"You mustn't stop here," she said to him, "or you'll get run over and
killed. Where were you going?"

"I don't know," replied the man in a faint voice.

Then, with an effort and an anxious expression, he added: "I was going
to Paris; I fell down, and don't remember any more."

Madame Francois could now see him more distinctly, and he was truly a
pitiable object, with his ragged black coat and trousers, through the
rents in which you could espy his scraggy limbs. Underneath a black
cloth cap, which was drawn low over his brows, as though he were afraid
of being recognised, could be seen two large brown eyes, gleaming with
peculiar softness in his otherwise stern and harassed countenance. It
seemed to Madame Francois that he was in far too famished a condition to
have got drunk.

"And what part of Paris were you going to?" she continued.

The man did not reply immediately. This questioning seemed to distress
him. He appeared to be thinking the matter over, but at last said
hesitatingly, "Over yonder, towards the markets."

He had now, with great difficulty, got to his feet again, and seemed
anxious to resume his journey. But Madame Francois noticed that he
tottered, and clung for support to one of the shafts of her waggon.

"Are you tired?" she asked him.