affording a constant succession
of delightful hiding-places, where the youngsters buried themselves
amidst the scent of dried fruits, oranges, and fresh apples. When
they got tired of playing in his way, they went off to join old
Madame Chantemesse at the Market of the Innocents. They arrived there
arm-in-arm, laughing gaily as they crossed the streets with never the
slightest fear of being run over by the endless vehicles. They knew the
pavement well, and plunged their little legs knee-deep in the vegetable
refuse without ever slipping. They jeered merrily at any porter in
heavy boots who, in stepping over an artichoke stem, fell sprawling
full-length upon the ground. They were the rosy-cheeked familiar spirits
of those greasy streets. They were to be seen everywhere.

On rainy days they walked gravely beneath the shelter of a ragged old
umbrella, with which Mother Chantemesse had protected her stock-in-trade
for twenty years, and sticking it up in a corner of the market they
called it their house. On sunny days they romped to such a degree that
when evening came they were almost too tired to move. They bathed their
feet in the fountains, dammed up the gutters, or hid themselves beneath
piles of vegetables, and remained there prattling to each other just as
they did in bed at night. People passing some huge mountain of cos or
cabbage lettuces often heard a muffled sound of chatter coming from
it. And when the green-stuff was removed, the two children would be
discovered lying side by side on their couch of verdure, their eyes
glistening uneasily like those of birds discovered in the depth of a
thicket. As time went on, Cadine could not get along without Marjolin,
and Marjolin began to cry when he lost sight of Cadine. If they happened
to get separated, they sought one another behind the petticoats of every
stallkeeper in the markets, amongst the boxes and under the cabbages. If
was, indeed, chiefly under the cabbages that they grew up and learned to
love each other.

Marjolin was nearly eight years old, and Cadine six, when old Madame
Chantemesse began to reproach them for their idleness. She told them
that she would interest them in her business, and pay them a sou a day
to assist her in paring her vegetables. During the first few days the
children displayed eager zeal; they squatted down on either side of
the big flat basket with little knives in their hands, and worked away
energetically. Mother Chantemesse made a