the end.' It
seemed as if I were about to be released from prison. At last I could
have him to myself, all to myself, when the others would no longer want
him.

"It was one morning in bed. He was still sleeping and I leaned over
him to wake him up with a kiss, when I noticed in his curls, over his
temple, a little thread which shone like silver. What a surprise! I
should not have thought it possible! At first I thought of tearing it
out so that he would not see it, but as I looked carefully I noticed
another farther up. White hair! He was going to have white hair! My
heart began to thump and perspiration stood out all over me, but away
down at the bottom I was happy.

"It was mean to feel thus, but I did my housework with a light heart
that morning, without waking him up, and, as soon as he opened his eyes
of his own accord, I said to him: 'Do you know what I discovered while
you were asleep?'

"'No.'

"'I found white hairs.'

"He started up as if I had tickled him and said angrily: 'It's not
true!'

"'Yes, it is. There are four of them over your left temple.'

"He jumped out of bed and ran over to the mirror. He could not find
them. Then I showed him the first one, the lowest, the little curly one,
and I said: 'It's no wonder, after the life that you have been leading.
In two years all will be over for you.'

"Well, monsieur, I had spoken true; two years later one could not
recognize him. How quickly a man changes! He was still handsome, but he
had lost his freshness, and the women no longer ran after him. Ah! what
a life I led at that time! How he treated me! Nothing suited him. He
left his trade to go into the hat business, in which he ate up all his
money. Then he unsuccessfully tried to be an actor, and finally he began
to frequent public balls. Fortunately, he had had common sense enough to
save a little something on which we now live. It is sufficient, but it
is not enormous. And to think that at one time he had almost a fortune.

"Now you see what he does. This habit holds him like a frenzy. He has to
be young; he has to dance with women who smell of perfume and cosmetics.
You poor old darling!"

She was looking at her old snoring husband fondly, ready to cry. Then,
gently tiptoeing up to him, she kissed his hair. The physician had risen
and was getting ready to leave, finding nothing to say to this strange
couple. Just as he was leaving she asked:

"Would you mind giving me your address? If he s