ed like the reflection of fire.

Marianne rang several times when she arrived at the garden railing of
the little house. The bells sounded as if they were coated with rust. An
ancient maid-servant, astonished and morose, came to open the door.

She conducted the young woman into the salon where Claire Dujarrier sat
alone, eating cakes, with her terrier on her lap.

The dog almost leaped at Marianne's throat while Claire, rising, threw
herself on her neck.

"Ah! dear little one!--How pleased I am! What chance brings you?"

Marianne looked at the Dujarrier. She might still be called almost
lovely, although she was a little painted and her eyes were swollen, and
her cheeks withered; but she knew so perfectly well all the secrets for
rejuvenating, the eyebrow preparation, the labial wash, that she was a
walking pharmaceutical painting done on finely sculptured features. The
statue, although burdened with fat, was still superb.

She listened to Marianne, smiled, frowned and, love-broker and advisory
courtesan that she was, ended by saying to the "little one" that she had
a devilish good chance and that she had arrived like March in Lent.

"It is true, it has purposely happened. Vanda, you know her well?"

"No!" answered Marianne.

"What! Vanda, whom that big viper Guy called the Walking Rain?"

"I do not remember--"

"Well! Vanda has gone to Russia, she left a month ago. She will be there
all the winter and summer, and part of next winter. Her _general_
requires her. He is appointed to keep an eye on the Nihilists. So she
wishes to rent her house in Rue Prony. That is very natural. A charming
house. Very _chic_. In admirable taste. You have the chance. And not
dear."

"Too dear for me, who have nothing!"

"Little silly! You have yourself," said Claire Dujarrier. "Then you have
me, I have always liked you. I will lend you the ready cash to set
yourself up, you can give me bills of exchange, little documents that
your minister--pest! you are going on well, you are, ministers!--that
His Excellency will endorse. Vanda will not expect anything after the
first quarter. Provided that her house is well-rented to someone who
does not spoil it, she will be satisfied. If she should claim all, why,
at a pinch I can make up the amount. But, my dear,"--and the old woman
lowered her voice,--"on no account say anything to Adolphe."

"Adolphe?"

"Yes, my _husband_. You do not know him?"

She took from the table a photograp