[CHAPTER IX.]
THE JOYOUS END OF JOY.
The girls, when left alone, leaned out of the windows, two by two, talking, looking out, and wondering. They watched the young men leave the Bombarda cabaret arm in arm; they turned round, made laughing signs, and disappeared in that dusty Sunday mob which once a week invaded the Champs Élysées.
"Do not be long," Fantine cried.
"What will they bring us?" said Zéphine.
"I am certain it will be pretty," said Dahlia.
"For my part," Favourite added, "I hope it will be set in gold."
They were soon distracted by the movement on the quay, which they could notice through the branches of the lofty trees, and which greatly amused them. It was the hour for the mail-carts and stages to start, and nearly all those bound for the South and West at that time passed through the Champs Élysées. Most of them followed the quay and went out by the Passy barrier. Every moment some heavy vehicle, painted yellow and black, heavily loaded and rendered shapeless by trunks and valises, dashed through the crowd with the sparks of a forge, the dust representing the smoke. This confusion amused the girls.
"What a racket!" exclaimed Favourite; "one might say a pile of chairs was flying about."