Two banks of the Seine

en someone knocked at her door. Her maid opened it just enough to allow one

am for

.. quick!" Mme.

dress, but left it and hu

trembling fingers and read rapidly

morning,

we would lunch together in our little nest. I pledged myself to the Mathays a week ago. Thank Heaven, I remembered i

eaded pins and carefully pinned them on her broad-winged cravat. She found it growing too hard

s, Anna! Bring me

ing out?" the maid prote

sage on a chair and feverishl

m not go

"Yes.... No...." Zozé stammered out. "Tell her

well,

oft gown with pink ribbons. Mme. Chambannes slipped int

no

bannes dropped into a littl

Mathay woman Gerald had not even hesitated. Yet he must have foreseen how it would hurt her,

pretty nonsense, fashioning his glances to hers and using his big eyes to offer himself. The lunch was perhaps ending, they were going into the hall to drink their coffee! Who knew? Mathay might be going out, leaving them a

r, far away. Her nails caught at her gown where it was beating against the armor of her corset.

ttings. There was the studio of Mazuccio, the little sculptor, the flat of Burzig or that of Pums, the husband of her friend Flora. They were all eager to welcome her; all would receive h

the arms of any of them, a shiver of repulsion caused her to shake her head. Phew! She would require too much courage for her spite to make her lower herself to that extent! Moreover, it migh

r. Her muscles pained her as i

the near presence of some mothering friend who could understand and pity her, in whom she could confide and who would weep with her. Yet she had none! Alas, neither Flora Pums, nor Rose Silberschmidt, nor Germaine de Marquesse, h

to sobb

was only a poor exotic flower, planted near the surface of an alien land and the short roots she had taken gave way at the slightest storm as if they were mere threads! There was no help for her in her distress! She had not even the solace of a trust in Heaven, of a refuge in God, since she had be

ssed, O

r, Mother, my aunt and my uncle and not to let Fath

bered her father, dead these seven years, her good ol

remained obscure and inexplicable to his intimate

was on the eve of touching it when he met with his first smash. His liabilities amounted to twice his assets. He disappeared discreetly for a few weeks. Then he came back. He was active, cordial, and ingenuous and rapidly built himself up a new credit and a new clientele. His activities had now assumed a nobler aim, that of paying his debts. During the next two years he was most regular in paying sums on account. At the end of that time, there was left only an amount of 300,000 francs for him to pay. He lost patience, however, gambled once more to liberat

d father should, assured befor

r origin as M. Mouzarkhi himself. Both had an undefinable accent which suggested all in one the Spanish, the Hungarian and the Moldo-Vallach languages. Panhias, modest and reserved, acted as confidential clerk in his brother-in-la business house. Mme. Panhias watched with faithful care over the education of the little girl; she took her to her lessons during the day and sat up with her in t

ey gave M. Mouzarkhi the character of a man personally popular among his colleagues but with a credit that was doubtful and often weak. As to George Chambannes, the son of a little doctor in the province of Berri, himself an ex-student of the école Centrale, they made him out to be an engineer of talent, industrious and daring, but one who had, so f

ious matters, declared it would be contrary to his principles, as an "Old Republican" and a positivist. In truth, Zozé would have had to exhibit a baptismal certificate; M. Mouzarkhi had neglected to provide her with one; the need to obtain one now would further delay the marriage. Thus they were married at the city hall. The whole of the Petite Bourse flocked to the place; there we

spent the whole amount in the course of the n

handsome, a spendthrift, and with no visible profession or resources. Discredit is like glory; it has its own legends which everyone, out of spite or stupidity, wishes to credit. Zozé was not alarmed at his spending his nights in gambling houses, leaving his own bed untouched, or at his seeming peevish. She had never known what

fter women that she modified her existence. The change was hardly p

ust turned three and twenty-and sported a thin brown mustache that seemed drawn with a pencil; yet Demetrius was already racing up on the footsteps of his Uncle Mouza

arm lay on the folded hood, like that of a rich capitalist stretching himself out. The brass on the

of his ardor to two or three intimate friends who drew comparisons with their own lovers. She initiated him into the attraction

r another two, out of kindness, she thought, albeit it was really out o

had to safeguard her honor. Demetrius wept bitterly and roared out his sorrow in words so harsh sounding that one might have thought it the cry of a stricken lion. Zozé felt remorseful during a wh

evening dress, with a white bow and carnations in his buttonhole; leaning on the front seat of a

