the Quartier Latin.

Over the tavern, as its sign-board, hangs MARCEL's picture, "The
Passage of the Red Sea," while underneath, in large letters, is the
inscription. "At the Port of Marseilles." On either side of the door
are frescoes of a Turk and a Zouave with a huge laurel-wreath round
his fez. From the ground-floor windows of the tavern, which faces the
toll-gate, light gleams. The plane-trees, grey and gaunt, which flank
the toll-gate square, lead diagonally towards the two boulevards.
Between each tree is a marble bench. It is towards the close of
February; snow covers all.

As the curtain rises, the scene is merged in the dim light of early
dawn. In front of a brazier are seated, in a group, snoring
custom-house officers. From the tavern at intervals one may hear
laughter, shouts, and the clink of glasses. A custom-house official
comes out of the tavern with wine. The toll-gate is closed.

Behind the toll-gate, stamping their feet and blowing in their
frost-bitten fingers, stand several street-scavengers._

SCAVENGERS. What ho, there! What ho, there! Admit us!
Make haste and let us pass,
The sweepers are we. (_stamping their feet_)
Look how it's snowing! What ho, there!
We are frozen!

AN OFFICIAL. (_yawning and stretching himself_) All right!

(_Goes to open the gate; the scavengers pass through to the Rue