slantwise towards the looking-glass he could observe all her movements.

Meantime the conversation between the other women on the sofa continued,
and to Mathieu's surprise it suddenly turned on Madame Rouche, concerning
whom one of them began telling the most horrible stories, which fully
confirmed the young man's previous suspicions. These stories seemed to
have a powerful fascination for Valerie, who sat in a corner, never
stirring, but listening intently. She did not even turn her head towards
the other women, but, beneath her veil, Mathieu could detect her big eyes
glittering feverishly. She started but once. It was when one of the
others inquired of her friend where that horrid creature La Rouche
resided, and the other replied, "At the lower end of the Rue du Rocher."

Then their chatter abruptly ceased, for Madame Bourdieu made her
appearance on the threshold of her private room. The gossips exchanged
only a few words with her, and then, as Mathieu remained in his armchair,
the high back of which concealed him from view, Valerie rose from her
seat and followed Madame Bourdieu into the private room.

As soon as he was alone the young man let his newspaper fall upon his
knees, and lapsed into a reverie, haunted by all the chatter he had
heard, both there and in Norine's company, and shuddering at the thought
of the dreadful secrets that had been revealed to him. How long an
interval elapsed he could not tell, but at last he was suddenly roused by
a sound of voices.

Madame Bourdieu was now escorting Valerie to the door. She had the same
plump fresh face as usual, and even smiled in a motherly way; but the
other was quivering, as with distress and grief. "You are not sensible,
my dear child," said Madame Bourdieu to her. "It is simply foolish of