; Lastours, her new lover, ha

funny as a low comedian and carried about him a vague perfume of something beyond, an aristocratic vapor which seemed to float above his square shoulders. Listening to him, Zozé felt nearer the world of fashion. He was to her the higher step on the social ladder; merely to see that step was as good as believing she was on it and she clung to it with delight. She admired, as if they stood for the finest wit, his studio gossip, his prankish school ditties and th

perated the unhappy woman and acted

intuition, Zozé gave herself the melancholy reply: They were often less beautiful, that was true, but they were Parisiennes; they were well read and resolute; they operated upon their native soil, while

g a banal, instinctive strategy, she gave herself to one of his friends-also a painter and one

ime with women. It was business before anything else with him. For the sake of a prospective sale, a meeting with a client or a patro call, he would dismiss Zozé or put off her visit without hesitation. On

that he forgot to deliver his prisoner. He only opened the door when he heard her cries; and when he op

ed with Montiers, and with fashionable painters, and inde

tiful women, could prove themselves so mean upon intimacy? Why should she keep up these casual liaisons, expose herself to

lack in order to be the

ay he had hired a carriage by the month for her. His affairs were at last taking a better turn. He was gradually paying off his bills and

of it to her friends and declared that the age of folly had passed for her. In order to fil

etry and travel books merely whetted her appetite. "I am devouring them!" she would say. And in point of fact, t

neglected was painting; she never went to the Salon, out of spite for the painters. However, no light of understanding pierced through this chaos of contrary studies. Mme. Chambannes was surprised that, having learned

the next two yea

light: herself invariably one of them; while the other was this one or that one, names and features forgotten, or confusedly mixed up under the stamp of time. There had been flirtations at dances, some mild drives in closed carriages, unfinished kisses, mere sketches of self-giving, several vain attempts to reach the ideal and many false hopes and shattered illusions. How could she have felt any affection for those men, those German ba

t guided solely b

isite portrait. But the imagination of many women acts as their body does. It can reproduce but not create

mes the moist shadow of an old sorrow; he would also have an income of 30,000 or 40,000 francs

what bitter experiences he had undergone. From his lips would surge blasphemies against the perfidious sex, ma enemy. Thereupon Mme. Chambannes would tenderly stop the anathemas with her kisses; she would lay that sorrowful head upon her breast and bring smiles back to those defiant lips. If necessary,

him; down to an imaginary list of dresses and things which she would hurriedly pile up in a wic

his way, but

he wore no beard, he had no languorous airs and no spite against a

Meuze, of the Poitou branch of the Meuzes. George

uil races. It was a quiet Thursday, almost a

ing, soon left them alone to look after his b

dock, lost his way with her behind the buildings on the broad green

with her head bent forward, her eyes aimlessly watching the tips of her shiny patent leather shoes sliding on the grass. At last the longed-for lover had come! She had got hold of him! No power could have dissuaded he

ted had she heard what was being said of her in the exclusiv

e that. Probably a little woman from some sunny, hot land, whom that rascal de Meuze made feel warmer still, in order to tease the baroness.... Why, yes ... the Barone

zé was no less real i

caste: demi-mondaines, actresses or plain bourgeoises. Yet, apart from that disdain, their verdict was a favorable one. They found the strange woman nice, her

? She saw no one in the whole crowd but Gerald, her true mate, her lover to be. She walke

ady her master. He wanted to see her again, to possess her, the very next day. She remembered his ardent

orrow? Oh! pleas

low movement of her head, while her eye

had to make him gain her instead of abandoning herself to him. A voice within her dictated this unusual reserve to

at the moment when he had grown discouraged and

at she wanted, with that superhuman cunning which women oft

the 30th cuirassiers. From the disaster his father had saved him a yearly income of about 40,000 francs. She learned also the names of the people of his set; heard of many of his liaisons,

drawn her plans. Two methods were possi

here he would find no difficulty in introducing and imposing her. She could thus kn

way from this set of which he affected to be tired and afford him, i

n "adjourned" in two sporting clubs. The committees of those clubs, more rigorous in their verdicts than a Council of Ministers, had successively denied the white balls of their assent to a man upon whom the Gov

nd even artists, when she had conquered her own repugnance for them. Thus, gradually she established for his evenings, as a supplement to their afternoon meetings elsewhere, a composite but sympathetic salon,

tered by the visitors, servilely obeyed by Mme. Chambannes who rejoiced in, and was thankful for, the love at last acquired and conquered, the love unique forever, and more than legitimate, since it was even romantic and glorious!... Then came one evening

y! Every day she still had to use her craft and stratagems in order to ke

lessly at the iridescent foam that the sugar sent up to the top of her coffe

out? May I get Ma

annes was

he time?"

two lock

k and sat there all that time, not knowing what she was doing,

y, she

Give me my blue dress..

, from the trees in the park, at the end of her street, from the street pavement and from the asphalt on the sidewalks; even men and horses that passed by

e. Chambannes dreamt. To love Gerald, all kinds of weather seemed propi

about at the Mathays', in the drawing-room darkened by the fog? Na?vely, she let the curtains down again, as if she feared to

o pay, of dressmakers and modistes. Then all at once

oted and venerable pillar of her salon; why should she waste time, why not seize the opportunity? Tuesday was Mme. Rainda day. Again, there was

under her arm, she was fastening her gloves outsi