"It is as I have told you. They were close by me, those two, and turning round to enter the hotel again, when, in one second--his foot slipped, and he came down on the pavement with his head against the steps. Imagine my feelings!" A buzz of sympathy responded to this appeal. In the character of an eye-witness, madame almost became a heroine. Fanchon timidly inquired,-- "He is old?" "He looked half dead before." "And he is hurt?" "Hurt! Of what then do you conceive our skulls to be composed? of granite--iron--india-rubber? _Tenez_, I heard it crack, I tell you; and after that there is not much to be said." "No, assuredly." "Madame has reason." Veuve Angelin looked proudly at Nannon: Nannon laughed. "Since the monsieur is dead, it is strange that Monsieur Deshoulieres should trouble himself to pass the morning with him," she said. "And why?" demanded Mere Angelin, reddening with anger. "Is it likely,--I put the question to you all, mesdames,--is it likely that she--she!--should be a better judge of what is strange in the proceedings of Monsieur Deshoulieres than I who have lived in his service for nearly fifteen months?" There was a murmur in the negative, but it was not very decided. These doubts had the effect of weakening the general confidence. "Certainly, madame should know," said her stanchest adherent. "Nevertheless," persisted Nannon, "you may rest assured that an hour ago he was not dead, and that Monsieur Deshoulieres was doing his utmost that he should not die." "Not dead! But I tell you I heard his skull crack!" "How can you answer that, Nannon?" "His skull? Bah! I was in the house at the time, and helped to carry him upstairs. M. Deshoulieres came while I was there." There was a general exclamation, old Nannon was surrounded. Here was one who had been more than an eye-witness, an actual actor in the event which was agitating Charville. Fanchon caught up her basket again, another seized her umbrella, she was the centre of the group which moved away, questioning as they went, towards the upper town. Veuve Angelin would have been left behind, bitter and friendless, to drag her heavy pitcher as best she might up the steep hill, and to moralise upon the fleeting charms of popularity, if old Nannon, generous in the moment of victory, had not desired one of her followers to assist her.