n
attachments. The dog we feed does not leave us, but the Chapuzots
have gone. A sheriff has seized everything on behalf of the
landlord, who has no heart, and the jeweller, who refused to wait
even ten days,--for when we lose the confidence of such as you,
credit goes too. What a position for women who have nothing to
reproach themselves with but the happiness they have given! My
friend, I have taken all I have of any value to _my uncle's_; I have
nothing but the memory of you left, and here is the winter coming
on. I shall be fireless when it turns cold; for the boulevards are
to play only melodramas, in which I have nothing but little bits
of parts which don't _pose_ a woman. How could you misunderstand the
nobleness of my feelings for you?--for there are two ways of
expressing gratitude. You who seemed so happy in seeing me
well-off, how can you leave me in poverty? Oh, my sole friend on
earth, before I go back to the country fairs with Bouthor's circus,
where I can at least make a living, forgive me if I wish to know
whether I have lost you forever. If I were to let myself think of
you when I jump through the hoops, I should be sure to break my legs
by losing _a time_. Whatever may be the result, I am yours for life.

"Marguerite Turquet."

"That letter," thought Thaddeus, shouting with laughter, "is worth the
ten thousand francs I have spent upon her."

III

Clementine came home the next day, and the day after that Paz beheld her
again, more beautiful and graceful than ever. After dinner, during which
the countess treated Paz with an air of perfect indifference, a little
scene took place in the salon between the count and his wife when
Thaddeus had left them. On pretence of asking Adam's advice, Thaddeus
had left Malaga's letter with him, as if by mistake.

"Poor Thaddeus!" said Adam, as Paz disappeared, "what a misfortune for
a man of his distinction to be the plaything of the lowest kind of
circus-rider. He will lose everything, and get lower and lower, and
won't be recognizable before long. Here, read that," added the count,
giving Malaga's letter to his wife.

Clementine read the letter, which smelt of tobacco, and threw it from
her with a look of disgust.

"Thick as the bandage is over his eyes," continued Adam, "he must have
found out something; Malaga tricked him, no doubt."

"But he goes back to her," said Clementine, "and he will forgive her! It
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