me leaning on his elbow at his window, looking at
the stars and listening mechanically to all the noises outside. The
market-place became empty. Only the stamping of the horses was to be heard
fastened near by, in the thick shade of the old lime-trees. A slender
thread of light again filtered up to hint.

VI.

THE LOOK.

"His pupils glowed in the dim twilight,
like burning coals."

LEON CLAUDEL (_Les Va-nu-pieds_).

It was like a lover attracting him, a magic thread which fastened yonder
was unwinding itself to his eye. He could not withdraw it thence, and armed
with his glass he tried to reach the bottom of the mysterious light. Two or
three times he saw a figure which he thought he recognized, pass and repass
in the lighted square.

Then the devil tempted him, like Jesus on the mountain. He did not show him
the kingdoms of the earth, but he gave him a glimpse of the mountebank
undressed. "Go not there," his good angel cried to him. But the Cure turned
a deaf ear; he went down noiselessly from his room and ventured into the
market-place.

In order to approach the carriage, he displayed all the strategy of a
skilful general; he first walked the length of the parsonage, then crossed
the market-place, then little by little, artfully, disappeared beneath the
lime-trees.

[PLATE I: THE LOOK. No one could have detected him plunging his burning
gaze into the depth of the little room where the fair dancer, stripped of
her tights, appeared to him half-naked.]

[Illustration]

The house on wheels was only a few paces away, silent, motionless, crammed
up. Within those ten feet of planks was perceptible an excess of lives,
passions, miseries, joys, of comedies and dramas; quite a world in
miniature.

Breathings and rustlings issued now and then from this living coffin. It
wan the heavy slumber of fatigue, of fever, or of drink.

One window was lighted still, and the half-drawn curtain allowed a room to
be seen the size of a sentry-box.

He passed slowly by, and gave a look.

A strange emotion seized him: he would have wished not to have seen, and he
felt full of a delicious trouble at having seen.

He looked round him with alarm; he was quite alone. No one had detected
him, no one could have detected him, plunging his burning gaze into the
depth of the little room where the fair dancer, stripped of her tights,
appeared to him half-naked and dazzling like a goddess of Rubens.

VII.

THE