wish you well.

--I tell you to leave me alone.

--Look now, don't be naughty, for I am going to settle the matter.

--I don't want you. Don't touch me....

--And how are you going to get yourself out of this scrape, if you will not
let me get you out. You rebuff me again, though I only want to make you
happy.

--I tell you not to come near me.

--Come, be pacified, you little angry cat; only a kiss and that shall be
all.

He wanted to take hold of her waist, but she pushed him back. But he had
gone too far to believe that he ought to beat a retreat, and he retained to
the charge with renewed vigour. In the struggle she seized him by the neck,
his waistcoat came undone, and a little square bit of painted canvas, of a
dubious colour, remained in her hand. She threw it back in his face in
disgust.

--My scapular! he cried. You throw my scapular about in this way. Stay, you
are a little wretch, a street-walker, a hussy, a reprobate. You will perish
miserably, and I leave you to your fate. Ah, you throw away my scapular!

When he had said this, the good gentleman piously recovered his scapular,
buttoned up his overcoat, and retired full of dignity.

XCIII.

FROM THE DARK TO THE FAIR.

"Moderation should preside over
pleasure: let us seek in new pleasures
a refuge against the satiety of our
souls."

KALVOS DE ZANTE (_Odes nouvelles_).

Zulma had remembered Marcel and had gone to him boldly.

--You have been crying then, my child? said the priest who noticed her red
eyes.

The young girl in a few words informed him of her adventure.

--Who would ever have believed that? she said. Such a kind man! Such an
obliging lady! The old gentleman said to me at Vic: "I shall not concern
myself about you if you do not go to Confession, if you do not receive the
Communion, if you do not say your prayers." Whom can one trust?

And that Madame Connard: "Eat what you like, and don't stand on ceremony.
Monsieur Tibulle wishes it so. Old men are made to pay." And with all these
fine words, I owe her ten _francs_.

Marcel could not help laughing at the girl's artlessness.

--Then you have come to ask me for them.

--Yes, said Zulma blushing; have I not done right? She has kept my
band-box, the old thief; what it contains is not worth ten _francs_, but I
don't want to leave it with her.

--And what will you give me in exchange?

--Everything you want.

--That is a great deal to promise; but you