"Yes, very tired," he replied.

Then she suddenly assumed a grumpy tone, as though displeased, and,
giving him a push, exclaimed: "Look sharp, then, and climb into my cart.
You've made us lose a lot of time. I'm going to the markets, and I'll
turn you out there with my vegetables."

Then, as the man seemed inclined to refuse her offer, she pushed him up
with her stout arms, and bundled him down upon the turnips and carrots.

"Come, now, don't give us any more trouble," she cried angrily. "You are
quite enough to provoke one, my good fellow. Don't I tell you that
I'm going to the markets? Sleep away up there. I'll wake you when we
arrive."

She herself then clambered into the cart again, and settled herself with
her back against the board, grasping the reins of Balthazar, who started
off drowsily, swaying his ears once more. The other waggons followed,
and the procession resumed its lazy march through the darkness, whilst
the rhythmical jolting of the wheels again awoke the echoes of the
sleepy house fronts, and the waggoners, wrapped in their cloaks, dozed
off afresh. The one who had called to Madame Francois growled out as he
lay down: "As if we'd nothing better to do than pick up every drunken
sot we come across! You're a scorcher, old woman!"

The waggons rumbled on, and the horses picked their own way, with
drooping heads. The stranger whom Madame Francois had befriended was
lying on his stomach, with his long legs lost amongst the turnips which
filled the back part of the cart, whilst his face was buried amidst the
spreading piles of carrot bunches. With weary, extended arms he clutched