red by the window, reflecting that she ought to go
and ask counsel of Abbe Roustan, who was a very sensible man, she saw a
crowd of people round a stretcher in the market square below. The night
was falling, still she distinctly recognised Cadine weeping in the midst
of the crowd; while Florent and Claude, whose boots were white with
dust, stood together talking earnestly at the edge of the footway.
She hurried downstairs again, surprised to see them back so soon, and
scarcely had she reached her counter when Mademoiselle Saget entered the
shop.

"They have found that scamp of a Marjolin in the cellar, with his head
split open," exclaimed the old maid. "Won't you come to see him, Madame
Quenu?"

Lisa crossed the road to look at him. The young fellow was lying on his
back on the stretcher, looking very pale. His eyes were closed, and
a stiff wisp of his fair hair was clotted with blood. The bystanders,
however, declared that there was no serious harm done, and, besides, the
scamp had only himself to blame, for he was always playing all sorts of
wild pranks in the cellars. It was generally supposed that he had
been trying to jump over one of the stone blocks--one of his favourite
amusements--and had fallen with his head against the slab.

"I dare say that hussy there gave him a shove," remarked Mademoiselle
Saget, pointing to Cadine, who was weeping. "They are always larking
together."

Meantime the fresh air had restored Marjolin to consciousness, and he
opened his eyes in wide astonishment. He looked round at everybody, and
then, observing Lisa bending over him, he gently smiled at her with
an expression of mingled humility and affection. He seemed to have
forgotten all that had happened. Lisa, feeling relieved, said that he
ought to be taken to the hospital at once, and promised to go and see
him there, and take him some oranges and biscuits. However, Marjolin's
head had fallen back, and when the stretcher was carried away Cadine
followed it, with her flat basket slung round her neck, and her hot
tears rolling down upon the bunches of violets in their mossy bed. She
certainly had no thoughts for the flowers that she was thus scalding
with her bitter grief.

As Lisa went back to her shop, she heard Claude say, as he shook hands
with Florent and parted from him: "Ah! the confounded young scamp! He's
quite spoiled my day for me! Still, we had a very enjoyable time, didn't
we?"

Claude and Florent had returned both