'GOOD evening, my dear Gaston, ' Marguerite said to my companion, ' I'm so glad to see you. Why didn't you come to my box at the Varietes?'

'I was afraid of being indiscreet.'

'Friends, ' and Marguerite stressed the word, as though she wish to let it be known to all who were present that, despite the familiar way in which she greeted him, Gaston was not and had never been anything other than a friend, 'friends can never be indiscreet.'

'In that case, allow me to present Monsieur Armand Duval!'

'I've already given Prudence leave to do so.'

'I should perhaps say, madame, ' I said, bowing and managing to make more or less intelligible sounds, 'I have already had the honour of being introduced to you.'

Marguerite's delightful eyes seemed to be searching among her memories, but she did not remember, or appeared not to remember.

'Madame, ' I went on, 'I am grateful that you have forgotten that first meeting, for I behaved quite ridiculously and must surely have seemed very tiresome to you. It was two years ago, at the Opera-Comique; I was with Ernest de.'

'Ah! Now I remember!' Marguerite went on with a smile. 'It wasn't that you were ridiculous, but I who was a tease. As I still am rather, though less so nowadays. Have you forgiven me?'

And she held out her hand which I kissed.

'It's true, ' she continued. 'The fact is that I have this awful habit of wanting to embarrass people I see for the first time. It's very silly. My doctor says it's because I am highlystrung and always unwell: you must take my doctor's word for it.'

'But you look extremely well.'

'Oh! I've been very ill.'

'I know.'

'Who told you?'

'Everyone knew. I often used to come to find out how you were, and I was very happy to learn of your convalescence.'

'No one ever brought me your card.'

'I never left one.'

'Are you the young man who called every day to ask after me all the time I was ill, and would never leave his name?'

'I am.'

'Then you are more than kind, you are generous. You, Count, would never have done that, ' she added, turning to Monsieur de N but not before giving me one of those looks with which women let you know what they think of a man.

'I have known you for only two months, ' replied the Count.

'And this gentleman has known me for only five minutes. You always give the silliest answers.'

Women are pitiless with people they dislike.

The Count reddened and bit his lip.

I felt sorry for him, for he seemed just as much in love as I was, and Marguerite's callous frankness must have made him very wretched, especially in the presence of two strangers.

'You were playing something when we arrived, ' I then said, to change the subject.

'Won't you give me the pleasure of treating me like an old friend, and continue?'

'Oh!' she said, settling on to the sofa and gesturing to us to sit down beside her, 'Gaston knows exactly what my playing is like. It's all very well when I'm alone with the Count, but I shouldn't wish to put you through such torture.'

'So you do favour me in this respect?' replied Monsieur de N, with a smile intended to be subtle and ironic.

'You are quite wrong to reproach me for doing so. It's the only time I ever favour you in anything.'

It was clear that the poor fellow could not say anything right. He gave the young woman a truly beseeching look.

'Tell me, Prudence, ' she continued, 'did you do what I asked?'

'Yes.'

'Good, you shall tell me all about it later. We have things to talk about, so you mustn't go until I've spoken to you.'

'I think we are intruding, ' I said at this point, 'and now that we ?or rather I ?have managed a second introduction to expunge the memory of the first, Gaston and I will withdraw.'

'I won't hear of it; what I said wasn't intended for you. On the contrary, I'd like you to stay.'

The Count took out an extremely handsome watch which he consulted:

'Time I was going to the club, ' he said.

Marguerite did not reply to this.

The Count then moved away from the mantelpiece and, coming up to her:

'Good-bye, madame.'

Marguerite rose to her feet.

'Good-bye, my dear Count, must you go so soon?'

'Yes. I fear I bore you.'

'You do not bore me today more than any other day. When shall we see you again?'

'Whenever you permit.' 'Good-bye, then!'

It was cruel of her, you will agree.

Fortunately, the Count had been brought up very correctly and had an excellent character. He simply kissed the hand which Marguerite rather nonchalantly held out to him and, after taking his leave of us, went out.

As he was stepping through the doorway, he shot a glance at Prudence.

She shrugged her shoulders in a way which said:

'Sorry, but I did all I could.'

'Nanine!' called Marguerite, ' show she Count a light!'

We heard the door open and close.

'At last!' exclaimed Marguerite as she reappeared, 'he's gone; that young man gets terribly on my nerves.'

'My dear girl, 'said Prudence, 'you really are too unkind to him, he's so good to you, so thoughtful. On your mantelpiece, there's yet another watch that he's given you, and it will have set him back at least a thousand ecus, I'll be bound.'

And Madame Duvernoy, who had been moving towards the mantelpiece, was now playing with the bauble as she spoke, and casting covetous
looks at it.

'My dear, ' said Marguerite, sitting down at her piano, 'when I weigh in one hand what he gives me and, in the other, the things he says to me, I conclude that I let him have his visits very cheaply.'

'The poor boy is in love with you.'

'If I had to listen to everybody who is in love with me, I wouldn't have the time to eat my dinner.'

And she ran her fingers over the piano, after which she turned and said to us:

'Would you like anything? I'd love a little punch.'

'And I could eat a nice piece of chicken, ' said Prudence. 'Shall we have supper?'

'That's it, let's go out for supper, ' said Gaston.

'No, we'll have supper here.'

She rang. Nanine appeared.

'Send out for supper.'

'What shall I order?'

'Anything you like, but be quick, as quick as you can.'

Nanine went out.

'How lovely!' said Marguerite, skipping like a child, 'we are going to have supper. How boring that idiotic Count is!'

The more I saw of this woman, the more enchanted I was. She was entrancingly beautiful. Even her thinness became her.

I was lost in contemplation.

I would be hard put to explain what was going on inside me. I was full of indulgence for the life she led, full of admiration for her beauty. Proof of her disinterestedness was provided by the fact that she could turn down a fashionable and wealthy young man who was only too ready to ruin himself for her, and this, in my eyes, acquitted her of all past faults.

There was in this woman something approaching candour.

She was visibly still in the virgin stage of vice. Her confident bearing, her supple waist, her pink, flared nostrils, her large eyes faintly ringed with blue, all pointed to one of those passionate natures which give out a bouquet of sensuality, just as flasks from the Orient, however tightly sealed they might be, allow the fragrance of the fluids they contain to escape.

In short, either because it was her nature or else an effect of her state of health, her eyes flickered intermittently with flashes of desires which, if spoken, would have been a heaven- sent relevation to any man she loved. But those who had loved Marguerite were beyond counting, and those whom she had loved had not yet begun to be counted.

In other words, one could detect in this girl a virgin who had been turned into a courtesan by the merest accident of chance, and a courtesan whom the merest accident of chance could have turned into............