, as she had had
too many glasses of beer which a charitable female friend had given her,
and was almost afraid to go back to her room, as her landlord had told
her in the morning that unless she paid the fortnight's back rent that
she owed at the rate of a franc a day, he would turn her out of doors
and keep her things.

And this was the reason why they were both going up the _Rue des
Martyrs_ in a melancholy frame of mind. There was scarcely a soul in the
muddy streets; it was getting dark, and beginning to rain, and the
drains smelled horribly.

He passed her, and in a mechanical voice she said: "Will you not come
home with me, you handsome dark man?" "I have no money," he replied. But
she ran after him, and catching hold of his arm, she said: "Only a
franc; that is having it for nothing." And he turned round, looked at
her, and seeing that she must have been pretty, and that she was still
stout (and he was fond of fat women), he said: "Where do you live? Near
here?" "In the _Rue Lepic_." "Why! So do I." "Then that is all right, eh?
Come along, old fellow."

He felt in his pockets and pulled out all the money he found there,
which amounted to thirteen sous, and said: "That is all I have, upon my
honor!" "All right," she said; "come along."

And they continued their melancholy walk along the _Rue des Martyrs_,
side by side now, but without speaking, and without guessing that their
two existences harmonized and corresponded with each other, and that by
huddling up together, they would be merely accomplishing the acme of
their twin destinies.

THE DEBT

"Pst! Pst! Come with me, you handsome, dark fellow. I am very nice, as
you will see. Do come up. At any rate you will be able to warm yourself,
for I have a capital fire at home."

But nothing enticed the foot-passengers, neither being called a
handsome, dark fellow, which she applied quite impartially to old or fat
men also, nor the promise of pleasure which was emphasized by a
caressing ogle and smile, nor even the promise of a good fire, which was
so attractive in the bitter December wind. And tall Fanny continued her
useless walk, and the night advanced and foot-passengers grew scarcer.
In another hour the streets would be absolutely deserted, and unless she
could manage to pick up some belated drunken man, she would be obliged
to return home alone.

And yet, tall Fanny was a beautiful woman! With her head like a
_Bacchante_, and her body like a go