"Come, I'm mighty glad that that chap doesn't know me."
He steers his course along the boulevards. There are many things to be seen on the boulevards on a day in March. The florists have the first hyacinths exposed upon their stalls, and they exhale an odor of spring. The women, at the first warm rays of sunshine, emerge from their furs, as the early flowers emerge from their green calices.
He stops before a juggler; the juggler is just commencing a trick that is more wonderful than all other tricks, but he does not finish it: he has some others that he wants to show first; then he is presenting, gratis, cakes of Spanish white to clean brass-work with to those who purchase a box of his charcoal paste for the teeth for twenty sous.
"This odontalgic and balsamic specific is a sovereign cure for decayed teeth. I propose to make a test of it in your presence, ladies and gentlemen. The first person that presents himself—come here, little boy. See, the teeth of this child are perfectly black; you put a little of the powder upon a brush; you moisten it with water; and don't think that this is prepared water; just plain water, the first that comes along, the water of the gutter; you rub the teeth and the gums with it."
Still there is no sign of the trick that has been announced in such glowing terms; Arthur, who has been waiting half an hour, loses patience and starts to go, but the juggler runs after him and calls to him:
"Monsieur! Monsieur!"
Every eye is directed upon Arthur. He becomes red in the face and stops.
