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There is a newcomer tonight. (I am talking to the agent de service.) She is of a youth and she is certainly from Brittany. I see her sitting in a corner, waiting for something, trying to know. “She will learn,” says my friend, “She will learn to pay like the others.” That is the gros Pierre who regards her. He twirls his moustache and considers, and in the end he lumbers to her and asks her to dance. She is willing to do so, but the intensity of Pierre frightens her, frightens and intrigues…. There is a sign on the wall that one must not stamp one’s feet, but no other prohibition…. He twists her finger purposely as they whirl … and whirl. She cowers. Gros Pierre is very big and strong. ” T’es bath, mome,” I hear him say, as they pass me by…. The dance over, he towers above her for a brief second before he swaggers out…. Estelle smiles. Her lips move and she speaks quickly to Edouard, le petit…. He does not listen. Why should he listen to his gigolette ? She is wasting her time here anyway. He becomes impatient…. Carmella smiles across the room in a brief second of chance and Estelle answers the smile. Carmella holds up three fingers (it is now 1.30). Estelle nods her head quickly. The musicians are always playing, except in the middle of the dance when madame, la patronne, gathers in the sous…. Only from one she takes nothing…. He is twenty and very blonde and he is dancing with Madame…. Between dances she pays his consommations…. Estelle rises slowly and walks out while Carmella, l’Arabe, follows her with his eyes. Edouard, le petit, lights a Maryland and poises a louis between his thumb and fore-finger, the nails of which are long and dirty…. The music is always playing…. The little girl from Brittany is again alone in the corner. There is fear in her face. She is beginning to know. She summons her courage and walks to the door, on through…. The agent de service twirls his moustache and points after her. “She soon will know.” I follow. She hesitates for a second at the street door and then starts towards the corner…. She reaches the corner and passes around it…. I hear a scream … the sound of running footsteps … the beat of a horse’s hoofs … the rolling of wheels on the cobble stones….

November 11, 1915.