told you I used to be her maid before
I came to mademoiselle, and even I was always afraid of her. But I
liked her. We understood each other, Deschamps and I. Mademoiselle
imagines that Deschamps became jealous of her because of a certain
affair that happened at the Opera Comique several years ago--a mere
quarrel of artists, of which I have seen many. That was partly the
cause, but there was something else. Deschamps used to think that Lord
Clarenceux was in love with her--with her! As a fact, he was not; but
she used to think so, and when Lord Clarenceux first began to pay
attention to mademoiselle, then it was that the jealousy of Deschamps
really sprang up. Ah! I have heard Deschamps swear to--But that is
nothing. She never forgave mademoiselle for being betrothed to Lord
Clarenceux. When he died, she laughed; but her hatred of mademoiselle
was unchanged. It smouldered, only it was very hot underneath. And I
can understand--Lord Clarenceux was so handsome and so rich, the most
fine stern man I ever saw. He used to give me hundred-franc notes."

"Never mind the notes. Why has Deschamps' jealousy revived so suddenly
just recently?"

"Why? Because mademoiselle would come back to the Opera Comique.
Deschamps could not suffer that. And when she heard it was to be so,
she wrote to me--to me!--and asked if it was true that mademoiselle
was to appear as Carmen. Then she came to see me--me--and I was
obliged to tell her it was true, and she was frightfully angry, and
then she began to cry--oh, her despair! She said she knew a way to
stop mademoiselle from singing, and she begged me to help her, and I
said I would."

"You were willing to betray your mistress?"

"Deschamps swore it would do no real harm. Do I not tell you that
Deschamps and I always liked each other? We were old friends. I
sympathized with her; she is growing old."

"How much did she promise to pay you?"

"Not a sou--not a centime. I swear it." The girl stamped her foot and
threw up her head, reddening with the earnestness of her disclaimer.
"What I did, I did from love; and I thought it would not harm
mademoiselle, really."

"Nevertheless you might have killed your mistress."

"Alas!"

"Answer me this: Now that your attempt has failed, what will Deschamps
do? Will she stop, or will she try something else?"

Yvette shook her head slowly.

"I do not know. She is dangerous. Sometimes she is like a mad woman.
You must take care. For myself, I will n