The old man was soon among the blankets, but Narcissus dallied over undressing, looking at this and that country quaintness on the wall; and then, while he was in a state of half man and half trousers, the voice of the woman called from the foot of the stairs:  Were they in bed yet?  ‘Surely, it cannot be! it is too irresistibly simple,’ was his thought; but he had immediately answered, ‘In a moment,’ as if such a question was quite a matter of course.

In that space he had blown the candle out, and was by the old man’s side:  and then, in the darkness, he heard the two women ascending the stairs.  Just outside his door, which he had left ajar, they seemed to turn off into a small adjoining room, from whence came immediately the soft delicious sounds of female disrobing.  They were but factory women, yet Narcissus thought of Saint Agnes and Madeline, we may be sure.  And then, at last—­indeed, there was to be no mistake about it—­the door was softly pushed open, and two dim forms whispered across to the adjoining bed, and, after a little preliminary rustle, settled down to a rather fluttered breathing.

No one had spoken:  not even a Goodnight; but Narcissus could hardly refrain from ringing out a great mirthful cry, while his heart beat strangely, and the darkness seemed to ripple, like sunlight in a cup, with suppressed laughter.  The thought of the little innocent deception as to their sleeping-room, which poverty had caused them to practise, probably held the breath of the women, while the shyness of sex was a common bond of silence—­at least, on the part of the three younger.  It was long before Narcissus was able to fall asleep, for he kept picturing the elder woman with burning cheek and open eyes in a kind of ’listening fear’ beneath the coverlet; and the oddity of the thing was so original, so like some conte of a Decameron or Heptameron, with the wickedness left out.  But at last wonder gave place to weariness, and sleep began to make a still odder magic of the situation.  The difficulty of meeting at breakfast next morning, which had at once suggested itself to N.’s mind, proved a vain fear; for, when he arose, that other bed was as smooth as though it had lain untouched through the night, and the daughters of labour had been gone two hours.  But it was not quite without sign that they had gone, for Narcissus had a dreamlike impression of opening his eyes in the early light to find a sweet woman’s face leaning over him; and I am sure he wanted to believe that it had bent down still further, till it had kissed his lips—­’ for his mother’s sake,’ she had said in her heart, as she slipped away and was seen no more.

‘If this were fiction, instead of a veracious study from life,’ to make use of a phrase which one rarely finds out of a novel, it would be unfitting to let such an incident as that just related fall to the ground, except as the seed of future development; but, this being as I have stated, there is nothing more to say of that winning ouvriere.  Narcissus saw her no more.