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When
he
reached
the
staircase
,
he
felt
like
running
down
,
his
joy
was
so
great
;
he
went
down
two
steps
at
a
time
,
but
suddenly
on
the
second
floor
,
in
the
large
mirror
,
he
saw
a
gentleman
hurrying
on
,
and
he
slackened
his
pace
,
as
much
ashamed
as
if
he
had
been
surprised
in
a
crime
.
He
surveyed
himself
some
time
with
a
complacent
smile
;
then
taking
leave
of
his
image
,
he
bowed
low
,
ceremoniously
,
as
if
saluting
some
grand
personage
.
When
Georges
Duroy
reached
the
street
,
he
hesitated
as
to
what
he
should
do
.
He
felt
inclined
to
stroll
along
,
dreaming
of
the
future
and
inhaling
the
soft
night
air
;
but
the
thought
of
the
series
of
articles
ordered
by
M.
Walter
occurred
to
him
,
and
he
decided
to
return
home
at
once
and
begin
work
.
He
walked
rapidly
along
until
he
came
to
Rue
Boursault
.
The
tenement
in
which
he
lived
was
occupied
by
twenty
families
--
families
of
workingmen
--
and
as
he
mounted
the
staircase
he
experienced
a
sensation
of
disgust
and
a
desire
to
live
as
wealthy
men
do
.
Duroy
's
room
was
on
the
fifth
floor
.
He
entered
it
,
opened
his
window
,
and
looked
out
:
the
view
was
anything
but
prepossessing
.
He
turned
away
,
thinking
:
"
This
wo
n't
do
.
I
must
go
to
work
.
"
So
he
placed
his
light
upon
the
table
and
began
to
write
.
He
dipped
his
pen
into
the
ink
and
wrote
at
the
head
of
his
paper
in
a
bold
hand
:
"
Souvenirs
of
a
Soldier
in
Africa
.
"
Then
he
cast
about
for
the
first
phrase
.
He
rested
his
head
upon
his
hand
and
stared
at
the
blank
sheet
before
him
.
What
should
he
say
?
Suddenly
he
thought
:
"
I
must
begin
with
my
departure
,
"
and
he
wrote
:
"
In
1874
,
about
the
fifteenth
of
May
,
when
exhausted
France
was
recruiting
after
the
catastrophe
of
the
terrible
years
--
"
Here
he
stopped
short
,
not
knowing
how
to
introduce
his
subject
.
After
a
few
minutes
'
reflection
,
he
decided
to
lay
aside
that
page
until
the
following
day
,
and
to
write
a
description
of
Algiers
.
He
began
:
"
Algiers
is
a
very
clean
city
--
"
but
he
could
not
continue
.
After
an
effort
he
added
:
"
It
is
inhabited
partly
by
Arabs
.
"
Then
he
threw
his
pen
upon
the
table
and
arose
.
He
glanced
around
his
miserable
room
;
mentally
he
rebelled
against
his
poverty
and
resolved
to
leave
the
next
day
.
Suddenly
the
desire
to
work
came
on
him
,
and
he
tried
to
begin
the
article
again
;
he
had
vague
ideas
of
what
he
wanted
to
say
,
but
he
could
not
express
his
thoughts
in
words
.
Convinced
of
his
inability
he
arose
once
more
,
his
blood
coursing
rapidly
through
his
veins
.
He
turned
to
the
window
just
as
the
train
was
coming
out
of
the
tunnel
,
and
his
thoughts
reverted
to
his
parents
.
He
saw
their
tiny
home
on
the
heights
overlooking
Rouen
and
the
valley
of
the
Seine
.
His
father
and
mother
kept
an
inn
,
La
Belle-Vue
,
at
which
the
citizens
of
the
faubourgs
took
their
lunches
on
Sundays
.
They
had
wished
to
make
a
"
gentleman
"
of
their
son
and
had
sent
him
to
college
.
His
studies
completed
,
he
had
entered
the
army
with
the
intention
of
becoming
an
officer
,
a
colonel
,
or
a
general
.
But
becoming
disgusted
with
military
life
,
he
determined
to
try
his
fortune
in
Paris
.
When
his
time
of
service
had
expired
,
he
went
thither
,
with
what
results
we
have
seen
.
He
awoke
from
his
reflections
as
the
locomotive
whistled
shrilly
,
closed
his
window
,
and
began
to
disrobe
,
muttering
:
"
Bah
,
I
shall
be
able
to
work
better
to-morrow
morning
.
My
brain
is
not
clear
to-night
.
I
have
drunk
a
little
too
much
.
I
ca
n't
work
well
under
such
circumstances
.
"
He
extinguished
his
light
and
fell
asleep
.
He
awoke
early
,
and
,
rising
,
opened
his
window
to
inhale
the
fresh
air
.
In
a
few
moments
he
seated
himself
at
his
table
,
dipped
his
pen
in
the
ink
,
rested
his
head
upon
his
hand
and
thought
--
but
in
vain
!
However
,
he
was
not
discouraged
,
but
in
thought
reassured
himself
:
"
Bah
,
I
am
not
accustomed
to
it
!
It
is
a
profession
that
must
be
learned
like
all
professions
.
Some
one
must
help
me
the
first
time
.
I
'll
go
to
Forestier
.
He
'll
start
my
article
for
me
in
ten
minutes
.
"
When
he
reached
the
street
,
Duroy
decided
that
it
was
rather
early
to
present
himself
at
his
friend
's
house
,
so
he
strolled
along
under
the
trees
on
one
of
the
boulevards
for
a
time
.
On
arriving
at
Forestier
's
door
,
he
found
his
friend
going
out
.
"
You
here
--
at
this
hour
!
Can
I
do
anything
for
you
?
"
Duroy
stammered
in
confusion
:
"
I
--
I
--
can
not
write
that
article
on
Algeria
that
M.
Walter
wants
.
It
is
not
very
surprising
,
seeing
that
I
have
never
written
anything
.
It
requires
practice
.
I
could
write
very
rapidly
,
I
am
sure
,
if
I
could
make
a
beginning
.
I
have
the
ideas
but
I
can
not
express
them
.
"
He
paused
and
hesitated
.
