But the noise continued; I heard cries and oaths and blows. Women were calling for the police, the magistrate, and all the constituted authorities of the quarter; men were pushing and striking one another and throwing one another into the gutter. Windows were thrown open, and heads appeared enveloped in nightcaps; they listened and laughed and conversed from window to window, asking what the trouble was; but they refrained from going down into the street, because it is not prudent to meddle in a quarrel after dark.
The open windows and the faces surmounted by nightcaps reminded me of my little mishap on Rue des Rosiers. I no longer walked, but flew! fancying that I was pursued by fatality. But I heard someone running behind me; I turned into a street to the right; the footsteps followed me. At last I stopped to recover my breath, and in a moment my pursuer overtook me and grasped my arm.
III
THE FLOWER GIRL
“O monsieur! save me! take me with you! protect me from that horrible Beauvisage, who swore he’d take me away from anyone. Just hear how he’s beating Cadet Finemouche, who’s a good fighter himself! My sister was no fool; she skipped as soon as the fists began to play, and left me to carry the whole thing on my back; and perhaps she’ll go and tell my mother bad stories about me! I haven’t anybody but you to help me, monsieur; if you won’t, I’m a lost girl.”
While my waylayer recited her story, pausing only to wipe away the tears with the back of her hand, I looked at my new acquaintance and tried to distinguish her features by the dim light of a street lamp.
Her language and her dress speedily informed me what manner of person I had to deal with: a loose red gown, caught in at the waist with a black velvet scarf; a round cap with a broad lace border; a colored neckerchief, tied in front, with a large cross à la Jeannette resting upon it. Mistake in this instance was impossible: it was perfectly evident that I had before me a marchande à éventaire,[A] or one of those hucksters whose booths surround the cemetery of the Innocents.
[A] That is to say, a huckster, or peddler, who goes from place to place with her wares displayed on a tray hung from her shoulders.
My first thought was to see if she was pretty; I found that she was very good-looking indeed. Her eyes, although filled with tears, had a sincere, innocent expression which made her interesting at first sight; her little pout, her grieved air, were softened now and then by a smile addressed to me; and that smile, which the most accomplished coquette could not have made more attractive, disclosed two rows of the whitest teeth, unspoiled by enamel, coral, and all the powders of the perfumer.
However, despite my new acquaintance’s beauty, I was very reluctant to retain her arm, which she had passed through mine. Surely, with such charming features, she could not deal in fish or meat. I was morally certain that she sold flowers; but I did not choose to take a flower girl for my mistress; at the most, I might, if a favorable opportunity offered, indulge in a whim, a fancy. But I was not in luck that evening, and I did not propose to try any more experiments. I determined to rid myself of the girl.
As gently as possible, I detached the arm that was passed through mine; then I assumed a cold expression and said: