ght her
prettier and more delicate like this. For it was really she, the
mountebank's daughter, whom he had seen a few weeks before, dancing in the
market-place of Althausen.

By what chance was she still in the neighbourhood, this travelling swallow?

Was the house on wheels then in the vicinity with its two broken-winded
horses, and the clown with the cracked voice, and the big woman with the
red face, and the thin and hungry little children?

He looked if he could not see them all, but he saw only the pretty fair
girl, who had recognized him also, and made him a friendly bow.

--Mademoiselle Zulma! called the conductor.

--It is I, she said.

--This way, this way, my little dear, said the conductor with a
good-natured familiarity which disgusted Marcel; there is no room inside.
And, to the priest's great delight, he opened the coupe.

The young girl seemed surprised, for she hesitated a little and said:

--What, in the coupe?

--Yes, my imp of Satan, in the coupe, and in good hands too. Do you
complain? If you are not converted yet, here are two gentlemen who will
undertake your conversion.

--Well, I ask for nothing better, she answered laughing; and addressing
herself to Marcel: Will you take my band-box for me?

He took the box, and at the same time offered his hand to help her to get
up. She leant on it prettily; and bowing to him, and to Ridoux also, she
sat down beside Marcel.

--You have come back then into the country, Mademoiselle.

--I have not left it, sir; I have been ill. I am coming out of the
hospital.

--Oh, really. And what has been the matter with you?

--'Pon my word, I don't know. I caught a chill after an evening
performance, and when I woke up the next morning, I could not move arm or
leg. My father was obliged to leave me here in the hospital. They have been
very kind to me, and an old gentleman has even paid my coach-fare. Oh,
there are good people everywhere.

--And you are going to Nancy?

--To Nancy first, then I shall rejoin the company, which ought to be at
Epinal.

Ridoux was listening in his corner.

--You know this young person then? he said.

--I know her through having seen her once at Althausen.

--Twice, the young girl corrected him: when I arrived and when I went away.
You remember, we were both of us at our window?

Marcel remembered it very well; he remembered still better the fantastic
sight in the market-place, and the lascivious dance, and the thea