When the sun was well up the women who had been at mass gathered down by the little river which runs through the old city, to wash their clothes.

They knelt on the broad stones by the edge of the water, chattering and singing, tossing the soap from one to another.
There was a sudden silence.

"Here she is again," they whispered, as a slight, delicate woman crossed the bridge with steady steps.
"She is blind and deaf," said old Barbe.

"I met her an hour ago and asked her whom she sought.

She did not see nor hear me, but walked straight on." Oliver Bauzy was lounging near, as usual, watching his wife work.
"She is English.