Coldevin breathed deeply and stood
still. The odour of coal and tar, of wine and fruit, of fish and oils; the
roar from engines and traffic, the shouts, the footfalls on the decks, the
song from a young sailor who was shining shoes in his shirtsleeves--it all
stirred him with a violent joy which almost made his eyes moisten. What a
power was here! What ships! The harbour gleamed; far away he saw Miss
Aagot's little yacht with the shining masthead.
He lost himself in this spectacle. Time passed; suddenly he dived into a
basement restaurant that had opened up and asked for a sandwich for
breakfast. When he emerged a little later there were many people in the
streets; it was getting along toward the time for the boys' parade to
start. He had to hurry; it would never do to miss the processions.
* * * * *
Along toward three o'clock a few members of the clique had occupied a
vantage-point at the corner, in order to see the big procession pass by
toward the Royal Castle. None of them marched in the parade. Suddenly one
of them called out:
"Look, there is Coldevin!"
They saw him march now under one, now under another banner; it was as if
he wanted to belong to them all; he was almost too enthusiastic to keep in
step.
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