The exclamation burst from him involuntarily. He sat quite still for some minutes, regarding her very curiously. All about them was the life of Strasburg, the music of the bands, the glare of the lamps before the cafés, the buzz of tongues, and the rumbling wheels. The man saw nothing of this life. He had eyes only for his little companion, who had just told him that she was Madame Hélène’s granddaughter. She, in her turn, sat wondering at his astonishment.
“You do not know Madame Hélène?” she asked presently, for he continued to let the pony stand.
“Know her, child—how should I know her?”
“You are a stranger to Strasburg, then?”
He laughed hardly.
“An utter stranger.”
The words seemed to please him. He repeated them as though in emphasis.
“An utter stranger, young lady—without a home anywhere.”
A great idea, one of pity for his loneliness, came to her. She could not account for her friendship, yet friendship she gave to this rugged acquaintance instinctively.
“If you would come to the Place Kleber, they would be very grateful to you,” she said. “I am sure Madame Hélène would like to thank you herself.”