Muffat had returned into the wide streets, which were then in course of construction on either side of the new opera house.

Soaked by the rain and cut up by cart wheels, the chalky soil had become a lake of liquid mire.

But he never looked to see where he was stepping and walked on and on, slipping and regaining his footing as he went.

The awakening of Paris, with its gangs of sweepers and early workmen trooping to their destinations, added to his troubles as day brightened.

People stared at him in surprise as he went by with scared look and soaked hat and muddy clothes.