ts could be noted the neck of
a bottle, a piece of bread, a parcel wrapped up in a newspaper, and a
dangling piece of string. He had thick, tangled, curly hair, gray with
scurf, and his cap was on the floor under his chair.

The entrance of Clotilde created a sensation, due to the elegance of her
toilet. The couples ceased whispering together, the three cab-drivers
left off arguing, and the man who was smoking, having taken his pipe
from his mouth and spat in front of him, turned his head slightly to
look.

Madame de Marelle murmured: "It is very nice; we shall be very
comfortable here. Another time I will dress like a work-girl." And she
sat down, without embarrassment or disgust, before the wooden table,
polished by the fat of dishes, washed by spilt liquors, and cleaned by a
wisp of the waiter's napkin. Duroy, somewhat ill at ease, and slightly
ashamed, sought a peg to hang his tall hat on. Not finding one, he put
it on a chair.

They had a ragout, a slice of melon, and a salad. Clotilde repeated: "I
delight in this. I have low tastes. I like this better than the Cafe
Anglais." Then she added: "If you want to give me complete enjoyment,
you will take me to a dancing place. I know a very funny one close by
called the Reine Blanche."

Duroy, surprised at this, asked: "Whoever took you there?"

He looked at her and saw her blush, somewhat disturbed, as though this
sudden question had aroused within her some delicate recollections.
After one of these feminine hesitations, so short that they can scarcely
be guessed, she replied: "A friend of mine," and then, after a brief
silence, added, "who is dead." And she cast down her eyes with a very
natural sadness.

Duroy, for the first time, thought of all that he did not know as
regarded the past life of this woman. Certainly she already had lovers,
but of what kind, in what class of society? A vague jealousy, a species
of enmity awoke within him; an enmity against all that he did not know,
all that had not belonged to him. He looked at her, irritated at the
mystery wrapped up within that pretty, silent head, which was thinking,
perhaps, at that very moment, of the other, the others, regretfully. How
he would have liked to have looked into her recollections--to have known
all.

She repeated: "Will you take me to the Reine Blanche? That will be a
perfect treat."

He thought: "What matters the past? I am very foolish to bother about
it," and smilingly replied: "Certain