But when he recognized Madame Martin, he smiled so sweetly and said good-morning to her in so caressing a voice that nothing was left of the ferocious old vagabond walking on the quay, nothing except the old carpet-bag, the handles of which were half broken.
He placed it in the rack with great care, among the elegant bags enveloped with gray cloth, beside which it looked conspicuously sordid.
It was studded with yellow flowers on a blood-colored background.
He was soon perfectly at ease, and complimented Madame Martin on the elegance of her travelling attire.
"Excuse me, ladies," he added, "I was afraid I should be late.

I went to six o'clock mass at Saint Severin, my parish, in the Virgin Chapel, under those pretty, but absurd columns that point toward heaven though frail as reeds-like us, poor sinners that we are." "Ah," said Madame Martin, "you are pious to-day." And she asked him whether he wore the cordon of the order which he was founding.

He assumed a grave and penitent air.
"I am afraid, Madame, that Monsieur Paul Vence has told you many absurd stories about me.

I have heard that he goes about circulating rumors that my ribbon is a bell-rope--and of what a bell! I should be pained if anybody believed so wretched a story.

My ribbon, Madame, is a symbolical ribbon.