untebanks performed on trumpets, and young girls with well-floured
shoulders smiled alluringly from the platforms.

Monsieur Tousseau's purse was never at rest; but they did not grow
impatient of the perpetual claims upon it. On the contrary, they only
laughed at the gigantic efforts these people would make to earn--perhaps
half a franc, or a few centimes.

Suddenly they encountered a face they knew. It was a young American whom
they had met at the hotel in Paris.

"Well, Monsieur Whitmore!" cried Madame Tousseau, gayly, "here at last
you've found a place where you can't possibly help enjoying yourself."

"For my part," answered the American, slowly, "I find no enjoyment in
seeing the people who haven't money making fools of themselves to please
the people who have."

"Oh, you're incorrigible!" laughed the young wife. "But I must
compliment you on the excellent French you are speaking to-day."

After exchanging a few more words, they lost each other in the crowd;
Mr. Whitmore was going back to Paris immediately.

Madame Tousseau's compliment was quite sincere. As a rule the grave
American talked deplorable French, but the answer he had made to Madame
was almost correct. It seemed as though it had been well thought out
in advance--as though a whole series of impressions had condensed
themselves into these words. Perhaps that was why his answer sank so
deep into the minds of Monsieur and Madame Tousseau.

Neither of them thought it a particularly brilliant remark; on the
contrary, they agreed that it must be miserable to take so gloomy a view
of things. But, nevertheless, his words left something rankling. They
could not laugh so lightly as before, Madame felt tired, and they began
to think of getting homewards.

Just as they turned to go down the long street of booths in order to
find their carriage, they met a noisy crew coming upward.

"Let us take the other way," said Monsieur.

They passed between two booths, and emerged at the back of one of the
rows. They stumbled over the tree-roots before their eyes got used to
the uncertain light which fell in patches between the tents. A dog,
which lay gnawing at something or other, rose with a snarl, and dragged
its prey further into the darkness, among the trees.

On this side the booths were made up of old sails and all sorts of
strange draperies. Here and there light shone through the openings, and
at one place Madame distinguished a face she knew.

It was th