—Is it not large enough now to grow alone?
—But I am attached to it.
—Become unattached, replied Angèle.
And a little while after, having realized strongly that after all, occupations, responsibilities, and other scruples could hold him no more than the oak, Tityrus smiled and went off, taking with him the cash-box and Angèle, and towards the end of the day walked with her down the boulevard which leads from the Madeleine to the Opéra.
III
That evening the boulevard had a strange look. One felt that something unusually grave was going to happen. An enormous crowd, serious and anxious, overflowed the pavement, spreading on to the road, which the Paris police, placed at intervals, with great trouble kept free. Before the restaurants, the terraces disproportionately enlarged by the placing of chairs and tables, made the obstruction more complete and rendered circulation impossible. Now and again an onlooker impatiently stood upon his chair for an instant—the time that one could beg him to get down. Evidently all were waiting; one felt without doubt that between the two pavements upon the protected route something was going to pass. Having found a table with great difficulty and paid a large price for it, Angèle and Tityrus installed themselves in front of two glasses of beer and asked the waiter:
—What are they all waiting for?
—Where does your lordship come from? said the waiter. Does not your lordship know that every one is waiting to see Melibœus? He will pass by between 5 and 6 ... and there—listen: I believe one can already hear his flute.
From the depths of the boulevard the frail notes of a pipe were heard. The crowd thrilled with still greater attention. The sound increased, came nearer, grew louder and louder.