"It was on the point of sliding off; it was worn like a hat over one
ear. The front of the house is gone. Only on the frame of one window
which sticks to the wall could I see your piece of pink curtain
which waves."

"My poor, pretty house!" she mused. "My first, you know," she said in an
undertone to Julien. "Ah, well, courage, as you say!"

"But you are very well here."

"True, but this isn't my vocation. I shall start again elsewhere. And
Verdun itself, Mademoiselle, can one live in it?"

"No, not yet. Perhaps never."

"Well, well...."

"Madame, we must move on again," interrupted Julien. "We have a long way
to go before night."

The woman rose, and turning to a drawer, pulled out a heap of soiled
papers, bills and letters. "Wait," she said, "wait an instant!"

Turning them over she sought and found a couple of old sheets pinned
together, and unpinning them she handed one to Fanny.

"It is the receipt for the cream," she said, "that I want to give you.
It is a good cream though I left the pot behind."

* * * * *