ed visions of nice little lunches,
delicate suppers, and uproarious, unlimited orgies. And she did not
hesitate to invent lies about the place. It was there, she declared,
that Florent came to gorge with those two hussies, the Mehudins, on whom
he lavished his money.

However, Pauline cried yet louder than before when the old maid took
hold of her hand. Mademoiselle Saget at first led her towards the gate
of the square; but before she got there she seemed to change her mind;
for she sat down at the end of a bench and tried to pacify the child.

"Come, now, give over crying, or the policeman will lock you up," she
said to Pauline. "I'll take you home safely. You know me, don't you? I'm
a good friend. Come, come, let me see how prettily you can smile."

The child, however, was choking with sobs and wanted to go away.
Mademoiselle Saget thereupon quietly allowed her to continue weeping,
reserving further remarks till she should have finished. The poor little
creature was shivering all over; her petticoats and stockings were
wet through, and as she wiped her tears away with her dirty hands she
plastered the whole of her face with earth to the very tips of her
ears. When at last she became a little calmer the old maid resumed in
a caressing tone: "Your mamma isn't unkind, is she? She's very fond of
you, isn't she?"

"Oh, yes, indeed," replied Pauline, still sobbing.

"And your papa, he's good to you, too, isn't he? He doesn't flog you, or
quarrel with your mother, does he? What do they talk about when they go
to bed?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm asleep then."

"Do they talk about your cousin Florent?"

"I don't know."

Mademoiselle Saget thereupon assumed a severe expression, and got up as
if about to go away.

"I'm afraid you are a little story-teller," she said. "Don't you know
that it's very wicked to tell stories? I shall go away and leave you, if
you tell me lies, and then Muche will come back and pinch you."

Pauline began to cry again at the threat of being abandoned. "Be quiet,
be quiet, you wicked little imp!" cried the old maid shaking
her. "There, there, now, I won't go away. I'll buy you a stick of
barley-sugar; yes, a stick of barley-sugar! So you don't love your
cousin Florent, eh?"

"No, mamma says he isn't good."

"Ah, then, so you see your mother does say something."

"One night when I was in bed with Mouton--I sleep with Mouton sometimes,
you know--I heard her say to father, 'Your brother has