“Hardly incidents, I think.  A lot of vivid sensations crowded themselves upon my mind and I could trace them to no causes.  It was just after sunset and the tumbled old buildings traced magical outlines against an opalescent sky of gold and red.  The dusk was running down the twisted streets.  All round the hill the plain pressed in like a dim sea, its level rising with the darkness.  The spell of this kind of scene, you know, can be very moving, and it was so that night.  Yet I felt that what came to me had nothing directly to do with the mystery and wonder of the scene.”

“Not merely the subtle transformations of the spirit that come with beauty,” put in the doctor, noticing his hesitation.

“Exactly,” Vezin went on, duly encouraged and no longer so fearful of our smiles at his expense.  “The impressions came from somewhere else.  For instance, down the busy main street where men and women were bustling home from work, shopping at stalls and barrows, idly gossiping in groups, and all the rest of it, I saw that I aroused no interest and that no one turned to stare at me as a foreigner and stranger.  I was utterly ignored, and my presence among them excited no special interest or attention.

“And then, quite suddenly, it dawned upon me with conviction that all the time this indifference and inattention were merely feigned.  Everybody as a matter of fact was watching me closely.  Every movement I made was known and observed.  Ignoring me was all a pretence—­an elaborate pretence.”

He paused a moment and looked at us to see if we were smiling, and then continued, reassured—­

“It is useless to ask me how I noticed this, because I simply cannot explain it.  But the discovery gave me something of a shock.  Before I got back to the inn, however, another curious thing rose up strongly in my mind and forced my recognition of it as true.  And this, too, I may as well say at once, was equally inexplicable to me.  I mean I can only give you the fact, as fact it was to me.”

The little man left his chair and stood on the mat before the fire.  His diffidence lessened from now onwards, as he lost himself again in the magic of the old adventure.  His eyes shone a little already as he talked.

“Well,” he went on, his soft voice rising somewhat with his excitement, “I was in a shop when it came to me first—­though the idea must have been at work for a long time subconsciously to appear in so complete a form all at once.  I was buying socks, I think,” he laughed, “and struggling with my dreadful French, when it struck me that the woman in the shop did not care two pins whether I bought anything or not.  She was indifferent whether she made a sale or did not make a sale.  She was only pretending to sell.

“This sounds a very small and fanciful incident to build upon what follows.  But really it was not small.  I mean it was the spark that lit the line of powder and ran along to the big blaze in my mind.