HE SITS DOWN M the cripple feels his legs unhinge, and he has to sit down. His existence, his very survival, is in flight, but for the moment he must remain here. He sits as a fugitive does, with a profounder quiet than other men, a will to invisibility. M tries to desire his enforced stillness, so that some slight anxiety does not betray itself in gesture or posture. Against all instincts be- longing to his situation, M the cripple nurtures a love of motionlessness, and he attempts to acquire the mind of an unwanted individual. He counts the number of people wearing red, he notices the endless variety of strides, he takes delight in observing those unconscious of being observed. His attention to this mood, this way of being, is occasionally broken by the thought of his legs--Are they strong enough now? How can I not seem to need help?--and by the realization that the people on the street actually believe that they are not fugitives, that they are free to do as they please, that no power opposes them, that they have no need for caution or release from fear, that they are only going to a destination that they know and have chosen.