"Little girl," he said sadly, hardly knowing that he spoke.
"I cannot save myself: how can I save you ?" "Pouf!" she cried.

"Save! What do you mean ?" She drew herself up with an absurd gesture.

"You think me a bad girl?
No, I am not bad; I go to church.

Le bon Dieu made us as we are; it is necessaire." They stood before each other, a strange pair, the product of a strange age.

God knows what the angels made of it.