e was very pretty, I suppose?"

"No; she never was that. It seems she was short, thin, with no bust or
hips, at her best, I am told, and nobody can remember that she was
pretty, even when she was young."

"Then how can you explain ...?"

"How?" the magistrate exclaimed. "Well! what about the eyes? You could
not have looked at them?"

"Yes, yes, you are right," I replied. "Those eyes explain many things,
certainly. They are the eyes of an innocent child."

"Ah!" he exclaimed again, enthusiastically, "Cleopatra, Diana of
Poiters, Ninon de L'Enclos, all the queens of love who were adored when
they were growing old, must have had eyes like hers. A woman who has
such eyes can never grow old. But if Babette lives to be a hundred, she
will always be loved as she has been, and as she is."

"As she is! Bah! By whom, pray?"

"By all the old men in the asylum, by all those who have preserved a
fiber that can be touched, a corner of their heart that can be inflamed,
or the least spark of desire left."

"Do you think so?"

"I am sure of it. And the superintendent loves her more than any of them
do."

"Impossible!"

"I would stake my head on it."

"Well, after all, it is possible, and even probable; it is even certain.
I now remember ..."

And again I saw the insulting, ferocious, familiar look which she had
given the superintendent.

"And who is _la Frieze_?" I asked the magistrate "I suppose you know
that also?"

"He is a retired butcher, who had both his legs frozen in the war of
1870, and whom she is very fond of. No doubt he is a cripple, with two
wooden legs, but still a vigorous man enough, in spite of his
fifty-three years. The loins of a Hercules and the face of a satyr. The
superintendent is quite jealous of him!"

I thought the matter over again, and it seemed very probable to me.
"Does she love _la Frieze_?"

"Yes; he is the chosen lover."

When we arrived at the host's house a short time afterwards, we were
surprised to find everybody in a terrible state of excitement. A crime
had been committed in the asylum; the gendarmes were there and our host
was with them, so we instantly joined them. _La Frieze_ had murdered the
superintendent, and they gave us the details, which were horrible. The
former butcher had hidden behind a door, and catching hold of the other,
had rolled onto the ground with him and bitten him in the throat,
tearing out his carotid, from which the blood spurted into the
murderer