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only thing he knew how to do was to hold out his hand for alms。
At one time the Baroness d'Avary allowed him to sleep in a kind of recess
spread with straw； close to the poultry yard in the farm adjoining the
chateau； and if he was in great need he was sure of getting a glass of
cider and a crust of bread in the kitchen。 Moreover； the old lady often
threw him a few pennies from her window。 But she was dead now。
In the villages people gave him scarcely anythinghe was too well known。
Everybody had grown tired of seeing him； day after day for forty years；
dragging his deformed and tattered person from door to door on his wooden
crutches。 But he could not make up his mind to go elsewhere； because he
knew no place on earth but this particular corner of the country； these
three or four villages where he had spent the whole of his miserable
existence。 He had limited his begging operations and would not for
worlds have passed his accustomed bounds。
He did not even know whether the world extended for any distance beyond
the trees which had always bounded his vision。 He did not ask himself
the question。 And when the peasants； tired of constantly meeting him in
their fields or along their lanes； exclaimed： 〃Why don't you go to other
villages instead of always limping about here？〃 he did not answer； but
slunk away； possessed with a vague dread of the unknownthe dread of a
poor wretch who fears confusedly a thousand thingsnew faces； taunts；
insults； the suspicious glances of people who do not know him and the
policemen walking in couples on the roads。 These last he always
instinctively avoided； taking refuge in the bushes or behind heaps of
stones when he saw them coming。
When he perceived them in the distance； 'With uniforms gleaming in the
sun； he was suddenly possessed with unwonted agilitythe agility of a
wild animal seeking its lair。 He threw aside his crutches； fell to the
ground like a limp rag； made himself as small as possible and crouched
like a bare under cover； his tattered vestments blending in hue with the
earth on which he cowered。
He had never had any trouble with the police； but the instinct to avoid
them was in his blood。 He seemed to have inherited it from the parents
he had never known。
He had no refuge； no roof for his head； no shelter of any kind。 In
summer he slept out of doors and in winter he showed remarkable skill in
slipping unperceived into barns and stables。 He always decamped before
his presence could be discovered。 He knew all the holes through which
one could creep into farm buildings； and the handling of his crutches
having made his arms surprisingly muscular he often hauled himself up
through sheer strength of wrist into hay…lofts； where he sometimes
remained for four or five days at a time； provided he had collected a
sufficient store of food beforehand。
He lived like the beasts of the field。 He was in the midst of men； yet
knew no one； loved no one； exciting in the breasts of the peasants only a
sort of careless contempt and smoldering hostility。 They nicknamed him
〃Bell；〃 because he hung between his two crutches like a church bell
between its supports。
For two days he had eaten nothing。 No one gave him anything now。 Every
one's patience was exhausted。 Women shouted to him from their doorsteps
when they saw him coming：
〃Be off with you； you good…for…nothing vagabond！ Why； I gave you a piece
of bread only three days ago！
And he turned on his crutches to the next house； where he was received in
the same fashion。
The women declared to one another as they stood at their doors：
〃We can't feed that lazy brute all the year round！〃
And yet the 〃lazy brute〃 needed food every day。
He had exhausted Saint…Hilaire； Varville and Les Billettes without
getting a single copper or so much as a dry crust。 His only hope was in
Tournolles； but to reach this place he would have to walk five miles
along the highroad； and he felt so weary that he could hardly drag
himself another yard。 His stomach and his pocket were equally empty； but
he started on his way。
It was December and a cold wind blew over the fields and whistled through
the bare branches of the trees； the clouds careered madly across the
black； threatening sky。 The cripple dragged himself slowly along；
raising one crutch after the other with a painful effort； propping
himself on the one distorted leg which remained to him。
Now and then he sat down beside a ditch for a few moments' rest。 Hunger
was gnawing his vitals； and in his confused； slow…working mind he had
only one idea…to eat…but how this was to be accomplished he did not know。
For three hours he continued his painful journey。 Then at last the sight
of the trees of the village inspired him with new energy。
The first peasant he met； and of whom he asked alms； replied：
〃So it's you again； is it； you old scamp？ Shall I never be rid of you？〃
And 〃Bell〃 went on his way。 At every door he got nothing but hard words。
He made the round of the whole village； but received not a halfpenny for
his pains。
Then he visited the neighboring farms； toiling through the muddy land； so
exhausted that he could hardly raise his crutches from the ground。 He
met with the same reception everywhere。 It was one of those cold； bleak
days； when the heart is frozen and the temper irritable； and hands do not
open either to give money or food。
When he had visited all the houses he knew； 〃Bell〃 sank down in the
corner of a ditch running across Chiquet's farmyard。 Letting his
crutches slip to the ground； he remained motionless； tortured by hunger；
but hardly intelligent enough to realize to the full his unutterable
misery。
He awaited he knew not what； possessed with that vague hope which
persists in the human heart in spite of everything。 He awaited in the
corner of the farmyard in the biting December wind； some mysterious aid
from Heaven or from men； without the least idea whence it was to arrive。
A number of black hens ran hither and thither； seeking their food in the
earth which supports all living things。 Ever now and then they snapped
up in their beaks a grain of corn or a tiny insect； then they continued
their slow； sure search for nutriment。
〃Bell〃 watched them at first without thinking of anything。 Then a
thought occurred rather to his stomach than to his mindthe thought that
one of those fowls would be good to eat if it were cooked over a fire of
dead wood。
He did not reflect that he was going to commit a theft。 He took up a
stone which lay within reach； and； being of skillful aim； killed at the
first shot the fowl nearest to him。 The bird fell on its side； flapping
its wings。 The others fled wildly hither and thither； and 〃Bell；〃
picking up his crutches； limped across to where his victim lay。
Just as he reached the little black body with its crimsoned head he
received a violent blow in his back which made him let go his hold of his
crutches and sent him flying ten paces distant。 And Farmer Chiquet；
beside himself with rage； cuffed and kicked the marauder with all the
fury of a plundered peasant as 〃Bell〃 lay defenceless before him。
The farm han