the shutters made us all jump up at the
same moment. Stout Ponderel ran to open the door, and in less than a
minute a little Sister of Mercy appeared in the doorway. She was thin,
wrinkled and timid, and successively greeted the four bewildered hussars
who saw her enter. Behind her, the noise of sticks sounded on the tiled
floor in the vestibule, and as soon as she had come into the
drawing-room, I saw three old heads in white caps, following each other
one by one, who came in, swaying with different movements, one inclining
to the right, while the other inclined to the left. And three worthy
women appeared, limping, dragging their legs behind them, crippled by
illness and deformed through old age, three infirm old women, past
service, the only three pensioners who were able to walk in the home
presided over by Sister Saint-Benedict.

She had turned round to her invalids, full of anxiety for them, and then,
seeing my quartermaster's stripes, she said to me: "I am much obliged to
you for thinking of these poor women. They have very little pleasure in
life, and you are at the same time giving them a great treat and doing
them a great honor."

I saw the priest, who had remained in the dark hallway, and was laughing
heartily, and I began to laugh in my turn, especially when I saw Marchas'
face. Then, motioning the nun to the seats, I said:

"Sit down, sister; we are very proud and very happy that you have
accepted our unpretentious invitation."

She took three chairs which stood against the wall, set them before the
fire, led her three old women to them, settled them on them, took their
sticks and shawls, which she put into a corner, and then, pointing to the
first, a thin woman with an enormous stomach, who was evidently suffering
from the dropsy, she said: "This is Mother Paumelle; whose husband was
killed by falling from a roof, and whose son died in Africa; she is sixty
years old." Then she pointed to another, a tall woman, whose head
trembled unceasingly: "This is Mother Jean-Jean, who is sixty-seven. She
is nearly blind, for her face was terribly singed in a fire, and her
right leg was half burned off."

Then she pointed to the third, a sort of dwarf, with protruding, round,
stupid eyes, which she rolled incessantly in all directions, "This is La
Putois, an idiot. She is only forty-four."

I bowed to the three women as if I were being presented to some royal
highnesses, and turning to the priest, I said: "You a