that I do. He is my
_first_ inclination; my happiness and all my future fate depends on
it. I fear nothing, monsieur; I am honest; I never lied, or stole the
property of any living soul, no matter who. If an empress was my rival,
I'd go straight to her, empress as she was; because all pretty women are
equals, monsieur--"

"Enough! enough!" said Jules. "Where do you live?"

"Rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number 14, monsieur,--Ida Gruget,
corset-maker, at your service,--for we make lots of corsets for men."

"Where does the man whom you call Ferragus live?"

"Monsieur," she said, pursing up her lips, "in the first place, he's not
a man; he is a rich monsieur, much richer, perhaps, than you are. But
why do you ask me his address when your wife knows it? He told me not
to give it. Am I obliged to answer you? I'm not, thank God, in a
confessional or a police-court; I'm responsible only to myself."

"If I were to offer you ten thousand francs to tell me where Monsieur
Ferragus lives, how then?"

"Ha! n, o, _no_, my little friend, and that ends the matter," she said,
emphasizing this singular reply with a popular gesture. "There's no
sum in the world could make me tell you. I have the honor to bid you
good-day. How do I get out of here?"

Jules, horror-struck, allowed her to go without further notice. The
whole world seemed to crumble beneath his feet, and above him the
heavens were falling with a crash.

"Monsieur is served," said his valet.

The valet and the footman waited in the dining-room a quarter of an hour
without seeing master or mistress.

"Madame will not dine to-day," said the waiting-maid, coming in.

"What's the matter, Josephine?" asked the valet.

"I don't know," she answered. "Madame is crying, and is going to bed.
Monsieur has no doubt got some love-affair on hand, and it has been
discovered at a very bad time. I wouldn't answer for madame's life. Men
are so clumsy; they'll make you scenes without any precaution."

"That's not so," said the valet, in a low voice. "On the contrary,
madame is the one who--you understand? What times does monsieur have to
go after pleasures, he, who hasn't slept out of madame's room for five
years, who goes to his study at ten and never leaves it till breakfast,
at twelve. His life is all known, it is regular; whereas madame goes out
nearly every day at three o'clock, Heaven knows where."

"And monsieur too," said the maid, taking her mistress's part.

"Yes, bu