the crowd. Mealy Benoit was going through his trial.
The great fellow came along with rapid, rhythmical step, with supple
limbs and chest hunched forward. Surely balanced on his broad shoulders
and the nape of his neck was an enormous sack of meal, accurately
weighed to scale three hundredweight. Without the least hesitation or
slackening of pace, he covered the two hundred yards, reaching the goal
perfectly fresh and fit; he stood for a moment or two in front of the
judges, displaying the mighty muscles of his naked chest, over which the
perspiration was running, and evincing genuine delight in not freeing
himself from his heavy burden at the earliest possible moment. The
applause was enthusiastic and immediate, but silence quickly fell again
and all eyes turned towards the starting-post. It was Hogshead
Geoffroy's turn.

The giant was really a splendid sight. Instead of walking as his rival
had done, he began to step like a gymnast, and the crowd yelled their
delight. It seemed that he must beat his rival's time easily, but all at
once the great sack on his shoulders was seen to shake, and Geoffroy
almost stopped, uttering a heavy groan before he got going again. The
crowd looked on in surprise: where he had just set his feet there was a
wet mark upon the asphalte: Geoffroy had slipped on a piece of
orange-peel. But he managed to restore the equilibrium of the sack, and,
taught caution by the risk he had just run, he finished the course with
measured steps.

* * * * *

Two hours later the result of the competition was announced. Hogshead
Geoffroy and Mealy Benoit were bracketed equal, having taken exactly the
same time to cover the course; upon the result of the written
examination would depend the final issue, and the matter was all the
more important because this year there was but one vacancy for a Market
Porter.

Berthe, or Bobinette, was vehemently discussing with her neighbours the
mishap that had befallen Geoffroy during his trial. A man dressed in a
shabby black overcoat buttoned up to the chin, and wearing a kind of
jockey cap on his greasy hair, was watching her intently, seeming to
agree with all she said while really interested in something else.
Berthe, who was very intent upon the matter in hand, did not notice this
individual's manner; it was Julot, her faithful squire for the last two
hours, who got her away.

"Come," he said, taking her by the sleeve, "you know yo