ning dress, listen
entranced behind their fans.

This one might pose as the very ideal of his kind; with his vulgar but
irresistible countenance, sunken eye, pallid complexion, hair cut short
and moustaches stiffly plastered with cosmetic. A desperate man such
as women love, hopeless of life but irreproachably dressed, a lyric
enthusiast, chilled and disheartened, in whom the madness of inspiration
can be divined only in the loose and neglected tie of his cravat. But
also what success awaits him, when he delivers in a strident voice
a tirade from his poem, the _Credo of Love_, more especially the one
ending in this extraordinary line:

Moi, je crois a l'amour comme je crois en Dieu! *

* I believe in love as I believe in God.

[Illustration: p045-56]

Mark you, I strongly suspect the rascal cares as little for God, as for
the rest; but women do not look so closely. They are easily caught by
a birdlime of words, and every time Amaury recites his _Credo of Love_,
you are certain to see all round the drawing-room rows upon rows of
little rosy mouths, eagerly opening, ready to swallow the taking bait
of mawkish sentimentality. Just fancy! A poet who has such beautiful
moustaches and who believes in love as he believes in God.

For the nurseryman's wife this proved indeed irresistible. In three
sittings she was conquered. Only, as at the bottom of this elegiac
nature there was some honesty and pride, she would not stoop to any
paltry fault. Moreover the poet himself declared in his _Credo_, that
he only understood one way of erring: that which was openly declared and
ready to defy both law and society. Taking therefore the _Credo of Love_
for her guide, the young woman one fine day escaped from the garden at
Auteuil and went off to throw herself into her poet's arms.--"I can no
longer live with that man! Take me away!"

In such cases the husband is always _that man_, even when he is a
horticulturist.

For a moment Amaury was staggered. How on earth could he have imagined
that an ordinary little housewife of thirty would have taken in earnest
a love poem, and followed it out literally? However he put the best face
he could on his over-good fortune, and as the lady had, thanks to her
little Auteuil garden, remained fresh and pretty, he carried her off
without a murmur. The first days, all was delightful. They feared lest
the husband should track them. They thought it advisable to hide under
fictitious names