"Never. I paid for a bath, had my hair cut and my face shaved, bought a shirt and collar, and then went back to the restaurant where I had washed dishes the night before, and the head waiter served me. After that it was easy; the next week it was ten dollars; then in a few years I had a place of my own; then came madame and Lucette—and here we are."
The twilight had faded into a velvet blue, sprinkled with stars. The lantern which madame had hung against the arbor shed a yellow light, throwing into clear relief the sharply cut features of monsieur. Up and down the silent stream drifted here and there a phantom boat, the gleam of its light following like a firefly. From some came no sound but the muffled plash of the oars. From others floated stray bits of song and laughter. Far up the stream I heard the distant whistle of the down train.
"It is mine, monsieur. Will you cross with me, and bring back the boat?"
Monsieur unhooked the lantern, and I followed through the garden and down the terrace steps.
At the water's edge was a bench holding two figures.
Monsieur turned his lantern, and the light fell upon the face of young François.
When the bow grated on the opposite bank I shook his hand, and said, in parting, pointing to the lovers,—
"The same old story, Monsieur?"
"Yes; and always new. You must come to the church."