e them also.

"Madame Samoris is the type of these adventuresses, elegant, mature and
still beautiful. Charming feline creatures, you feel that they are
vicious to the marrow of their bones. You find them very amusing when you
visit them; they give card parties; they have dances and suppers; in
short, they offer you all the pleasures of social life.

"And she had a daughter--a tall, fine-looking girl, always ready for
amusement, always full of laughter and reckless gaiety--a true
adventuress' daughter--but, at the same time, an innocent,
unsophisticated, artless girl, who saw nothing, knew nothing, understood
nothing of all the things that happened in her father's house.

"The girl was simply a puzzle to me. She was a mystery. She lived amid
those infamous surroundings with a quiet, tranquil ease that was either
terribly criminal or else the result of innocence. She sprang from the
filth of that class like a beautiful flower fed on corruption."

"How do you know about them?"

"How do I know? That's the funniest part of the business! One morning
there was a ring at my door, and my valet came up to tell me that M.
Joseph Bonenthal wanted to speak to me. I said directly:

"'And who is this gentleman?' My valet replied: 'I don't know, monsieur;
perhaps 'tis some one that wants employment.' And so it was. The man
wanted me to take him as a servant. I asked him where he had been last.
He answered: 'With the Comtesse Samoris.' 'Ah!' said I, 'but my house is
not a bit like hers.' 'I know that well, monsieur,' he said, 'and that's
the very reason I want to take service with monsieur. I've had enough of
these people: a man may stay a little while with them, but he won't
remain long with them.' I required an additional man servant at the time
and so I took him.

"A month later Mademoiselle Yvette Samoris died mysteriously, and here
are all the details of her death I could gather from Joseph, who got them
from his sweetheart, the comtesse's chambermaid.

"It was a ball night, and two newly arrived guests were chatting behind a
door. Mademoiselle Yvette, who had just been dancing, leaned against this
door to get a little air.

"They did not see her approaching, but she heard what they were saying.
And this was what they said:

"'But who is the father of the girl?'

"'A Russian, it appears; Count Rouvaloff. He never comes near the mother
now.'

"'And who is the reigning prince to-day?'

"'That English prince standing