Then Jeanne sits down on a bench with Pierrot in her arms.
"But come, come. You must not mind, Pierrot, if they do not love you. You must not mind if they throw you aside and clap for Guignol. See! I love you very much. And even if you do wear shabby clothes and your paint is dull, that does not matter."
Jeanne rocks the Pierrot. It grows dark in the Champs Elysées.
"You must not mind. See, Pierrot!" she says. "See my dress and coat and cap? They are as shabby as yours. But I do not mind. You see, we are both the same. But I feel sorry because you do not dance more and because you are never the hero of the plays. Guignol is an awkward, clumsy fellow. It is you who are my hero, Pierrot."
As she talks, Jeanne's voice grows soft and drowsy. Jeanne's head nods, and her eyes close. A soft breeze begins to stir in the trees. Jeanne is asleep.
CHAPTER IX
AN ADVENTURE IN THE BOIS
Jeanne and Pierrot were walking through the Bois de Boulogne (bwä´ dẽ bo͞o´-lōn´). That is a beautiful wood in Paris where children and grown people play and walk and go boating on silvery lakes.
