"That is the Comte de G., who was very much in love with
Marguerite; it was he who brought her out. Do you know him?"

"No. And this one?" I inquired, pointing to the other miniature.

"That is the little Vicomte de L. He was obliged to disappear."

"Why?"

"Because he was all but ruined. That's one, if you like, who
loved Marguerite."

"And she loved him, too, no doubt?"

"She is such a queer girl, one never knows. The night he went
away she went to the theatre as usual, and yet she had cried when
he said good-bye to her."

Just then Nanine appeared, to tell us that supper was served.

When we entered the dining-room, Marguerite was leaning against
the wall, and Gaston, holding her hands, was speaking to her in a
low voice.

"You are mad," replied Marguerite. "You know quite well that I
don't want you. It is no good at the end of two years to make
love to a woman like me. With us, it is at once, or never. Come,
gentlemen, supper!"

And, slipping away from Gaston, Marguerite made him sit on her