his head out of the corner of the last house, and looked at the road. Street, his miserable gaze seemed dazzled by an impossibility, a reflection of a closed heaven.Then a drop of tear accumulated at the corner of the eye little by little, and then fell into a big teardrop, flowing on the cheek, and sometimes stopped at the corner of the mouth.The old man tasted the bitterness of tears.He stayed like this for a few minutes, like a stone man; then he went back the same way, going further and further at the same pace, and his eyes dimmed accordingly.

Gradually, the old man stopped walking to the corner of the Rue de la Crucis, and stopped halfway along the Rue Saint-Louis; sometimes a little farther, sometimes a little closer.One day he stopped at the corner of Rue St. Catherine's Park, looking out over the Rue de la Crucis.Then he shook his head quietly, as if refusing a bit of his request, and turned back. Before long he could not even walk the Rue Saint-Louis.He walked to Paving Street, shook his head and went back; then he did not exceed Santing Street; at last he did not exceed White Coat Shop; like an unwound clock, the pendulum swings gradually shortens the distance, waiting Completely stop.

Every day he leaves the house at the same time, he begins his original journey, but never completes it, maybe he is shortening it unconsciously.The whole expression of his face expressed this single thought: Why bother!The eyes are dull and lustrous; the tear is dry, it no longer gathers in the corner of the eye; the pensive eye is dry, but the old man's head always rushes forward; the jaw sometimes wobbles; poor his neck is so thin and wrinkled .Sometimes when the weather is bad, he carries an umbrella under his arm, which he never opens, and the women in the area say, "That's a fool." The children laugh after him.