Flee, Ferragut!....

Leave me alone....
Alone!" And the image of the immense barrenness of her lonely future made the tears gush from her eyes.
The music had ceased.

A motionless waiter was pretending to look far away, while really listening to their conversation.

The two Englishmen had interrupted their painting in order to glare at this _gentleman_ who was making a lady weep.

The sailor began to feel the nervous disquietude which a difficult situation creates.
"Ferragut, pay and let us go," she said, divining his state of mind.
While Ulysses was giving money to the waiters and musicians, she dried her eyes and repaired the ravages to her complexion, drawing from her gold-mesh bag a powder puff and little mirror in whose oval she contemplated herself for a long time.
As they passed out, the oysterman turned his back, pretending to be very much occupied in the arrangement of the lemons that were adorning his stand.