a pigeon-hole like a married man. I have all the discomforts of
marriage and of single life, without the advantages of either; a false
position to which every man must come who remains tied too long to the
same apron-string."

"So you think you will come upon a treasure here?" said Bianchon.
"Your Marquise, my dear fellow, does not hit my fancy at all."

"Your liberal opinions blur your eyesight. If Madame d'Espard were a
Madame Rabourdin . . ."

"Listen to me. Noble or simple, she would still have no soul; she
would still be a perfect type of selfishness. Take my word for it,
medical men are accustomed to judge of people and things; the sharpest
of us read the soul while we study the body. In spite of that pretty
boudoir where we have spent this evening, in spite of the magnificence
of the house, it is quite possible that Madame la Marquise is in
debt."

"What makes you think so?"

"I do not assert it; I am supposing. She talked of her soul as Louis
XVIII. used to talk of his heart. I tell you this: That fragile, fair
woman, with her chestnut hair, who pities herself that she may be
pitied, enjoys an iron constitution, an appetite like a wolf's, and
the strength and cowardice of a tiger. Gauze, and silk, and muslin
were never more cleverly twisted round a lie! Ecco."

"Bianchon, you frighten me! You have learned a good many things, then,
since we lived in the Maison Vauquer?"