silent. A woman who looked more like a companion than a servant
opened the door. We went into the drawing-room, and from that to
the boudoir, which was then just as you have seen it since. A
young man was leaning against the mantel-piece. Marguerite,
seated at the piano, let her fingers wander over the notes,
beginning scraps of music without finishing them. The whole scene
breathed boredom, the man embarrassed by the consciousness of his
nullity, the woman tired of her dismal visitor. At the voice of
Prudence, Marguerite rose, and coming toward us with a look of
gratitude to Mme. Duvernoy, said:

"Come in, and welcome."



Chapter 9

"Good-evening, my dear Gaston," said Marguerite to my companion.
"I am very glad to see you. Why didn't you come to see me in my
box at the Varietes?"

"I was afraid it would be indiscreet."

"Friends," and Marguerite lingered over the word, as if to
intimate to those who were present that in spite of the familiar
way in which she greeted him, Gaston was not and never had been
anything more than a friend, "friends are always welcome."

"Then, will you permit me to introduce M. Armand Duval?"