nstinct that it is over--that she will not appear
here again. Daudet might make use of her. I can't. What a specimen! A
boy and girl match, I suppose. What else could have induced that poor
wretch to cut his throat in such fashion? He, of all men!'

And Eugenie de Netteville stood thinking--not, apparently, of the
puritanical wife; the dangerous softness which overspread the face could
have had no connection with Catherine.

Madame de Netteville's instinct was just. Catherine Elsmere never
appeared again in her drawing-room.

But, with a little sad confession of her own invincible distaste, the
wife pressed the husband to go without her. She urged it at a bitter
moment, when it was clear to her that their lives must of necessity,
even in outward matters, be more separate than before. Elsmere resisted
for a time; then, lured one evening towards the end of February by the
prospect conveyed in a note from Madame de Netteville, wherein Catherine
was mentioned in the most scrupulously civil terms, of meeting one of
the most eminent of French critics, he went, and thenceforward went
often. He had, so far, no particular liking for the hostess; he hated
some of her _habitues_; but there was no doubt that in some ways she
made an admirable holder of a _salon_, and that round about her there
was a subtle mixture of elements, a liberty of discussion and comment,
to be found nowhere else. And how bracing and refreshing was that free
play of equal mind to the man weary sometimes of his leader's _role_ and
weary of himself!

As to the _woman_, his social _naivete_, which was extraordinary, but in
a man of his type most natural, made him accept her exactly as he found
her. If there were two or three people in Paris or London who knew or
suspected incidents of Madame de Netteville's young married days which
made her reception at some of the strictest English houses a matter of
cynical amusement to them, not the remotest inkling of their knowledge
was ever likely to reach Elsmere. He was not a man who attracted
scandals. Nor was it anybody's interest to spread them. Madame de
Netteville's position in London society was obviously excellent. If she
had peculiarities of manner and speech they were easily supposed to be
French. Meanwhile she was undeniably rich and distinguished, and gifted
with a most remarkable power of protecting herself and her neighbours
from boredom. At the same time, though Elsmere was, in truth, more
interested