ot admit it to her sentimental instructress. By the way,
although she had been made to sing a great deal at Mademoiselle Le
Mire's, her voice was still fresh and not unpleasing.

Having no social connections, she came gradually to make a friend of her
singing-mistress. She would keep her to breakfast, take her to drive in
the new coupe and to assist in her purchases of gowns and jewels. Madame
Dobson's sentimental and sympathetic tone led one to repose confidence
in her. Her continual repinings seemed too long to attract other
repinings. Sidonie told her of Georges, of their relations, attempting
to palliate her offence by blaming the cruelty of her parents in
marrying her by force to a man much older than herself. Madame Dobson at
once showed a disposition to assist them; not that the little woman was
venal, but she had a passion for passion, a taste for romantic intrigue.
As she was unhappy in her own home, married to a dentist who beat her,
all husbands were monsters in her eyes, and poor Risler especially
seemed to her a horrible tyrant whom his wife was quite justified in
hating and deceiving.

She was an active confidant and a very useful one. Two or three times a
week she would bring tickets for a box at the Opera or the Italiens, or
some one of the little theatres which enjoy a temporary vogue, and cause
all Paris to go from one end of Paris to the other for a season. In
Risler's eyes the tickets came from Madame Dobson; she had as many as
she chose to the theatres where operas were given. The poor wretch had
no suspicion that one of those boxes for an important "first night" had
often cost his partner ten or fifteen Louis.

In the evening, when his wife went away, always splendidly attired, he
would gaze admiringly at her, having no suspicion of the cost of her
costumes, certainly none of the man who paid for them, and would await
her return at his table by the fire, busy with his drawings, free from
care, and happy to be able to say to himself, "What a good time she is
having!"

On the floor below, at the Fromonts', the same comedy was being played,
but with a transposition of parts. There it was the young wife who sat
by the fire. Every evening, half an hour after Sidonie's departure, the
great gate swung open to give passage to the Fromont coupe conveying
Monsieur to his club. What would you have? Business has its demands. All
the great deals are arranged at the club, around the bouillotte table,
and a m