he
circle. The one was a man, in a threadbare brown greatcoat, with a large
woollen comforter wound several times about his neck; and the other a
woman, in an equally shabby dress, who spoke to me in broken English.

"Mees, I am Madame Perrier, and this my husband," she said; "come on.
The letter was here only an hour ago; but all is ready. Come on; come
on."

She put her hand through my arm, and took hold of Minima's hand, as if
claiming both of us. A dead silence had fallen upon the little crowd, as
if they were trying to catch the meaning of the English words. But as
she pushed on, with us both in her hands, a titter for the first time
ran from lip to lip. I glanced back, and saw Monsieur Perrier, the
_avocat_, hurriedly putting our luggage on a wheelbarrow, and preparing
to follow us with it along the dark streets.

I was too bewildered yet to feel any astonishment. We were in France, in
a remote part of France, and I did not know what Frenchmen would or
would not do. Madame Perrier, exhausted with her effort at speaking
English, had ceased speaking to me, and contented herself with guiding
us along the strange streets. We stopped at last opposite the large,
handsome house, which stood in the front of the photograph I had seen in
London. I could just recognize it in the darkness; and behind lay the
garden and the second range of building. Not a glimmer of light shone in
any of the windows.

"It is midnight nearly," said Madame Perrier, as we came to a
stand-still and waited for her husband, the _avocat_.

Even when he came up with the luggage there seemed some difficulty in
effecting an entrance. He passed through the garden-gate, and
disappeared round the corner of the house, walking softly, as if careful
not to disturb the household. How long the waiting seemed! For we were
hungry, sleepy, and cold--strangers in a very strange land. I heard
Minima sigh weariedly.

At last he reappeared round the corner, carrying a candle, which
flickered in the wind. Not a word was spoken by him or his wife as the
latter conducted us toward him. We were to enter by the back-door, that
was evident. But I did not care what door we entered by, so that we
might soon find rest and food. She led us into a dimly-lighted room,
where I could just make out what appeared to be a carpenter's bench,
with a heap of wood-shavings lying under it. But I was too weary to be
certain about any thing.

"It is a leetle cabinet of work of my hu