a man I knew, Perruche, the barber. He was carrying a paper lantern in his hand, and as I came near, he held it up to my face, and as soon as he saw who it was he called out, "Hullo, Colas! Glad to see you back! Come and have a drink."
"Tomorrow if you like," said I." There is a time for everything."
"You must be breaking up, Breugnon. Thirst is always in season, and if we wait till tomorrow all the good wine may be gone. Is it possible that you have actually lost your taste for a good September vintage?"
"Stolen drink has no flavor."
"Stolen? You mean saved out of a burning house. I should be a pretty fool to let it all run away into the gutter."
"Thief!" said I, and pushed him out of my way, and as each man behind came up, he too said, "Thief," and frowned at the barber, who stood completely dumfounded for a moment. Then we heard him shouting, and as I looked over my shoulder I saw that he was running after us, shaking his fist. But as nobody took any more notice of him, he fell silent when he had caught up to us, and marched on behind.
The crowd was so dense when we came to the waterside, just by the first Yonne bridge, that I
