The frail, hungry woman who stood before the great doors clutched her wretched shawl closer about her thin shoulders. Her teeth chattered as she stood shivering in the chill wind. Then she hurried away.
At the corner of the building the cold blast almost swept her off her feet. A man, dirty and unkempt, who had been waiting in an alley, ran out and seized her.
“I say, Jude, ain’t ye goin’ in? Git arrested––ye’d spend the night in a warm cell, an’ that’s better’n our bunk, ain’t it?”
“I’m goin’ to French Lucy’s,” the woman whispered hoarsely. “I’m dead beat!”
“Huh! Ye’ve lost yer looks, Jude, an’ ol’ Lucy ain’t a-goin’ to take ye in. We gotta snipe somepin quick––or starve! Look, we’ll go down to Mike’s place, an’ then come back here when it’s out, and ye kin pinch a string, or somepin, eh? Gawd, it’s cold!”
The woman glanced back at the lights. For a moment she stood listening to the music from within. A sob shook her, and she began to cough violently. The man took her arm, not unkindly; and together they moved away into the night.
“Well, little girl, at last we are alone. Now we can exchange confidences.” It was Ames talking. He had, late in 136 the evening, secured seats well hidden behind a mass of palms, and thither had led Carmen. “What do you think of it all? Quite a show, eh? Ever see anything like this in Simití?”
Carmen looked up at him. She thought him wonderfully handsome. She was glad to get away for a moment from the crowd, from the confusion, and from the unwelcome attentions of the now thoroughly smitten young Duke of Altern.
“No,” she finally made answer, “I didn’t know there were such things in the world.”