sengers, radiant with delight at their approaching
departure, were putting up provisions for the remainder of the journey.

They were waiting only for Boule de Suif. At last she appeared.

She seemed rather shamefaced and embarrassed, and advanced with timid
step toward her companions, who with one accord turned aside as if they
had not seen her. The count, with much dignity, took his wife by the
arm, and removed her from the unclean contact.

The girl stood still, stupefied with astonishment; then, plucking up
courage, accosted the manufacturer's wife with a humble "Good-morning,
madame," to which the other replied merely with a slight and insolent
nod, accompanied by a look of outraged virtue. Every one suddenly
appeared extremely busy, and kept as far from Boule de Suif as if her
skirts had been infected with some deadly disease. Then they hurried
to the coach, followed by the despised courtesan, who, arriving last of
all, silently took the place she had occupied during the first part of
the journey.

The rest seemed neither to see nor to know her--all save Madame Loiseau,
who, glancing contemptuously in her direction, remarked, half aloud, to
her husband:

"What a mercy I am not sitting beside that creature!"

The lumbering vehicle started on its way, and the journey began afresh.

At first no one spoke. Boule de Suif dared not even raise her eyes.
She felt at once indignant with her neighbors, and humiliated at having
yielded to the Prussian into whose arms they had so hypocritically cast
her.

But the countess, turning toward Madame Carre-Lamadon, soon broke the
painful silence:

"I think you know Madame d'Etrelles?"

"Yes; she is a friend of mine."

"Such a charming woman!"

"Delightful! Exceptionally talented, and an artist to the finger tips.
She sings marvellously and draws to perfection."

The manufacturer was chatting with the count, and amid the clatter
of the window-panes a word of their conversation was now and then
distinguishable: "Shares--maturity--premium--time-limit."

Loiseau, who had abstracted from the inn the timeworn pack of cards,
thick with the grease of five years' contact with half-wiped-off tables,
started a game of bezique with his wife.

The good sisters, taking up simultaneously the long rosaries hanging
from their waists, made the sign of the cross, and began to mutter
in unison interminable prayers, their lips moving ever more and more
swiftly, as if they sought whic