him with Nanteuil and killed him."

"Come, come!"

"I can assure you that I am accurately informed."

The conversations were becoming animated and familiar.

"So you are here, you wicked old sinner!"

"The box-office receipts are falling off already."

"Stella has succeeded in getting herself proposed by seventeen Deputies,
nine of whom are members of the Budget Commission."

"Yet I told Herschell, 'That little Bocquet fellow isn't the man for you.
What you need is a man of standing.'"

When the bier, borne by the undertaker's men, passed through the west
door, the delicious rays of a winter sun fell on the faces of the women
and the roses lying on the coffin. Grouped on either side of the parvis,
a few young men from the great colleges sought the faces of celebrities;
the little factory girls from the neighbouring workshops, standing in
couples with arms round each other's waists, contemplated the
actresses' dresses. And standing against the porch on their aching feet,
a couple of tramps, accustomed to living under the open sky, whether
mild or sullen, slowly shifted their dejected gaze, while a college lad
gazed with rapture at the fiery tresses which coiled like flames on the
nape of Fagette's neck.

She had stopped on the topmost step in front of the doors, and was
chatting with Constantin Marc and a few journalists:

"...Monsieur de Ligny? He danced attendance upon me long before he knew
Nanteuil. He used to gaze upon me by the hour, with eager eyes, without
daring to speak a word to me. I received him willingly enough, for his
behaviour was perfect. It is only fair to say that his manners are
excellent. He was as reserved as a man could be. At last, one day, he
declared that he was madly in love with me. I told him that as he was
speaking to me seriously I would do the same; that I was truly sorry to
see him in such a state; that every time such a thing happened I was
greatly upset by it; that I was a woman of standing, I had settled my
life, and could do nothing for him. He was desperate. He informed me
that he was leaving for Constantinople, that he would never return. He
couldn't make up his mind either to remain or to go away. He fell ill.
Nanteuil, who thought I loved him and wanted to keep him, did all in
her power to get him away from me. She flung herself at his head in the
craziest fashion, I found her sometimes a trifle ridiculous, but, as you
may imagine, I did not place any obstacle in her p