his face; it was as if he had said, "Aha! so she has paid it, has she?
. . . Faith, so much the better!" I read the Countess' future in his
face. That good-looking, fair-haired young gentleman is a heartless
gambler; he will ruin himself, ruin her, ruin her husband, ruin the
children, eat up their portions, and work more havoc in Parisian
salons than a whole battery of howitzers in a regiment.

"'I went back to see Mlle. Fanny in the Rue Montmartre, climbed a
very steep, narrow staircase, and reached a two-roomed dwelling on the
fifth floor. Everything was as neat as a new ducat. I did not see a
speck of dust on the furniture in the first room, where Mlle. Fanny
was sitting. Mlle. Fanny herself was a young Parisian girl, quietly
dressed, with a delicate fresh face, and a winning look. The
arrangement of her neatly brushed chestnut hair in a double curve on
her forehead lent a refined expression to blue eyes, clear as crystal.
The broad daylight streaming in through the short curtains against the
window pane fell with softened light on her girlish face. A pile of
shaped pieces of linen told me that she was a sempstress. She looked
like a spirit of solitude. When I held out the bill, I remarked that
she had not been at home when I called in the morning.

"'"But the money was left with the porter's wife," said she.

"'I pretended not to understand.

"'"You go out early, mademoiselle, it seems."

"'"I very seldom leave my room; but when you work all night, you are
obliged to take a bath sometimes."