drivers whipped up their spirited little horses, and the vehicles went
off at a breakneck pace, amidst the shouts of those left behind, and the
splashing of the mire.

In presence of that rushing torrent, Madame Vincent, with her dear little
burden in her arms, hesitated to cross over. Bursts of laughter rang out
around her every now and then. Oh! what a filthy mess! And at sight of
all the mud, the women caught up their skirts before attempting to pass
through it. At last, when the courtyard had somewhat emptied, Madame
Vincent herself ventured on her way, all terror lest the mire should make
her fall in that black darkness. Then, on reaching a downhill road, she
noticed there a number of women of the locality who were on the watch,
offering furnished rooms, bed and board, according to the state of the
pilgrim's purse.

"Which is the way to the Grotto, madame, if you please?" asked Madame
Vincent, addressing one old woman of the party.

Instead of answering the question, however, the other offered her a cheap
room. "You won't find anything in the hotels," said she, "for they are
all full. Perhaps you will be able to eat there, but you certainly won't
find a closet even to sleep in."

Eat, sleep, indeed! Had Madame Vincent any thought of such things; she
who had left Paris with thirty sous in her pocket, all that remained to
her after the expenses she had been put to!

"The way to the Grotto, if you please, madame?" she repeated.

Among the women who were thus touting for lodgers, there was a tall,