The Fall

by Albert Camus

And indeed, being polite was a great joy to me. If the opportunity arose some mornings for me to give up my seat on the bus or the métro to someone who obviously deserved it, or to pick up something that an old lady had dropped and to return it to her with a smile that I knew only too well, or merely to give up my taxi to a person who was in more of a hurry than I was, then my whole day would be lit up by it. I have to confess that I even welcomed those days when there was a public transport strike, providing me with the opportunity to stop my car and pick up some of my unfortunate fellow citizens, stranded at the bus stops on their way home. In short, giving up my seat in the theatre so that a couple could be reunited or, on a journey, lifting a young woman’s bag into the rack that was too high for her were deeds that I performed more often than other people, because I more often kept an eye open for the opportunity to do so and gained greater pleasure from it.