"Don't block the way, Johnny Crapaud!" called a girl with a shawl over her head; and with the combined shove and push of those behind, the sabot-shod young man was shouldered into the street.
There he stood dazed and bereft, with the sailor's bag on his back.
"Where do you wish to go?" asked a gendarme, not unkindly.
"Back to Gruchy," came the answer.
And the young man went into the diligence office and asked when the next stage started.
It did not go until the following morning. He would have to stay somewhere all night.
The policeman outside the door directed him to a modest tavern.
Next morning things looked a little better. The sun had come out and the air was crisp. The crowds in the street did not look quite so cold and mean.
After hunger had been satisfied, "Johnny Crapaud" concluded to stay long enough to catch a glimpse of the Louvre, that marvel of marvels! The Louvre had been glowingly described to him by his old drawing-master at Cherbourg. Visions of the Louvre had been in his mind for weeks and months, and now his hopes were soon to be realized. In an hour perhaps he would stand and look upon a canvas painted by Rubens, the immortal Rubens!
His enthusiasm grew warm.