f an old man, worn out, thin and
wrinkled. The surprise among those who had brought in this seemingly
young dancer was so great that no one laughed, no one said a word.

All were watching this sad face as he lay on the straw chairs, his eyes
closed, his face covered with white hair, some long, falling from the
forehead over the face, others short, growing around the face and the
chin, and beside this poor head, that pretty little, neat varnished,
smiling mask.

The man regained consciousness after being inanimate for a long time, but
he still seemed to be so weak and sick that the physician feared some
dangerous complication. He asked: "Where do you live?"

The old dancer seemed to be making an effort to remember, and then he
mentioned the name of the street, which no one knew. He was asked for
more definite information about the neighborhood. He answered with a
great slowness, indecision and difficulty, which revealed his upset state
of mind. The physician continued:

"I will take you home myself."

Curiosity had overcome him to find out who this strange dancer, this
phenomenal jumper might be. Soon the two rolled away in a cab to the
other side of Montmartre.

They stopped before a high building of poor appearance. They went up a
winding staircase. The doctor held to the banister, which was so grimy
that the hand stuck to it, and he supported the dizzy old man, whose
forces were beginning to return. They stopped at the fourth floor.

The door at which they had knocked was opened by an old woman, neat
looking, with a white nightcap enclosing a thin face with sharp features,
one of those good, rough faces of a hard-working and faithful woman. She
cried out:

"For goodness sake! What's the matter?"

He told her the whole affair in a few words. She became reassured and
even calmed the physician himself by telling him that the same thing had
happened many times. She said: "He must be put to bed, monsieur, that is
all. Let him sleep and tomorrow he will be all right."

The doctor continued: "But he can hardly speak."

"Oh! that's just a little drink, nothing more; he has eaten no dinner, in
order to be nimble, and then he took a few absinthes in order to work
himself up to the proper pitch. You see, drink gives strength to his
legs, but it stops his thoughts and words. He is too old to dance as he
does. Really, his lack of common sense is enough to drive one mad!"

The doctor, surprised, insisted:

"But why