An intoxication comes over the man who walks long and aimlessly through the streets. With each step, the walk takes on greater momentum; ever weaker grow the temptations of shops, of bistros, of smiling women, ever more irresistible the magnetism of the next streetcorner, of a distant mass of foliage, of a street name. Then comes hunger. Our man wants nothing to do with the myriad of possibilities offered to sate his appetite. Like an ascetic animal, he flits through the unknown districts - until, utterly exhausted, he stumbles into his room, which receives him coldly and wears a strange air.