What to do? Which way to go?
Under the flame of a gas-jet struggling against the onslaughts of the wind, Fandor caught sight of the honest face of a constable enveloped in a thick hooded coat. He eyed Fandor.
"Excuse me," said Corporal Vinson-Fandor, rolling his r's, in imitation of a rustic fresh from the country, "but could you tell me where I shall find the 257th of the line?"
"What do you want with the 257th of the line?" queried the constable.
"It is like this, Monsieur: I was in the 214th, garrisoned at Châlons. I have had eight days' leave, and they inform me I am attached to the 257th."
The constable nodded.
"And now you want to get to your new regiment?"
"Precisely."
"Well, the 257th is in three places: at bastion 14; at the Saint Benoit barracks; and at Fort Vieux—which are you bound for, Corporal?"
"I don't know—I've no preference," murmured Corporal Vinson-Fandor.