This gayety was troubled by one bitter reflection.

“Yes,” said he, “I’m splitting with laughter, I’m twisting with delight, I abound in joy, but I’m losing my way, I shall have to take a roundabout way. If I only reach the barricade in season!”

Thereupon he set out again on a run.

And as he ran:⁠—

“Ah, by the way, where was I?” said he.

And he resumed his ditty, as he plunged rapidly through the streets, and this is what died away in the gloom:⁠—