city to thank De Frechede, who have been so good to me. She
goes to look for the director and brings me back permission. I run
to the house of those kind people, who force me to accept a silk
handkerchief and fifty francs for the journey. I go in search of my
papers at the commissariat. I return to the hospital, I have but a few
minutes to spare. I go in quest of Sister Angele, whom I find in the
garden, and I say to her with great emotion:

"Oh, dear Sister, I am leaving; how can I ever repay you for all that
you have done for me?"

I take her hand which she tries to withdraw, and I carry it to my lips.
She grows red. "Adieu!" she murmurs, and, menacing me with her finger,
she adds playfully, "Be good! and above all do not make any wicked
acquaintances on the journey."

"Oh, do not fear, my Sister, I promise you!"

The hour strikes; the door opens; I hurry off to the station; I jump
into a car; the train moves; I have left Evreux. The coach is half full,
but I occupy, fortunately, one of the corners. I put my nose out of
the window; I see some pollarded trees, the tops of a few hills that
undulate away into the distance, a bridge astride of a great pond that
sparkles in the sun like burnished glass. All this is not very pleasing.
I sink back in my corner, looking now and then at the telegraph wires
that stripe the ultramarine sky with their black lines, when the train
stops, the travellers who are about me descend, the door shuts, then
opens again and makes way for a young woman. While she seats herself and
arranges her dress, I catch a glimpse of her face under the displacing
of her veil. She is charming; with her eyes full of the blue of heaven,
her lips stained with purple, her white teeth, her hair the color of
ripe corn. I engage her in conversation. She is called Reine; embroiders
flowers; we chat like old friends. Suddenly she turns pale, and is about
to faint. I open the windows, I offer her a bottle of salts which I have
carried with me ever since my departure from Paris; she thanks me, it
is nothing, she says, and she leans on my knapsack and tries to sleep.
Fortunately we are alone in the compartment, but the wooden partition
that divides into equal parts the body of the carriage comes up only as
far as the waist, and one can see and above all hear the clamor and the
coarse laughter of the country men and women. I could have thrashed them
with hearty good will, these imbeciles who were troubling her sleep