And he returned slowly, unhappy when the crowd of passers-by interfered
with his vision.

He knew the places where most were to be found. They swarmed in the
Palais Royal. Fewer were seen in the Avenue de l'Opera than in the Rue de
la Paix, while the right side of the boulevard was more frequented by
them than the left.

They also seemed to prefer certain cafes and theatres. Whenever he saw a
group of white-haired old gentlemen standing together in the middle of
the pavement, interfering with the traffic, he used to say to himself:

"They are officers of the Legion of Honor," and he felt inclined to take
off his hat to them.

He had often remarked that the officers had a different bearing to the
mere knights. They carried their head differently, and one felt that they
enjoyed a higher official consideration and a more widely extended
importance.

Sometimes, however, the worthy man would be seized with a furious hatred
for every one who was decorated; he felt like a Socialist toward them.

Then, when he got home, excited at meeting so many crosses--just as
a poor, hungry wretch might be on passing some dainty provision
shop--he used to ask in a loud voice:

"When shall we get rid of this wretched government?"

And his wife would be surprised, and ask: