"No."
"Eh! You must have a lover?"
Folle-Farine's lips grew whiter, and she shrunk a little; but she answered steadily,—
"No."
"No! And at your age; and handsome as a ripe, red apple,—with your skin of satin, and your tangle of hair! Fie, for shame! Are the men blind? Where do you rest to-night?"
"I am going on—south."
"And mean to walk all night? Pooh! Come home with me, and sup and sleep. I live hard by, just inside the walls."
Folle-Farine opened her great eyes wide. It was the first creature who had ever offered her hospitality. It was an old woman, too; there could be nothing but kindness in the offer, she thought; and kindness was so strange to her, that it troubled her more than did cruelty.
"You are good," she said, gratefully,—"very good; but I cannot come."
"Cannot come? Why, then?"