"Had you? Well, there are a great many by the Cathedral," Fanny answered cautiously, for she thought she knew the house that was meant.
"But my house looked out on the _citadelle_, and stood very high on a rock. Below it there was a drop and steep steps went down to a street below."
"Had you pink curtains in the upper windows?"
"Is it not then so damaged?" demanded the woman eagerly, dropping her smile. "The curtains are left? You can see the curtains?"
"No, no, it is terribly damaged. If it is the house you mean I found a piece of pink satin and a curtain ring under a brick, and there is a sad piece which still waves on a high window. But wait a minute, excuse me, I'll be back." She passed through the café and ran out to the car, returning in a moment with something in her hand.
"I fear I looted your house, madame," she said, offering her a small cylindrical pot made of coarse clouded glass, and half filled with a yellowish paste. "I found that inside on the ground floor; I don't know why I took it."
The woman held it in her hand. "Oh!" she wailed, and sliding down upon the sofa, found her handkerchief.
"_Mais non!_" said Julien, "you who have so much courage!"
"But it was my own _face_!" she cried incoherently, holding out the little pot. "My poor little cream pot!"
"I had not used it for a week because they had recommended me a new one. Ah! miraculous! that so small a thing should follow me!"
She touched her eyes carefully with her handkerchief, but a live tear had fallen on the waistcoat.
"Tell me, mademoiselle ... sit down beside me, my dear ... the poor little house is no more good to me? I couldn't live there? Is there a roof?"
"It was on the point of sliding off; it was worn like a hat over one ear. The front of the house is gone. Only on the frame of one window which sticks to the wall could I see your piece of pink curtain which waves."
"My poor, pretty house!" she mused. "My first, you know," she said in an undertone to Julien. "Ah, well, courage, as you say!"
"True, but this isn't my vocation. I shall start again elsewhere. And Verdun itself, Mademoiselle, can one live in it?"
"Madame, we must move on again," interrupted Julien. "We have a long way to go before night."