“Françoise!” he shrieked.

She looked intently at him, and softly, softly moved her lips, hardly letting the words escape:

“So you are Celestin!”

They did not stir, but remained as though benumbed, gazing into each other’s eyes.

Around them the others shouted with drunken voices. The ringing of glasses, the beating of hands and heels, and the piercing screams of women, intermingled with the singing and the shouting.

“How can it have happened?” said he, so gently that even she could hardly catch the words.

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears.