streets of
the
village or
along the
banks of
the river.
So they
loved him
but
little;
and it was
with a
certain
delight,
mingled
with
astonishment
that they
gathered
in groups
this
morning,
repeating
to each
other this
sentence,
concocted
by a lad
of
fourteen
or fifteen
who
appeared
to know
all about
it, so
sagaciously
did he
wink: “You
know Simon
– well, he
has no
papa.” La
Blanchotte’s
son
appeared
in his
turn upon
the
threshold
