all the women who come here."

"And her name is?--"

"Madame Komorn."

"Is she as impregnable as the fortress of that name?"

Our readers will doubtless remember that at the time of the insurrection
in Hungary our ears were battered by the press and by novelists about
the famous citadel of Komorn; and la Peyrade knew that by assuming a
tone of indifference or flippancy he was more likely to succeed with his
inquiries.

"Has monsieur any idea of making her acquaintance?"

"I don't know," replied la Peyrade, "but she is a woman who makes people
think of her."

"And a very dangerous woman, monsieur," added his companion; "a fearful
spendthrift, but with no inclination to return generously what is done
for her. I can speak knowingly of that; when she first arrived here from
Berlin, six months ago, she was very warmly recommended to me."

"Ah!" exclaimed la Peyrade.

"Yes, at that time I had in the environs of Ville d'Avray a very
beautiful place, with park and coverts and a stream for fishing; but as
I was alone I found it dull, and several of these ladies and gentlemen
said to me, 'Madame Louchard, why don't you organize parties in the
style of picnics?'"

"Madame Louchard!" repeated la Peyrade, "are you any relation to
Monsieur Louchard of the commercial police?"

"His wife, monsieur, but legally separated from him. A horrid man who
wants me to go back to him; but I, though I'm ready to forgive most
things, I can't forgive a want of respect; just imagine that he dared to
raise his hand against me!"

"Well," said la Peyrade, trying to bring her back to the matter in
hand; "you organized those picnics, and Madame de Godo--I mean Madame
Komorn--"

"Was one of my first lodgers. It was there she made acquaintance with an
Italian, a handsome man, and rich, a political refugee, but one of the
lofty kind. You understand it didn't suit my purposes to have intrigues
going on in my house; still the man was so lovable, and so unhappy
because he couldn't make Madame Komorn like him, that at last I took an
interest in this particular love affair; which produced a pot of money
for madame, for she managed to get immense sums out of that Italian.
Well, would you believe that when--being just then in great need--I
asked her to assist me with a trifling little sum, she refused me
point-blank, and left my house, taking her lover with her, who, poor
man, can't be thankful for the acquaintance now."

"Why not? What happened