‘Sevenpence halfpenny, mum, and the best in the market!’

‘Sevenpence halfpenny for three wretched leeks?’

And disdainfully she cast the leeks back into the barrow.

Then it was the Constable 64 came and said to Crainquebille: ‘Move on.’

Moving on was what Crainquebille had been doing from morning till evening for fifty years. Such an order seemed right to him, and perfectly in accordance with the nature of things. Quite prepared to obey, he urged his customer to take what she wanted.

‘You must give me time to choose,’ she retorted sharply.

Then she felt all the bundles of leeks over again. Finally, she selected the one she thought the best, and held it clasped to her bosom as saints in church pictures hold the palm of victory.

‘I will give you sevenpence. That’s quite enough; and I’ll have to fetch it from the shop, for I haven’t anything on me.’

Still embracing the leeks, she went back into the shop, whither she had been preceded by a customer carrying a child.

Just at this moment Constable 64 said to Crainquebille for the second time:

‘Move on.’

‘I’m waiting for my money,’ replied Crainquebille.

‘And I’m not telling you to wait for your money; I’m telling you to move on,’ retorted the constable grimly.

Meanwhile, the shoemaker’s wife in her shop was fitting blue slippers on to a child of eighteen months, whose mother was in a hurry. And the green heads of the leeks were lying on the counter.

For the half-century that he had been pushing his barrow through the streets, Crainquebille had been learning respect for authority. But now his position was a peculiar one: he was torn asunder between what was his due and what was his duty. His was not a judicial mind. He failed to understand that the possession of an individual right in no way exonerated him from the performance of a social duty. He attached too great importance to his claim to receive sevenpence, and too little to the duty of pushing his barrow and moving on, for ever moving on. He stood still.

For the third time Constable 64 quietly and calmly ordered him to move on. Unlike Inspector Montauciel, whose habit it is to threaten constantly but never to take proceedings, Constable 64 is slow to threaten and quick to act. Such is his character. Though somewhat sly he is an excellent servant and a loyal soldier. He is as brave as a lion and as gentle as a child. He knows naught save his official instructions.

‘Don’t you understand when I tell you to move on?’

To Crainquebille’s mind his reason for standing still was too weighty for him not to consider it sufficient. Wherefore, artlessly and simply he explained it:

‘Good Lord! Don’t I tel you that I am waiting for my money?’

Constable 64 merely replied:

‘Do you want me to summons you? If you do, you have only to say so.’