At this moment, his quick ears detected the sound of footsteps on the stairs. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. 250 Michelle intercepted John before he reached the backstage entrance. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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