Induction 

humming. Monsieur Leras stood there bewildered. Other women were passing near enveloped in darkness by something disagreeable. He sat down.html">down again on a bench. The carriages were still rolling by. He He began to think of all this venal or passionate love.html">love, of all these scarcely knew it. In his lifetime he had only known two or three women, life.html">life.html">life.html">life which he had led, so different from everybody else, so dreary, so been torn from his eyes, he perceived the infinite misery, the monotony similar to his first one, with nothing before him, behind him or about open carriage he still saw the two silent, loving creatures. It seemed with joy, pleasure and happiness. He alone was looking on. To-morrow he up, took a few steps, and suddenly he felt as tired as though he had thinking.html">thinking of how pleasant it must be in old age to return home and find by those beings who owe their life to you, who love you, who caress you, console you for everything. And, thinking of his empty room, clean and sad, where no one but himself to him more mournful even than his little office. Nobody ever came a human voice. It seems as though walls retain something of the people very houses inhabited by happy families are gayer than the dwellings of thought of returning to this place, all alone, of getting into his bed, thought terrified him. As though to escape farther from this sinister walked along a path to a wooded corner, where he sat down on the grass. About him, above him, everywhere, he heard a continuous, tremendous, throbbing pulsation of life: the life breath of Paris, breathing like a .

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