In spite of his protests she did as she said and established herself in the Customs house. The officers wanted to put her out, but she froze on to a seat with her bag, and as she didn’t look like a dangerous criminal, they left her there and she slept with her head against the wall. In the morning one of the sergeants went to get her some tea and toast and she made her toilet in the office of the Customs men, as though she were at home. Just at this moment the sub-lieutenant from the Admiral’s ship came to tell her that the _Pamir_, having arrived the evening before, was to sail at eight that morning for Bizerta, but that the skipper of the _Pamir_ was notorious for his disagreeable temper and that he would send her to the right-about. Much _she_ cared! Ten minutes afterwards, as we were weighing anchor, she climbed our ladder, which was still down, bounded on to the bridge as though she had never done anything else all her life, and went straight up to Fourgues, for all the world like Jeanne d’Arc before the Dauphin. Fourgues made a face, and while she got off her little speech, assumed the expression he wears before a head wind. That would have been enough to silence me, but she went on and on! She begged, she smiled, and finally, as Fourgues kept on saying nothing and examining her from top to toe--but I could see his hands fidgeting behind his back as they do when he is enjoying himself--she burst into sobs, sat down on her bag, patted her eyes with a handkerchief the size of a nut, and kept saying over and over: “How unhappy I am! Oh, how unhappy I am!” Well, Fourgues took off his cap, went over to her, put his hand under her chin like a kind papa, and said: “So it’s true, little girl, all this stuff that you have been telling me? Well, you’re in luck--there’s an empty cabin! Go and wash your face! I don’t want that fortunate husband of yours to think you are ill!” Old man, she fell on his neck and hugged him! Fourgues let her do it and returned the favour. And then, tapping her on the cheek: “It’s all right, little woman! I have a daughter of your age, and I only hope she’ll do half as much when she is married. And now, go and make yourself pretty and you can tell us all about it at luncheon--twelve sharp.” Well, old man, we had the most charming trip--lady’s weather, bright sunlight, and that little woman radiating happiness from her hair to her heels. Her little bag was a proper bag o’ mystery; out of it she pulled ribbons, bits of lace, and all sorts of fal-lals, and when she came out of Blangy’s cabin at noon, you would never have believed it was the same person who had arrived in the morning with her hair coming down, wearing a shabby dust-coat. How we laughed at table when she told us her misadventures! Fourgues could hardly contain himself for joy.