join you in an undertaking which seems a cruel one to me, however good
your reasons may be. Besides I may know your wife, she may even be a
friend of mine."

"I will tell you her name."

"No, I beg of you not to do so, although I do not know any Madame
Constantini."

"She has changed her name to Calori, and she sings at the 'Haymarket.'"

"I know who she is now. I am sorry you have told me."

"I have no doubt you will keep my secret, and I am now going to find out
where she lives; for that is the principal thing."

He left me weeping, and I pitied him, but at the same time I was sorry
that he had made me the depositary of his secret. A few hours after I
called on Madame Binetti, and she told me the histories of all the
artistes in London. When she came to the Calori she told me that she had
had several lovers out of whom she had made a great deal, but at present
she had no lover, unless it were the violinist Giardini, with whom she
was in love in earnest.

"Where does she come from?"

"From Vicenza."

"Is she married?"