"_Sacrédié!_ you are right. I will tell you the story. It's a very simple story, however, and won't take long.--I loved a woman, and my love was returned, at least I thought so. At all events, Bastringuette was mine, as you were Monsieur Albert's--except that I did not seduce her; because, you see, in Paris, a girl knows well enough what she's doing when she gives her heart away; you may please her, but you don't seduce her. Bastringuette was a good girl, a little free in her manners, and a little bold in her talk; but I loved her as she was, and she--she loved me as I was, and yet I must admit that I didn't live the kind of life then that I do now. I gambled and drank and got drunk, and fought for a word, for nothing at all; and I spent in one day all I'd earn in a week; but she forgave my foolishness, and she took care of my room, and my linen--and all without a trace of selfishness, for sometimes she had to give me money for my dinner, although she had none too much for herself; she was a _marchande des quatre saisons_, and didn't always earn in a week as much as I'd spend in one evening with Jean Ficelle and other tipplers." "Poor girl!" said Adeline; "she loved you dearly!" "You think so! and I thought so too. But you'll see in a minute that I was mistaken. I had a friend too, a comrade, younger than me; his name was Paul, he was a messenger, like me, and his stand was alongside of mine. This Paul had such a sweet, gentle way with him--and such manners--something that attracted you right away. And with it all, a hard worker--never loafed, never got drunk, and never gave me anything but good advice. So I looked on him as my brother; I'd have fought for him or jumped into the fire for him! Well, Bastringuette left me, to go with Paul; and he, swearing all the time that he never saw her, that he loved another woman, made assignations with Bastringuette--met her in a different quarter, where they didn't think they'd be seen." "Are you quite sure of that, brother?" "Ah! if anyone had told me, I wouldn't have believed it! but I saw 'em--saw 'em with my own eyes! and then I couldn't doubt it any longer. I intended at first to be content with despising 'em, but one day--I had been off with Jean Ficelle, and I was a little light-headed--I saw Paul on a street corner with my faithless wench. Gad! I couldn't hold myself back; I insisted on fighting; I jumped at him, and he didn't defend himself----" "O mon Dieu! did you kill him?" "No, no; he was only wounded, and that by a mere chance: he fell on a paving stone. But he's been well a long while. Luckily, I never see him now; he's taken another stand, near Rue Taitbout, I think." "But if you should see him, my dear, you wouldn't fight with him again, I hope; once is quite enough--ah! sometimes it's too much." Adeline put her handkerchief to her eyes, and Sans-Cravate replied: "Oh, no, no! I'm done with him! I shall never speak to him again. But heaven has--oh! it's a very strange thing!"