The girl dashed away her tears, and came slowly down from the steps; she would have gone into the Cathedral, but the doors of the north portal were not open, and she went mechanically along the streets towards Nannon's. The air was soft and healing, every thing gentle, dewy, and full of sweet beauty. Rain had fallen in the night, the broad fans of the horse-chestnut leaves still sheltered little depths out of which gleamed patches of wet, and diamond beads glistened on the grass, which feathered out here and there from a crevice in some old cracked wall. Presently Therese, who was not much thinking about her errand, caught the sound of a voice which recalled it. There was an old arched stone doorway lying in grey shade. Worn steps led up to it, and through the open space you could see a little sunny court, a stone fountain catching warm yellow tints, vines clambering round the edge, an old woman in a blue stuff gown and white cap leaning against it and chattering merrily. There must have been other invisible figures to whom Nannon was holding forth, for every now and then there came a little chorus of shrill laughter. The vine-leaves rustled, their shadows danced in the sunlight; Therese stood at the doorway and looked at it all for a moment before she called,-- "Nannon!" "Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the old woman, starting, "it is Mademoiselle Veuillot!" Therese's name still excited interest in Charville; two or three heads peered out from the framework of the doorway. "She looks thinner already, poor thing!" said one girl presently, in a compassionate whisper. "No wonder, Suzette, if Madame Roulleau provides her food." "But what becomes of all that money?" "Who knows! Monsieur le Docteur is a good man, without doubt, but such a sum is a sore temptation when one has but to help one's self." "That is not possible," said an old man, speaking in a thin cracked voice, and striking his stick on the ground. "The law provides that no med--" "Bah, bah, Pere Andre, the law may provide, but we all know that the rich snap their fingers at the law. Henri, little wicked one, be quiet. Well, Nannon, what did mademoiselle want?" "Nannon is to be mademoiselle's _bonne_!" cried the young girl, who had been the first to extract the information. "Nannon! mademoiselle's _bonne_!" The old woman laughed as heartily as the others, her brown, grotesque face wrinkling into innumerable lines. "It is true, nevertheless, my children," she said. "See what comes when least one expects it! M. Deshoulieres says she is not to walk about alone; figure to yourself her choosing me! If it had been Suzette now--but no, look to yourself, Suzette; after this you will be having me for a rival with Pierre and Jacques." The girl laughed, pouted, and twisted a wet vine-branch round little Henri's head. "Is it all settled, Mere Nannon?" "There is Madame Roulleau to be seen."