ancestors on the slightest provocation, and telling the story of
their life at every opportunity, braggarts, liars, sharpers,
dangerous as their cards, false as their names, brave because they
have to be, like the assassins who can not pluck their victims
except by exposing their own lives. In a word, it is the aristocracy
of the bagnio."

"I like them. They are interesting to fathom and to know, amusing to
listen to, often witty, never commonplace as the ordinary French
guests. Their women are always pretty, with a little flavor of
foreign knavery, with the mystery of their past existence, half of
which, perhaps, spent in a House of Correction. They generally have
fine eyes and glorious hair, the true physique of the profession, an
intoxicating grace, a seductiveness which drives men to folly, an
unwholesome, irresistible charm! They conquer like the highwaymen of
old. They are rapacious creatures; true birds of prey. I like them,
too."

"The Marquise Obardi is one of the type of these elegant good-for-
nothings. Ripe and pretty, with a feline charm, you can see that she
is vicious to the marrow. Everybody has a good time at her house,
with cards, dancing, and suppers; in fact there is everything which
goes to make up the pleasures of fashionable society life."

"Have you ever been or are you now her lover?" Leon Saval asked.

"I have not been her lover, I am not now, and I never shall be. I
only go to the house to see her daughter."

"Ah! She has a daughter, then?"