hand in the air. This hand, which spent so much of its time in pails of
blood, had brightly gleaming nails, and looked very rosy above his white
sleeve. Quenu had nodded his head in approbation, and an interval
of silence followed. Leon was still mincing. Pauline, however, after
remaining thoughtful for a little while, mounted upon Florent's feet
again, and in her clear voice exclaimed: "I say, cousin, tell me the
story of the gentleman who was eaten by the wild beasts!"

It was probably the mention of the pig's blood which had aroused in the
child's mind the recollection of "the gentleman who had been eaten by
the wild beasts." Florent did not at first understand what she referred
to, and asked her what gentleman she meant. Lisa began to smile.

"She wants you to tell her," she said, "the story of that unfortunate
man--you know whom I mean--which you told to Gavard one evening. She
must have heard you."

At this Florent grew very grave. The little girl got up, and taking the
big cat in her arms, placed it on his knees, saying that Mouton also
would like to hear the story. Mouton, however, leapt on to the table,
where, with rounded back, he remained contemplating the tall, scraggy
individual who for the last fortnight had apparently afforded him matter
for deep reflection. Pauline meantime began to grow impatient, stamping
her feet and insisting on hearing the story.

"Oh, tell her what she wants," said Lisa, as the child persisted and
became quite unbearable; "she'll leave us in peace then."

Florent remained silent for a moment longer, with his eyes turned
towards the floor. Then slowly raising his head he let his gaze rest