'Did you notice how quickly he was walking?'
'Yes, indeed, when he wanted to stride across the gutter he almost jumped.'
'It is said that they are all like that.'
'I felt quite frightened. Why is he allowed to come out? It oughtn't to be permitted.'
Mouret was beginning to feel timid, and dared not venture to look round again. He experienced a vague uneasiness, though he could not feel quite sure that it was about himself that the people were all talking. He quickened his steps and began to swing his arms about. He regretted that he had put on his old overcoat, a hazel-coloured one and no longer of a fashionable cut. When he reached the market-place, he hesitated for a moment, and then boldly strode into the midst of the greengrocers' stalls. The mere sight of him caused quite a commotion there.
All the housewives of Plassans formed in a line about his path, the market-women stood up by their stalls, with their hands on their hips, and stared hard at him. People even pushed one another to get a sight of him, and some of the women mounted on to the benches in the corn-market. Mouret still further quickened his steps and tried to disengage himself from the crowd, not as yet able to believe that it was he who was causing all this excitement.
'Well, anyone would think that his arms were windmill sails,' said a peasant-woman who was selling fruit.
'He flies on like a shot; he nearly upset my stall,' exclaimed another woman, a greengrocer.
'Stop him! stop him!' the millers cried facetiously. Then Mouret, overcome by curiosity, halted and rose on tip-toes to see what was the matter. He imagined that someone had just been detected thieving. But a loud burst of laughter broke out from the crowd, and there were shouts and hisses, all sorts of calls and cries.