FROM THE DARK TO THE FAIR.

“Moderation should preside over pleasure:  let us seek in new pleasures a refuge against the satiety of our souls.”

  KALVOS DE ZANTE (Odes nouvelles).

Zulma had remembered Marcel and had gone to him boldly.

—­You have been crying then, my child? said the priest who noticed her red eyes.

The young girl in a few words informed him of her adventure.

—­Who would ever have believed that? she said.  Such a kind man!  Such an obliging lady!  The old gentleman said to me at Vic:  “I shall not concern myself about you if you do not go to Confession, if you do not receive the Communion, if you do not say your prayers.”  Whom can one trust?

And that Madame Connard:  “Eat what you like, and don’t stand on ceremony.  Monsieur Tibulle wishes it so.  Old men are made to pay.”  And with all these fine words, I owe her ten francs.

Marcel could not help laughing at the girl’s artlessness.

—­Then you have come to ask me for them.

—­Yes, said Zulma blushing; have I not done right?  She has kept my band-box, the old thief; what it contains is not worth ten francs, but I don’t want to leave it with her.

—­And what will you give me in exchange?

—­Everything you want.

—­That is a great deal to promise; but you have nothing.

—­It is true, I have nothing, she said piteously.  Well, I will kiss you and will love you very much.  One may kiss a Cure, may one not?

Marcel thought she was getting to business very quickly.

—­Priests do not receive kisses from anybody, he replied.

—­From nobody? not even from a sister?

—­But you are not my sister.

—­Well, I will be your comrade.

—­No more do they have a comrade.

—­Oh, well, if I were a man I should not like to be in your position; one must get awfully tired of being all alone.  What are you able to do all the blessed day?  For my part, in the first place I must have a lover.

—­Ha, ha! and who is your lover?

—­A rider at the Loyal Circus.  A handsome boy too.  A tall dark fellow like you.  He is a little too proud, but I like that in a man.

—­And for how long has he been your lover?

—­Ever since I have seen him.  It is nearly two years ago at the fete at
Mirecourt.  Our booth was beside the Circus.

—­Two years! cried Marcel:  but at what age did you begin?

—­Begin what? to dance on the tight-rope?

—­To have lovers.

—­But I have only had one, and that is he.

—­Well, how old were you when you had him?

—­I have never had him.

—­Look, dear child, you have told me that you are sixteen.

—­Yes, sir.

—­Then you began at fourteen.

—­Began what?