In the meantime their receipts had not been large, and hard times had come to the wandering comedians.

The money received from the Marquis de Bruyeres had all been spent, as well as the modest sum in de Sigognac's purse-who had contributed all that he possessed to the common fund, in spite of the protestations of his comrades in distress.

The chariot was drawn now by a single horse-instead of the four with which they had set off so triumphantly from the Chateau de Bruyeres--and such a horse! a miserable, old, broken-down hack, whose ribs were so prominent that he looked as if he lived upon barrel-hoops instead of oats and hay; his lack-lustre eyes, drooping head, halting gait, and panting breath combined to make him a most pitiable object, and he plodded on at a snail's pace, looking as if he might drop down dead on the road at any moment.

Only the three women were in the chariot--the men all walking, so as to relieve their poor, jaded beast as much as possible.

The weather was bitterly cold, and they wrapped their cloaks about them and strode on in silence, absorbed in their own melancholy thoughts.
Poor de Sigognac, well-nigh discouraged, asked himself despondingly whether it would not have been better for him to have remained in the dilapidated home of his fathers, even at the risk of starving to death there in silence and seclusion, than run the risk of such hardships in company with these Bohemians.