"Soho! Only mistaken your way? And how come harmless people to be abroad
at this time of night, groping about among the vaults of Les Arènes?"

Before there was time to answer, a tall, lean man in black, with a
bottle in his hand, which he had just removed from his lips, came
forward from a corner, and said. "Hold, there, enough has been said.
I know this young man, and, I dare say, this young maiden. We are
very good friends. Don't you remember me?" looking sharply at me.

"Not exactly," said I, straining my memory.

"Oh, come, don't deny it. Last time you had the best of it; this time
I have. Don't you remember the Fair of Beaucaire?"

"Yes, of course, sir," said Madeleine, readily, "and your beautiful
needles and pins and pretty equipage."

The needle-vender looked pleased, and said, "You have a better memory
than the young fellow; however, I owe him a good turn. You saved me from
the hoofs of le Docteur Jameray's horse, and lent me your handkerchief.
I have had it in keeping for you ever since," drawing it from his
breast. Then, turning to his companions, he said, "Excuse me; I attend
these young persons a little way. They are friends, and the young man
is ill."

In fact, my head swam round, and I swooned again, and have no
remembrance but of a confused babble of sounds. When I came to,
Madeleine and the needle-seller, whose name was La Croissette, were
conveying me between them; or, in fact, he was chiefly carrying me, and
she supporting my feet. I said, "Set me down, I'll try to walk," but