CROSSING PARIS
569
dusted it with the back of
his
hand and reshaped it, he placed it on
his
companion's head. Martin stood without moving, arms hanging
at his side and eyes fixed on the ground.
"Forward march," said the ram. "The hardest part is ahead
of us. Past the boulevards, we have a bad hill to climb. You're going
to have to use your head for both of us."
Martin had picked up his valises once more. The sky was a
frozen blue, brilliant with moon and stars. As they drew near to
the Saint Martin gate, an occasional pedestrian could be seen in the
narrow lanes of moonlight, and the clacking noise of their wooden–
soled shoes could be heard long after they had passed. As they were
about to cross the line of the boulevards, the two men had to stop
while a squadron of German soldiers on bicycles went by. Rifles slung
across their shoulders, the helmeted bicyclists rolled silently in the
direction of the Opera House. The valise carriers were entering a
danger zone. Above
all
things they had to avoid the neighborhood
of certain buildings which had been requisitioned by the services of
the German army, and the approaches to which were guarded by
police. They followed a course in a broken line which was to lead
them, by crossing the quarter of the St. Denis gate and the Roche–
chouart quarter, into the neighborhood of the Medrano Circle.
Twenty minutes before midnight, they arrived in Montholon Square,
and began the laborious ascent of the hill of Montmartre. In the
distance, toward the west, the cannon of the Anti-Aircraft Defense
began to sound. Since they had passed the boulevards, they had been
compelled several times to draw back into the shadowed recesses
to escape the policemen or the rounds of the bicycle patrols. Twice
they had even found themselves in grave danger. Martin, demoralized,
had shown himself unequal to the circumstances. Grandgil had com–
pensated for Martin's failure with great coolness and authority. He
now appeared to be the real leader of the enterprise, and he assumed
the direction of it as
if
unconsciously. Martin did not contest any of
his decisions, but in his execution of them could be seen sometimes
a touch of sly malice, which suggested that he now wished the expedi–
tion to fail, since it was no longer
his
own.
The climb was stiff after the efforts they had made already. The
ram adapted his pace to that of Martin, whose heavy tread betrayed
his
fatigue. The cannon were booming again in the distance at several
