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Updated: May 18, 2025
Through the semi-darkness, a luminous movement peoples the hairdresser's shop, and takes shape on the dull screen of his window. His transparent door, with its arched inscription, opens just as I pass, and under the soap-dish, whose jingle summons customers, Monsieur Justin Pocard himself appears, along with a rich gust of scented light.
And I, I am thinking that if I were older or more influential in the district, perhaps I should be in the Pocard scheme, which is taking shape, and will be huge. Meanwhile, Brisbille is scowling. An unconfessable disquiet is accumulating in his bosom. All this gathering is detaining him at home, and he is tormented by the desire for drink.
In the oven of the street one can see only his littleness he must be a considerable personage, all the same. Monsieur Pocard is always applying himself to business and thinking of great schemes.
Monsieur Lucien Gozlan comes forward, calls me "my dear sir," and brings me the condolences of his uncles, while the rest watch us. Joseph Bonéas says "my dear friend" to me, and that affects me deeply. Monsieur Pocard says, "If I had been advised in time I would have said a few words. It is regrettable "
I make notes, by the way, of Crillon's honest trivialities; of Brisbille's untimely outbursts; of the rumors anent the Pocard scheme, and the progress of the Association of Avengers, a society to promote national awakening, founded by Monsieur Joseph Bonéas. The same complex and monotonous existence bears me along as it does everybody.
It is ten years now since I was married, and in that lapse of time there is hardly a happening that I remember, unless it be the disillusion of the death of Marie's rich godmother, who left us nothing. There was the failure of the Pocard scheme, which was only a swindle and ruined many small people.
That felt, I tells you, was only like a dirty handkerchief. What does that represent in ebullition of steam, in gumming, and the passage of time?" Monsieur Justin Pocard is talking to three companions, who, hat in hand, are listening with all their ears. He is entertaining them in his sonorous language about the great financial and industrial combination which he has planned.
"I would like," she said, "to go up in an aeroplane, into the wind into the sky!" One spring we talked a lot about a trip we would take some day. Some railway posters had been stuck on the walls of the old tin works, that the Pocard scheme was going to transfigure. We looked at them the day they were freshly brilliant in their wet varnish and their smell of paste.
A speculative thrill electrifies the company. "That'll brush business up!" says Crillon, in wonder, torn for a moment from contemplation of the hat, but promptly relapsing on it. Joseph Bonéas says to me, in an undertone, and I am flattered, "That Pocard is a man of no education, but he has practical sense. That's a big idea he's got, at least if he sees things as I see them."
We hear gusts of talk about the Pocard scheme. Ah, how fiercely people live and seek success! Little Antoinette, cautiously feeling her way by a big wall, hears us pass. She stops and would look if she could. We espy her figure in that twilight of which she is beginning to make a part, though fine and faint as a pistil. "Poor little angel!" says a woman, as she goes by.
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