This man's isolation is not merely momentary, it is permanent. He is a widower, his three children are dead, he has no one left on earth; also he is a drunk, and has lost his job on that account. His name is Praisegod Piepsam, and he is rather fully described as to his clothing and physiognomy in a way which relates him to a sinister type in the author's repertory -- he is a forerunner of those enigmatic strangers in ``Death in Venice,'' for example, who represent some combination of cadaver, exotic, and psychopomp.

This strange person quarrels with a cyclist because the latter is using the path rather than the highroad. The cyclist, a sufficiently commonplace young fellow, is not named but identified simply as ``Life'' -- that and a license number, which Piepsam uses in addressing him. ``Life'' points out that ``everybody uses this path,'' and starts to ride on. Piepsam tries to stop him by force, receives a push in the chest from ``Life,'' and is left standing in impotent and growing rage, while a crowd begins to gather. His rage assumes a religious form; that is, on the basis of his own sinfulness and abject wretchedness, Piepsam becomes a prophet who in his ecstasy and in the name of God imprecates doom on Life -- not only the cyclist now, but the audience, the world, as well: ``all you light-headed breed.'' This passion brings on a fit which proves fatal. Then an ambulance comes along, and they drive Praisegod Piepsam away.