He sipped the
beverage slowly, in order to make it last the longer, but this did
not prevent his glass from becoming dry long before M. Wilkie and
his friends were ready to leave. "It seems to me we are going to
stay here all night," he thought, angrily.
His ill-humor was not strange under the circumstances, for it was
one o'clock in the morning; and after carrying all the tables and
chairs round about, inside, a waiter came to ask Chupin to go
away. All the other cafes were closing too, and the fastening of
bolts or the clanking of shutter chains could be heard on every
side. On the pavement stood groups of waiters in their shirt-
sleeves, stretching and yawning, and inhaling the fresh night air
with delight. The boulevard was fast becoming deserted--the men
were going off in little groups, and female forms could be seen
gliding along in the dark shadow cast by the houses. The police
were watching everywhere, with a word of menace ever ready on
their lips; and soon the only means of egress from the cafes were
the narrow, low doorways cut in the shutters through which the
last customers--the insatiable, who are always ordering one
thimbleful more to finish--passed out.
It was through a portal of this sort that M. Wilkie and his
companions at last emerged, and on perceiving them, Chupin gave a
grunt of satisfaction. "At last," he thought, "I can follow the
man to his door, take his number, and go home.
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