d continued: "Oh! how many conquests that man
has made! More than one could believe, monsieur, more than the finest
gentlemen of the world, than all the tenors and all the generals."

"Really? What did he do?"

"Oh! it will surprise you at first, as you did not know him in his palmy
days. When I met him it was also at a ball, for he has always frequented
them. As soon as I saw him I was caught--caught like a fish on a hook.
Ah! how pretty he was, monsieur, with his curly raven locks and black
eyes as large as saucers! Indeed, he was good looking! He took me away
that evening and I never have left him since, never, not even for a day,
no matter what he did to me! Oh! he has often made it hard for me!"

The doctor asked: "Are you married?"

She answered simply: "Yes, monsieur, otherwise he would have dropped me
as he did the others. I have been his wife and his servant, everything,
everything that he wished. How he has made me cry--tears which I did
not show him; for he would tell all his adventures to me--to me,
monsieur--without understanding how it hurt me to listen."

"But what was his business?"

"That's so. I forgot to tell you. He was the foreman at Martel's--a
foreman such as they never had had--an artist who averaged ten francs an
hour."

"Martel?--who is Martel?"

"The hairdresser, monsieur, the great hairdresser of the Opera, who had
all the actresses for customers. Yes, sir, all the smartest actresses
had their hair dressed by Ambrose and they would give him tips that made
a fortune for him. Ah! monsieur, all the women are alike, yes, all of
them. When a man pleases their fancy they offer themselves to him. It
is so easy--and it hurt me so to hear about it. For he would tell me
everything--he simply could not hold his tongue--it was impossible.
Those things please the men so much! They seem to get even more
enjoyment out of telling than doing.

"When I would see him coming in the evening, a little pale, with a
pleased look and a bright eye, would say to myself: 'One more. I am sure
that he has caught one more.' Then I felt a wild desire to question him
and then, again, not to know, to stop his talking if he should begin.
And we would look at each other.

"I knew that he would not keep still, that he would come to the point. I
could feel that from his manner, which seemed to laugh and say: 'I had a
fine adventure to-day, Madeleine.' I would pretend to notice nothing,
to guess nothing; I would set th