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120 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1939
‘Certainly, I would rather two hundred francs than twenty, but I am a man of honour. You may not have realised as much. I am unable to accept the sum you offer me for the following reasons: firstly, because I don’t have the pleasure of knowing you; secondly, because I don’t know how and when I would be able to repay you; and thirdly, because there would be no possibility of your asking me to repay you. I have no address. Almost every day finds me under a different bridge. And yet, in spite of that, as I have assured you, I am a man of honour, albeit of no fixed address.’
He sat. And since his chair was facing a mirror, he could hardly avoid looking at his reflection in it, and it was as though he were making his own acquaintance again after a long absence. He was shocked. Immediately he realised why for the last few years he had been so distrustful of mirrors. It was not good to see evidence of his own dissipation with his own eyes.
He wanted to wait here until he heard the bells, the church bells ringing people to Mass, before crossing the square and settling his debt to the little saint. But until then he wanted to drink, and he ordered something to drink. He drank. The bells began to ring, summoning people to Mass…

