He did not know Potocki's address, and where was he to find an address
book on a day when all the shops were closed?
Without knowing where he was going, he went down the street, past the
harbour, across the bridge. He did not meet a single man he knew. The
presence of the crowd which occupied the town during the absence of
their betters annoyed him, for, like the rest of us, the education
which he had received at school had made an aristocrat of him.
In his first anger he had forgotten his hunger, but now it re-asserted
itself. A new, terrible thought occurred to him, a thought which up to
now he had put away from him out of sheer cowardice: Where was he to
dine? He had started out with plenty of vouchers in his pocket, but
only one crown and fifty ore in coin. The vouchers were only used at
Rejner's, for convenience sake, and he had spent a crown on his
cabfare.
He found himself again in Berzelius Park. Everywhere he met labourers
and their families, eating what they had brought with them in baskets;
hard-boiled eggs, crabs, pancakes. And the police did not interfere.
On the contrary, he saw a policeman with a sandwich in one hand and a
glass of beer in the other. But what irritated him more than anything
else was the fact that these people whom he despised had the advantage
of him.
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