it."

"_I_ know it?"

"Come and drink this little glass of my wine, mademoiselle," said the
red-haired woman good-humouredly, "and tell me about my poor little
house. I had a house on the crown of the hill ... with a good view
... and a good situation (she laughed) by the Cathedral."

"Had you? Well, there are a great many by the Cathedral," Fanny answered
cautiously, for she thought she knew the house that was meant.

"But my house looked out on the _citadelle_, and stood very high on a
rock. Below it there was a drop and steep steps went down to a street
below."

"Had you pink curtains in the upper windows?"

"Is it not then so damaged?" demanded the woman eagerly, dropping her
smile. "The curtains are left? You can see the curtains?"

"No, no, it is terribly damaged. If it is the house you mean I found a
piece of pink satin and a curtain ring under a brick, and there is a sad
piece which still waves on a high window. But wait a minute, excuse me,
I'll be back." She passed through the cafe and ran out to the car,
returning in a moment with something in her hand.

"I fear I looted your house, madame," she said, offering her a small
cylindrical pot made of coarse clouded glass, and half filled with a
yellowish paste. "I found that inside on the ground floor; I don't know