Two banks of the Seine

au, and proceeded faster through the Champs

ssed on the hot water bottle, scorching her soles on the white metal

int Germain, looking out to peep at the rue de Bourgogne wh

he cab left the rue de Rennes and turned into the rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs, Mme. Chamb

t stretched their dark stems against daylight and the noise from outside. Here and there she noticed a few houses that had none and were not quite so high as the others. Beyo

med empty of people, as if all had gone to the center, to the gayety of the boulevards. Yet here the aspect was a different one; the quietness was less idle and seemed to vibrate with thought. She felt that there

They knelt down and prayed, in long black or gray rows. The dark sanctuaries softened their silhouettes and the smoke of incense twisted its curls abo

e. The concierge was an old woman with catarrh. She told her where M. Rainda apa

next house on the other side of the path. But to her right, she saw gardens, uneven houses, a whole panorama of strange ro

as ushered into the dr

ladies whose dresses showed no care for the fashions of the day.

e. Chambannes said, as she sat in the dark-red

s working with her father.... You shall see

es thanked he

isitors, the wife of a profess

!... Has sh

plied. "A mere indisposition while she wa

rcq, the wife of the famo

ness,

e so," Mme. Ra

d knew he had his sea-legs and sailed up and down the seas every summer, at Langru

ailor but had been able to bear dancing

d and Mme. Chamba

as charming,

" Mme. Raind

ed Mme. Raindal to attend some of the Benedictions of the Host at Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas, where the No?l O would be sung with rare brilliancy. Mme. Raindal rather preferred those of Saint-étienne-du-Mont. The discussion grew quit

e of a pause for

master and your daughter?... I would be

the contrary.... The

ed at a s

he voice of M.

isit

e lifted her head at the sound and rose fr

omes to inquire after you, d

already pursed with vex

, dear Madame.... It

cused herself and returned to her visitors. As on the previous day, at the ball, when

sit down

a chair

r study is!.

e!" M. Raindal replied. "The

mbannes

ing?... I inte

sible surprises," M. Raindal an

mbannes' visit roused her indignation. Why had that woman come? What more did she want? What right had she to disturb them with her pratt

on gardens, do they not

Paris! We have a marvelous

he level of the others. To the right was the square tower of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas, then the immense dome of the Pantheon, then a thin, fine point-the spire of the Sorbonne. Further to the left rose the shining sphere of the cupola of the Missions and at the end a truncated pyramid upon which floated a tiny,

s gushed over it all, finding everything either charming or pretty.

of Notre-Dame-du-Saint-Rosaire.... See, the

down and hid their faces. One of them, thin and light, seemed young; the other was stouter and appeared old. Both had the square, unshapely waist which the bands of their aprons mark on the corsetless flesh of nuns. Mme. Chambannes ex

rming little mummies!... They se

e black lines above squat noses which were in several cases worn out at the tip. There were inscriptions all down their bodies even to the feet, which were swollen like those of gouty people. Some h

mus and a woma breast, who was, it was thought, consecrated to motherhood or to preserving people from ill-luck. The master spoke of them all tenderly and volubly as if he had imagined them and made them himself with his own hands. Well, had he not created them? Had he not given them life when he tore them one by one from the Nothingness of the sands or the depths of the tombs? The scarabs o

rribly old, are they not

"On an average, they date back 3

o Egypt, next year ... I co

digs deep enough.... The de

" the young woman

or with impatience. She started whe

all favor to ask of you.... Are you f

ard to guess, in spite of his poor eyesight, the

me great honor and give me much pleasur

indal

ask Mme. Raindal.... At least, I do not

d to his

Your mother has not,

tence short with th

her, we

go away, back to her tall coxcomb, that Gerald whose mistress she must surely be! Later they could get out of the engagement. Let her onl

saw Zozé off at the door. Even Thérèse followed them. When Mme. Chambannes reached the stairs

k that held both admiration and a little envy, such as the poor give when they watch t

e of La Concorde and ent

ll-dressed young man she passed. At last she was back i

ent. The cold seemed less bitter, less cruel to her cheeks. Men walked down the avenue, comfortable, peaceful, covered with soft fur coats. Women passed in rapid victorias, their faces a smile in the midst of furs; children played and ran among the trees. Everywhere the pleasures of summer were carried on in spite o

What would Gerald say? Fortunately she was almost there. Yet it was not fast enough for Zozé who, with her feet pro

ight and entered the apartment, all out of breath. Gerald was there. He was dozing on the divan of the dressing room. His arms were fo

tenderly. Poor little Raldo! Ho

ed, she

p? Are you asl

ng his eyes,

p but I am affectin

zé asked

me way, "you are late, Madame,

returned his caress with

here I h

from no one!"

been to see

Kanga

ozé opened h

Kanga

e held his arms and his hands? A regular kangaroo! All h

e, the carpet, the hangings; she told of the smelling pot-au-feu; she gave an imitation

tched his limbs by walking round the room on his hands, his legs bent back and his feet hanging over his neck. When she had finished her story, he turned a so

going to engage th

nd?" Zozé ventured,

You already have a novelist, three artists, two musicians and an abbé.

and manner and declared, as

home here, d

er after a few minutes. While he lit the candles on the mantelpiece, Mme. Cham

o were walking in the cold, in the grassless

showing her another life, as good and even probably better than her own, a li

roached and as

we think

a forbidden thing, Zozé assumed ag

hat we adore you, wicked Raldo, who ma

arms in a gesture of

er embrace, coaxing h