akeful.

Next morning a brilliant winter sun shone on the dazzling snow. The
diligence was by this time ready and waiting before the door, while a
flock of white pigeons, muffled in their thick plumage, strutted
solemnly in and out among the feet of the six horses, seeking what they
might devour.

The driver, enveloped in his sheepskin, sat on the box smoking his pipe,
and the radiant travelers were busily laying in provisions for the rest
of the journey.

They were only waiting now for Boule de Suif. She appeared.

She looked agitated and downcast as she advanced timidly towards her
fellow travelers, who all, with one movement, turned away their heads as
if they had not seen her. The Count, with a dignified movement, took his
wife by the arm and drew her away from this contaminating contact.

The poor thing stopped short, bewildered; then gathering up her courage
she accosted the wife of the manufacturer with a humble "Good morning,
Madame." The other merely replied with an impertinent little nod,
accompanied by a stare of outraged virtue. Everybody seemed suddenly
extremely busy, and they avoided her as if she had brought the plague
in her skirts. They then precipitated themselves into the vehicle, where
she arrived the last and by herself, and resumed in silence the seat she
had occupied during the first part of the journey.

They affected not to see her, not to recognize her; only Madame Loiseau,
glancing round at her with scorn and indignation, said half audibly to
her husband, "It's a good thing that I am not sitting beside her!"

The heavy conveyance jolted off, and the journey recommenced.

No one spoke for the first little while. Boule de Suif did not venture
to raise her eyes. She felt incensed at her companions, and at the same
time deeply humiliated at having yielded to their persuasions, and let
herself be sullied by the kisses of this Prussian into whose arms they
had hypocritically thrust her.

The Countess was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. Turning
to Madame Carre-Lamadon, she said, "You know Madame d'Etrelles, I
think?"

"Oh, yes; she is a great friend of mine."

"What a charming woman!"

"Fascinating! So truly refined; very cultivated, too, and an artist to
the tips of her fingers--she sings delightfully, and draws to
perfection."

The manufacturer was talking to the Count, and through the rattle
of the crazy windowpanes one caught a word here and there;
shares--dividend