every law, human and divine.  At every cudgelling bestowed on the wooden heads the pitiless audience went into shrieks of laughter; and the sharp thrusts delivered by the puppets at each other’s breasts, the duels in which they beat a tattoo on one another’s skulls as though they were empty pumpkins, the awful havoc of legs and arms, reducing the characters to a jelly, served to increase the roars of laughter which rang out from all sides.  But the climax of enjoyment was reached when Punch sawed off the policeman’s head on the edge of the stage; an operation provocative of such hysterical mirth that the rows of juveniles were plunged into confusion, swaying to and fro with glee till they all but fell on one another.  One tiny girl, but four years old, all pink and white, considered the spectacle so entrancing that she pressed her little hands devoutly to her heart.  Others burst into applause, while the boys laughed, with mouths agape, their deeper voices mingling with the shrill peals from the girls.

“How amused they are!” whispered the doctor.  He had returned to his place near Helene.  She was in high spirits like the children.  Behind her, he sat inhaling the intoxicating perfume which came from her hair.  And as one puppet on the stage dealt another an exceptionally hard knock she turned to him and exclaimed:  “Do you know, it is awfully funny!”

The youngsters, crazy with excitement, were now interfering with the action of the drama.  They were giving answers to the various characters.  One young lady, who must have been well up in the plot, was busy explaining what would next happen.

“He’ll beat his wife to death in a minute!  Now they are going to hang him!”

The youngest of the Levasseur girls, who was two years old, shrieked out all at once: 

“Mamma, mamma, will they put him on bread and water?”

All sorts of exclamations and reflections followed.  Meanwhile Helene, gazing into the crowd of children, remarked:  “I cannot see Jeanne.  Is she enjoying herself?”

Then the doctor bent forward, with head perilously near her own, and whispered:  “There she is, between that harlequin and the Norman peasant maiden!  You can see the pins gleaming in her hair.  She is laughing very heartily.”

He still leaned towards her, her cool breath playing on his cheek.  Till now no confession had escaped them; preserving silence, their intimacy had only been marred for a few days past by a vague sensation of discomfort.  But amidst these bursts of happy laughter, gazing upon the little folks before her, Helene became once more, in sooth, a very child, surrendering herself to her feelings, while Henri’s breath beat warm upon her neck.  The whacks from the cudgel, now louder than ever, filled her with a quiver which inflated her bosom, and she turned towards him with sparkling eyes.

“Good heavens! what nonsense it all is!” she said each time.  “See how they hit one another!”