mother's hand in the street with a proud air, sticking out his little
chest with its red ribbon and metal star so that it might show to
advantage.

His studies were not a success, and he failed in his examination for
Bachelor of Arts; so, not knowing what to do, he married a pretty girl,
as he had plenty of money of his own.

They lived in Paris, as many rich middle-class people do, mixing with
their own particular set, and proud of knowing a deputy, who might
perhaps be a minister some day, and counting two heads of departments
among their friends.

But M. Caillard could not get rid of his one absorbing idea, and he felt
constantly unhappy because he had not the right to wear a little bit of
colored ribbon in his buttonhole.

When he met any men who were decorated on the boulevards, he looked at
them askance, with intense jealousy. Sometimes, when he had nothing to do
in the afternoon, he would count them, and say to himself: "Just let me
see how many I shall meet between the Madeleine and the Rue Drouot."

Then he would walk slowly, looking at every coat with a practiced eye for
the little bit of red ribbon, and when he had got to the end of his walk
he always repeated the numbers aloud.

"Eight officers and seventeen knights. As many as that! It is stupid to
sow the cross broadcast in that fashion. I wonder how many I shall meet
going back?"