It was the grandmother who was bringing up the boy. She and a
kind-hearted fellow, François Charrière, a sculptor, who as he said
himself, was nothing of a genius, but who, however, designed models and
advantageously sold them to the manufacturers of lamps in the Rue
Saint-Louis au Marais. It was Charrière who, in fulfilment of a vow made
to his friend Marsy, acted as guardian to the boy.

Nobody in Paris now remembered anything about Philippe Marsy. In the
course of time, all the little rumors are hushed in the roar and rattle
of Parisian life. Only some semi-flattering rumors were connected with
Sabine's name, together with some mysterious reminiscences. Moreover,
she had the special attraction of a hostess who imparts to her salon the
peculiar charm and flavor of unceremonious hospitality. One was only
obliged to wear a white cravat about his throat, he did not have to
starch his wits.

Only very recently had Sabine Marsy's salon acquired the reputation of
being an easy-going one, where one was sure of a welcome, a sort of
rendezvous where every one could be found as in the corridor of a
theatre on the night of a first appearance, or on the sidewalk of a
boulevard; a salon well-filled, that could rank with the semi-official
and very distinguished one presided over by Madame Evan, and those
others quieter, more sober--if a little Calvinistic--of the select
Alsatian colony.

Sabine Marsy must have had a great deal of tact, force of character and
perseverance in carrying out her plans, to have reached this point, more
difficult to her, moreover, than it would have been to any other, as she
had no political backing whatever. Her connection with society was