she never visited that neighbourhood because it was too far way.

"Too far from Monte Allegro?" I queried.

"Why, no!" she replied. "Too far from the Avenue des Champs Elysees,
where we live."

And she murmured over again, as if talking to herself, "Too far!--too
far!" in a tone of reverie which I could not possibly account for.
All at once she smiled again, and said to me,

"I like you, Monsieur Bonnard!--I like you very, very much!"

The mules had been harnessed. The young woman hastily picked up a
few oranges which had rolled off her lap; rose up; looked at me,
and burst out laughing.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "how I should like to see you grappling with the
brigands! You would say such extraordinary things to them!...
Please take my hat, and hold my umbrella for me, Monsieur Bonnard."

"What a strange little mind!" I thought to myself, as I followed
her. "It could only have been in a moment of inexcusable
thoughtlessness that Nature gave a child to such a giddy little
woman!"



Girgenti. Same day.