old vagabond calculated shrewdly, but the young man still in him upset all... Now, where to go?" he murmured.
It was already late and the cold had increased. It was going to be a hard night. For a long time Vitalis sat on the stone. Capi and I stood silently before, waiting until he had come to some decision. Finally he rose.
"Where are we going?"
"To Gentilly, to try and find a race-course where I've slept sometimes. Are you tired?"
"I rested at Garofoli's."
"The pity is that I haven't rested, and I can't do much more. But we must get along. Forward! March! Children!"
This was his good humor signal for the dogs and myself when we were about to start, but this night he said it sadly.
Here we were, wandering in the streets of Paris; the night was dark and the gas jets, which flickered in the wind, lit the alleys but dimly. At each step we slipped on the ice-covered pavement. Vitalis held me by the hand, and Capi followed at our heels. From time to time, the poor dog stopped behind to look amongst a heap of garbage to see if he could find a bone or a crust, for he was oh, so hungry, but the garbage was covered with frozen snow and he searched in vain. With drooping ears he trotted on to catch up with us.
After the big streets, more alleys; after the alleys, more big streets; we walked on, and on; the
