neither down-hearted nor humble. The truth was
that he felt so immense a relief at finding himself
in comparative safety, that he cared not a pin for
their childish jeers which could neither roast him alive
nor shoot him. Every morning he arrived at the
Benedit's house in time for coffee and a slice of dry
bread; every night he returned to the Galeries Kahn
which, except for his bedroom, were deserted and
empty. Thanks to Edouard, he was allowed to stay
on until such time as the place was disposed of. Yes,
but now when he went to his bed he slept, and that
sleep seemed to him like a boon from heaven as it
came flooding peacefully over his mind, great waves
of it, waves upon waves of sleep, until consciousness
lay submerged by oblivion. On awaking his mind
would feel placid yet vital, no longer submitting to
thoughts of failure, so that while he shaved he would
think of new schemes whereby he could help himself
and Jouse:
€Is it likely that I cannot win through!' he would
exclaim to the soap-daubed face that looked out of
the mirror.
His first scheme was to bait harmless traps for the
wounded who would frequently stand staring into the
workshop. He and Christophe made cigarette boxes
of oak on which Anfos was set to carve popular
generals from their pictures that Kahn cut out of
the papers. The generals were crude but then so
were the times; the boxes were simple but then so
were the wounded. Cigarette cases followed with
great success; upon these there appeared the flags of
the Allies which le tout petit Loup embellished with
paint. Since his earliest childhood he had been neat-
fingered and now he spent hours with a box of oil-
paints which Kahn had ordered for him from Mar-
seille. Every evening he coloured the Allied flags;
his brows knit, the tip of his tongue protruding: