he looked? ill-natured
people asked themselves. Was it the mere presentiment of unknown and
shameful mysteries or else indignation at the relations ordained as the
concomitant of love that so strongly affected the son of Virginie the
greengrocer? The urchins of the neighborhood as they ran past the shop
would fling disgusting remarks at him just to see him cast down his
eyes. The girls amused themselves by walking up and down before him,
cracking jokes that made him go into the store. The boldest among them
teased him to his face just to have a laugh, to amuse themselves, made
appointments with him and proposed all sorts of things.

So Madame Husson had become thoughtful.

Certainly, Isidore was an exceptional case of notorious, unassailable
virtue. No one, among the most sceptical, most incredulous, would
have been able, would have dared, to suspect Isidore of the slightest
infraction of any law of morality. He had never been seen in a cafe,
never been seen at night on the street. He went to bed at eight o'clock
and rose at four. He was a perfection, a pearl.

But Mme. Husson still hesitated. The idea of substituting a boy for a
girl, a "rosier" for a "rosiere," troubled her, worried her a little,
and she resolved to consult Abbe Malon.

The abbe responded:

"What do you desire to reward, madame? It is virtue, is it not, and
nothing but virtue? What does it matter to you, therefore, if it
is masculine or feminine? Virtue is eternal; it has neither sex nor
country; it is 'Virtue.'"

Thus encouraged, Mme. Husson went to see the mayor.

He approved heartily.

"We will have a fine ceremony," he said. "And another year if we can
find a girl as worthy as Isidore we will give the reward to her. It
will even be a good example that we shall set to Nanterre. Let us not be
exclusive; let us welcome all merit."

Isidore, who had been told about this, blushed deeply and seemed happy.

The ceremony was fixed for the 15th of August, the festival of the
Virgin Mary and of the Emperor Napoleon. The municipality had decided to
make an imposing ceremony and had built the platform on the couronneaux,
a delightful extension of the ramparts of the old citadel where I will
take you presently.

With the natural revulsion of public feeling, the virtue of Isidore,
ridiculed hitherto, had suddenly become respected and envied, as it
would bring him in five hundred francs besides a savings bank book, a
mountain of consideration, and