flowers. In those days now gone, women still wore hats to protect from the sun. The dress alone of the young woman indicated her indifference to surroundings. She seemed unaware of any attention she was exciting among the passers, and stooping to the level of the object she wanted, called, in the gentlest voice of reproach: "Come on, you little fool!"
There are certain conventional traditions, which do not please me. They hamper men at every turn in their most natural, and often noblest impulses. "This or that is not done," is a despotic phrase, invented by no one knows who, but obeyed unversally, no one knows why. There are hundreds of insignificant prejudices which could be abolished in three days, of which everybody complains, and nobody resists. One of them is this: in the public thoroughfares you cannot go to the aid of a person in a ridiculous situation, without running the risk of becoming ridiculous yourself. It is incredible that in France we should need the opinion of others to be natural ourselves. Often a man or a woman, even a pretty woman, is seen in an embarrassing position and could be extricated by one word, which nobody will speak, or a gesture which no one will make, because they are in the open street. If finally some good Samaritan decides to go to the rescue and relieve the predicament, he turns pale or blushes, almost appeals for approval, then hurries away as soon as possible.
The kid was unwary, and I could easily take him in my arms and carry him to his mistress. It was very simple to do. Why had nobody done it before?
I was thanked with a beautiful courtesy, as I bowed and was about to retire, when with a glance at the young woman, I exclaimed; "Why, is it you?"
To this involuntary remark she ungrammatically replied, "Yes, it is me."
"I had not recognized you."
"I knew you at once."
