d'une jolie force."

"His picture's very charming," said Longmore, "but his dame is more
charming still."

"She's a very nice little woman; but I pity her all the more."

"I don't see why she's to be pitied," Longmore pleaded. "They seem a
very happy couple."

The landlady gave a knowing nod. "Don't trust to it, monsieur! Those
artists--ca na pas de principes! From one day to another he can plant
her there! I know them, allez. I've had them here very often; one year
with one, another year with another."

Longmore was at first puzzled. Then, "You mean she's not his wife?" he
asked.

She took it responsibly. "What shall I tell you? They're not des hommes
serieux, those gentlemen! They don't engage for eternity. It's none of
my business, and I've no wish to speak ill of madame. She's gentille--
but gentille, and she loves her jeune homme to distraction."

"Who then is so distinguished a young woman?" asked Longmore. "What do
you know about her?"

"Nothing for certain; but it's my belief that she's better than he. I've
even gone so far as to believe that she's a lady--a vraie dame--and that
she has given up a great many things for him. I do the best I can for
them, but I don't believe she has had all her life to put up with a