—­Yes, but Mademoiselle Durand would not have wanted you.

—­Oh, uncle, do not speak of that young person with whom you are not acquainted, and regarding whom you are strangely mistaken, for you see her through the dirty spectacles of my servant.  You want to take me away on her account, but are there not young persons everywhere?  You know, as well as I, to what dangers young priests are exposed; shall I be safe from those dangers by going away?  No.  And since it is agreed between us that, no more than others, can we avoid certain necessities of nature....

-Alas, alas, human infirmity!

  Omnia vincit amor, et nos cadamus amori.

—­Then....

—­Then, we choose our company; for instance, that pretty girl there.

And Ridoux leant his head out of the door.  They had just reached Vic, where they changed horses.

LXXX.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

  “Methinks Queen Mab upon your cheek
  Doth blend the tints of cream and rose. 
  And lends the pearls which deck her hat
  And rubies too from off her gown,
  To be your own fit ornament.”

  E. DARIO (Strophes).

Before the Hotel des Messageries, a young girl, modestly dressed, was waiting for the diligence, with an old band-box in her hand.

Marcel, who had also put his head out of the coach-door, looked at her with surprise.  He had seen this girl somewhere.  Yes, he remembered her.  He had seen that charming countenance, he had already admired that fair hair and those blue eyes.  But the face had grown pale; the cheeks had lost their freshness with the sun-burn, and the bosom its opulence.  Marcel thought her prettier and more delicate like this.  For it was really she, the mountebank’s daughter, whom he had seen a few weeks before, dancing in the market-place of Althausen.

By what chance was she still in the neighbourhood, this travelling swallow?

Was the house on wheels then in the vicinity with its two broken-winded horses, and the clown with the cracked voice, and the big woman with the red face, and the thin and hungry little children?

He looked if he could not see them all, but he saw only the pretty fair girl, who had recognized him also, and made him a friendly bow.

—­Mademoiselle Zulma! called the conductor.

—­It is I, she said.

—­This way, this way, my little dear, said the conductor with a good-natured familiarity which disgusted Marcel; there is no room inside.  And, to the priest’s great delight, he opened the coupe.

The young girl seemed surprised, for she hesitated a little and said: 

—­What, in the coupe?

—­Yes, my imp of Satan, in the coupe, and in good hands too.  Do you complain?  If you are not converted yet, here are two gentlemen who will undertake your conversion.