n eye on her, that she might behave
as well as might be in this rather--what shall I say--shady?--no,
delicate position.

"The child, whose talent for music was striking, had masters, she was
educated--I had to give her something to do. Besides, I wished to be
at once her father, her benefactor, and--well, out with it--her lover;
to kill two birds with one stone, a good action and a sweetheart. For
five years I was very happy. The girl had one of those voices that
make the fortune of a theatre; I can only describe her by saying that
she is a Duprez in petticoats. It cost me two thousand francs a year
only to cultivate her talent as a singer. She made me music-mad; I
took a box at the opera for her and for my daughter, and went there
alternate evenings with Celestine or Josepha."

"What, the famous singer?"

"Yes, madame," said Crevel with pride, "the famous Josepha owes
everything to me.--At last, in 1834, when the child was twenty,
believing that I had attached her to me for ever, and being very weak
where she was concerned, I thought I would give her a little
amusement, and I introduced her to a pretty little actress, Jenny
Cadine, whose life had been somewhat like her own. This actress also
owed everything to a protector who had brought her up in
leading-strings. That protector was Baron Hulot."

"I know that," said the Baroness, in a calm voice without the least
agitation.

"Bless me!" cried Crevel, more and more astounded. "Well! But do you
know that your monster of a husband took Jenny Cadine in hand at the
age of thirteen?"

"What then?" said the Baroness.

"As Jenny Cadine and Josepha were both aged twenty when they first
met," the ex-tradesman went on, "the Baron had been playing the part
of Louis XV. to Mademoiselle de Romans ever since 1826, and you were
twelve years younger then----"

"I had my reasons, monsieur, for leaving Monsieur Hulot his liberty."

"That falsehood, madame, will surely be enough to wipe out every sin
you have ever committed, and to open to you the gates of Paradise,"
replied Crevel, with a knowing air that brought the color to the
Baroness' cheeks. "Sublime and adored woman, tell that to those who
will believe it, but not to old Crevel, who has, I may tell you,
feasted too often as one of four with your rascally husband not to
know what your high merits are! Many a time has he blamed himself when
half tipsy as he has expatiated on your perfections. Oh, I know you
well!--A l