And yet, tall Fanny was a beautiful woman!  With her head like a Bacchante, and her body like a goddess, in all the full splendor of her twenty-three years, she deserved something better than this miserable pavement, where she could not even pick up the five francs which she wanted for the requirements of the next day.  But there!  In this infernal Paris, in this swarming crowd of competitors who all jostled each other, courtesans, like artists, did not attain to eminence until their later years.  In that they resembled precious stones, as the most valuable of them are those that have been set the oftenest.

And that was why tall Fanny, who was later to become one of the richest and most brilliant stars of Parisian gallantry, was walking about the streets on this bitter December night, without a half-penny in her pocket, in spite of her head like a Bacchante, and her body like a goddess, and in all the full splendor of her twenty-three years.

However, it was too late now to hope to meet anybody; there was not a single foot passenger about; the street was decidedly empty, dull and lifeless.  Nothing was to be heard, except the whistling of sudden gusts of wind, and nothing was to be seen, except the flickering gas lights, which looked like dying butterflies.  Well!  The only thing was to return home alone.

But suddenly, tall Fanny saw a human form standing on the pavement at the next crossing, and whoever it was, seemed to be hesitating and uncertain which way to go.  The figure, which was very small and slight, was wrapped in a long cloak, which reached almost to the ground.

“Perhaps he is a hunchback,” the girl said to herself.  “They like tall women!” And she walked quickly towards him, from habit, already saying:  “Pst!  Pst! Come home with me, you handsome, dark fellow!” What luck!  The man did not go away, but came towards Fanny, although somewhat timidly, while she went to meet him, repeating her wheedling words, so as to reassure him.  She went all the quicker, as she saw that he was staggering with the zig-zag walk of a drunken man, and she thought to herself:  “When once they sit down, there is no possibility of getting these beggars up again, and they want to go to sleep just where they are.  I only hope I shall get to him before he tumbles down.”

Luckily she reached him, just in time to catch him in her arms, but as soon as she had done so, she almost let him fall, in her astonishment.  It was neither a drunken man nor a hunchback, but a child of twelve or thirteen in an overcoat, who was crying, and who said in a weak voice:  “I beg your pardon, madame, I beg your pardon.  If you only knew how hungry and cold I am!  I beg your pardon!  Oh!  I am so cold.”