he did by dying. He had died of wounds at the
battle of the Somme, and Saint Loup had elected to
make him its hero, although why, not a soul in the
town could have told — there had never been any-
thing heroic about him. However, he served as a
most handy scourge wherewith to lacerate Kahn's
shrinking shoulders; there was neither rhyme nor
reason in the thing, but then war itself is a monstrous
unreason. So now there were many who muttered
dark threats whenever they passed the unfortunate
tradesman, who shook their clenched fists as they
walked by his shop — presumably for the glory of
Guillaume; who chalked up: cHerr Kahn' on the
shop door at night, yes, and other extremely un-
pleasant things, to the great indignation and fear of
its owner.
Only the Benedits and old Eusebe seemed unmoved
by this explosion of public feeling. Eusebe shrugged,
spitting contemptuously: 'The beast has not changed
his species,5 he remarked; ca pig will always remain
a pig.3 After which he went off to buy flannel in the
town — red flannel, that infallible cure for lumbago.
Madame Roustan visited Marie in vain, nor could
she get much satisfaction from Jouse. Marie said:
cBut we do not think him a spy, and as for his business
having come to ruin — eh bien, that cannot make
Jouse walk; there is nothing healing about Kahn's
misfortune.'
And her husband nodded: cYou are right, Marioun,
I cannot run off to join in the rejoicings; moreover
two failures do not make one success.3 Then he
yawned very loudly and closed his eyes as a hint to
his sister that he would be sleeping.
But if J6us& had ever desired revenge, then very
assuredly he now had it, for at night Kahn would lie
wide awake in his bed listening to sounds, always
listening to sounds, most of which were produced by
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