At this moment the train began to slacken pace, and the steam was let
off with a demoniac shriek.

"_Tiens, mon enfant_," said the old lady, turning towards her niece with
affectionate anxiety. "I hope you have not taken cold."

The excellent soul believed that it was Mademoiselle Marie who sneezed.

And now the train had stopped--the porters were running along the
platform, shouting "Courbevoie! Courbevoie!"--the passengers were
scrambling out _en masse_--and beyond the barrier one saw a confused
crowd of _charrette_ and omnibus-drivers, touters, fruit-sellers, and
idlers of every description. Müller handed out the old lady and the
niece; the fat countrywoman scrambled up into a kind of tumbril driven
by a boy in _sabots_; the grisettes and soldiers walked off together;
and the tide of holiday-makers, some on foot, some in hired vehicles,
set towards the village. In the meanwhile, what with the crowd on the
platform and the crowd outside the barrier, and what with the hustling
and pushing at the point where the tickets were taken, we lost sight of
the old lady and her niece.

"What the deuce has become of _ma tante_?" exclaimed Müller, looking
round.

But neither _ma tante_ nor Mademoiselle Marie were anywhere to be seen.
I suggested that they must have gone on in the omnibus or taken a
_charrette_, and so have passed us unperceived.

"And, after all," I added, "we didn't want to enter upon an indissoluble