CROSSING PARIS
563
to put out his cigarette, which might draw upon them the attention
of the police.
"I say, your gold teeth, how long has it been since you had your
gold teeth put in?"
"Two years, I think."
"Since the occupation, then? Say, you probably remember how
much that cost you?"
Grandgil did not reply. He was in a bad humor. In this network
of streets in the Archives quarter through which his guide was leading
him, he could not get his bearings, and he was feeling lost. Martin
tasted the satisfaction of having him to some extent at his mercy,
and felt sure that he had nothing to fear from his capricious humor.
For his own part, Martin found his way through this labyrinth of
the Marais as easily as
if
it were broad daylight. Having lived for
more than five years in Saintonge Street, the smallest streets of the
quarter were familiar to him. He would have liked to entertain his
companion with the advantages of the location, and its convenience,
to point out in passing such and such a cafe which he had frequented
for a long time, but he w,as aware that the scene of his daily life
would not prove of interest to Gr.andgil. Grandgil's gold teeth, his
fine linen which Martin had glimpsed in the cafe, and the words
which he had just used to the barkeepers, set him apart in a class
of human beings whose character Martin sensed without being able
to define it precisely. His pretended trade of a house painter was
nothing more than an alibi. This lad surely did not work at any
regular trade, and still he was not a pimp nor a professional black–
mailer. His success in the cellar was only an accident. On the other
hand, a man living by his luck, and probably living none too well,
doesn't have a mouth lined with gold nor wear fine linen.
The two men were now walking without speaking. Martin was
suffering from lonesomeness, and somewhat regretted his anger and
hatred. The memory of Mariette, which the vicinity of her house
brought to his mind, was the last straw. In his thoughts, he started
again on the story which he had told Grandgil, when the latter had
come to Saintonge Street to meet him, and to go with him to
J
am–
blier's place. "I'm fond of you," she said to me, "I recognize what
you are, but my life is to be independent, to go when and where I
please, and no man to call me to account."
