angel's and the soul of a swindler.
The result of the union was a stillborn child. Then Seraphine, who was
extremely egotistical and avaricious, quarrelled with her husband and
drove him away. He repaired to Berlin, and was killed there in a brawl
at a gambling den. Delighted at being rid of him, Seraphine made every
use of her liberty as a young widow. She figured at every fete, took
part in every kind of amusement, and many scandalous stories were told
of her; but she contrived to keep up appearances and was thus still
received everywhere.

"You are living in the country, are you not?" she asked again, turning
towards Mathieu.

"Yes, we have been there for three weeks past."

"Constance told me of it. I met her the other day at Madame Seguin's.
We are on the best terms possible, you know, now that I give my brother
good advice."

In point of fact her sister-in-law, Constance, hated her, but with her
usual boldness she treated the matter as a joke.

"We talked about Dr. Gaude," she resumed; "I fancied that she wanted to
ask for his address; but she did not dare."

"Dr. Gaude!" interrupted Morange. "Ah! yes, a friend of my wife's spoke
to her about him. He's a wonderfully clever man, it appears. Some of his
operations are like miracles."

Then he went on talking of Dr. Gaude's clinic at the Hopital Marbeuf, a
clinic whither society folks hastened to see operations performed, just
as they might go to a theatre. The doctor, who was fond of money, and
who bled his wealthy lady patients in more senses than one, was
likewise partial to glory and proud of accomplishing the most dangerous
experiments on the unhappy creatures who fell into his hands. The
newspapers were always talking about him, his cures were constantly
puffed and advertised by way of inducing fine ladies to trust themselves
to his skill. And he certainly accomplished wonders, cutting and carving
his patients in the quietest, most unconcerned way possible, with never
a scruple, never a doubt as to whether what he did was strictly right or
not.

Seraphine had begun to laugh, showing her white wolfish teeth between
her blood-red lips, when she noticed the horrified expression which had
appeared on Mathieu's face since Gaude had been spoken of. "Ah!" said
she; "there's a man, now, who in nowise resembles your squeamish Dr.
Boutan, who is always prattling about the birth-rate. I can't understand
why Constance keeps to that old-fashioned booby, holding th