He drew a long, deep breath and entered the small shop.
It was dark coming in from the glare, but he made out Rosalie in her accustomed seat, only it seemed to him that she was huddled forward in an unusual manner.
"Why, Citoyenne!" he cried cheerfully, "I am back, you see."
Rosalie raised her head and stared at him, and she seemed to be coming back with difficulty from a great distance. As his eyes grew used to the change from the outer day he looked curiously at her face. There was something strange, it seemed to him, about the sunken eyes; they had lost the old shrewd look, and were dull and wavering. For a moment it occurred to him that she had been drinking; then the heavy glance changed, brightening into recognition.
"You, Citizen?" she said, with a sort of dull surprise.
"Myself, and very glad to be back."
"You are well, Citizen?"
"And you, I fear, suffering?"
Rosalie pulled herself together.
"No, no," she protested, "I am well too, quite well. It is only that the days are dull when there is no spectacle, and I sit there and think, and count the heads, and wonder if it hurt them much; and then it makes my own head ache, and I become stupid."