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then he said: ‘Never mind, I will come.’ When the mass was
finished, I watched him leave the church with his daughter,
and I saw them enter a carriage. I certainly did tell him the
last door in the corridor, on the right.’
‘And what makes you think that he will come?’
‘I have just seen the fiacre turn into the Rue Petit-Ban-
quier. That is what made me run so.’
‘How do you know that it was the same fiacre?’
‘Because I took notice of the number, so there!’
‘What was the number?’
‘4 4 0 .’
‘Good, you are a clever girl.’
The girl stared boldly at her father, and showing the shoes
which she had on her feet:—
‘A clever girl, possibly; but I tell you I won’t put these
shoes on again, and that I won’t, for the sake of my health,
in the first place, and for the sake of cleanliness, in the
next. I don’t know anything more irritating than shoes that
squelch, and go ghi, ghi, ghi, the whole time. I prefer to go
ba refoot.’
‘You are right,’ said her father, in a sweet tone which con-
trasted with the young girl’s rudeness, ‘but then, you will
not be allowed to enter churches, for poor people must have
shoes to do that. One cannot go barefoot to the good God,’
he added bitterly.
Then, returning to the subject which absorbed him:—
‘So you are sure that he will come?’
‘He is following on my heels,’ said she.
The man started up. A sort of illumination appeared on