He made no attempt to thank her for her gentle ministration, and she thought how ungainly he looked--almost repellent--sprawling right across the porch, with his long legs stretched out before him and his hands buried in the pockets of his breeches. Nevertheless, he looked so helpless and so pitiable that the girl's kind heart was again stirred with compassion, and when presently he struggled with difficulty to his feet, she said impulsively: "The Rue de l'Anier is on my way. If you will wait, I'll return the jug to the kind concierge who let me have it and I'll walk with you. You really ought not to be about the street alone." "Oh, I am better now," he muttered, in the same ungracious way. "You had best leave me alone. I am not a suitable gallant for a pretty wench like you." But already the girl had tripped away with the jug, and returned two minutes later to find that the curious creature had already started on his way and was fifty yards and more farther up the street by now. She shrugged her shoulders, feeling mortified at his ingratitude, and not a little ashamed that she had forced her compassion where it was so obviously unwelcome. CHAPTER IV ONE DRAM OF JOY MUST HAVE A POUND OF CARE §1 She stood for a moment, gazing mechanically on the retreating figure of the asthmatic giant. The next moment she heard her name spoken, and turned quickly with a little cry of joy. "Régine!" A young man was hurrying towards her, was soon by her side and took her hand. "I have been waiting," he said reproachfully, "for more than an hour." In the twilight his face appeared pinched and pale, with dark, deep-sunken eyes that told of a troubled soul and a consuming, inward fire. He wore cloth clothes that were very much the worse for wear, and boots that were down at heel. A battered tricorne hat was pushed back from his high forehead, exposing the veined temples with the line of brown hair, and the arched, intellectual brows that proclaimed the enthusiast rather than the man of action. "I am sorry, Bertrand," the girl said simply. "But I had to wait such a long time at Mother Théot's, and----" "But what were you doing now?" he queried with an impatient frown. "I saw you from a distance. You came out of yonder house, and then stood here like one bewildered. You did not hear when first I called." "I have had quite a funny adventure," Régine explained; "and I am very tired. Sit down with me, Bertrand, for a moment I'll tell you all about it." A flat refusal hovered palpably on his lips. "It is too late----" he began, and the frown of impatience deepened upon his brow. He tried to protest, but Régine did look very tired. Already, without waiting for his consent, she had turned into the little porch, and Bertrand perforce had to follow her.