When Gerard had executed this order, and returned, he found
Berthaud laughing and joking with Raymonde. She went off on her errand,
however, and the two men stood watching her while she made the paralysed
woman drink.
"She is charming, and it's settled, eh?" said Berthaud. "You are going to
marry her, aren't you?"
"I shall ask her mother to-night. I rely upon you to accompany me."
"Why, certainly. You know what I told you. Nothing could be more
sensible. The uncle will find you a berth before six months are over."
A push of the crowd separated them, and Berthaud went off to make sure
whether the march through the Grotto was now being accomplished in a
methodical manner, without any crushing. For hours the same unbroken tide
rolled in--women, men, and children from all parts of the world, all who
chose, all who passed that way. As a result, the crowd was singularly
mixed: there were beggars in rags beside neat /bourgeois/, peasants of
either sex, well dressed ladies, servants with bare hair, young girls
with bare feet, and others with pomatumed hair and foreheads bound with
ribbons.
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