were enormous, when her estate had been
liquidated, she would have to end her days at _La Salpetriere_.

"No, certainly not!" Francois Guerland, the painter, said to himself,
when he read the notice of it in the papers. "No, the great Fanny shall
certainly not end like that." For it was certainly she; there could be
no doubt about it. For a long time after she had shown him that act of
charity, which he could never forget, the child had tried to see his
benefactress again. But Paris is a very mysterious place, and he himself
had had many adventures before he grew up to be a man, and, eventually,
almost somebody! But he only found her in the distance; he had
recognized her at the theater, on the stage, or as she was getting into
her carriage, which was fit for a princess. And how could he approach
her then? Could he remind her of the time when her price was five
francs? No, assuredly not; and so he had followed her, thanked her, and
blessed her, from a distance.

But now the time had come for him to pay his debt, and he paid it.
Although tolerably well known as a painter with a future in store for
him, he was not rich. But what did that matter? He mortgaged that future
which people prophesied for him, and gave himself over, bound hand and
foot, to a picture dealer. Then he had the poor woman taken to an
excellent asylum, where she could have not only every care, but every
necessary comfort and even luxury. Alas! however, general paralysis
never forgives. Sometimes it releases its prey, like the cruel cat
releases the mouse, for a brief moment, only to lay hold of it again
later, more fiercely than ever. Fanny had that period of abatement in
her symptoms, and one morning the physician was able to say to the young
man: "You are anxious to remove her? Very well! But you will soon have
to bring her back, for the cure is only apparent, and her present state
will only endure for a month, at most, and then, only if the patient is
kept free from every excitement and excess!"

"And without that precaution?" Guerland asked him. "Then," the doctor
replied; "the final crisis will be all the nearer; that is all. But
whether it would be nearer or more remote, it will not be the less
fatal." "You are sure of that?" "Absolutely sure."

Francois Guerland took tall Fanny out of the asylum, installed her in
splendid apartments, and went to live with her there. She had grown old,
bloated, with white hair, and sometimes wandered in her m