observer a countenance worn
by the corruption of Paris life, the unhealthy complexion of a girl fed
on raw apples, lymphatic but sinewy, soft but tenacious. One little foot
was set forward, her hands were in her apron-pockets, and she fidgeted
incessantly without moving, from sheer excess of liveliness. Grisette
and stage super, in spite of her youth she must have tried many trades.
As full of evil as a dozen Madelonnettes put together, she might have
robbed her parents, and sat on the bench of a police-court.

Asie was terrifying, but you knew her thoroughly from the first; she
descended in a straight line from Locusta; while Europe filled you with
uneasiness, which could not fail to increase the more you had to do with
her; her corruption seemed boundless. You felt that she could set the
devils by the ears.

"Madame might say she had come from Valenciennes," said Europe in a
precise little voice. "I was born there--Perhaps monsieur," she added
to Lucien in a pedantic tone, "will be good enough to say what name he
proposes to give to madame?"

"Madame van Bogseck," the Spaniard put in, reversing Esther's name.
"Madame is a Jewess, a native of Holland, the widow of a merchant,
and suffering from a liver-complaint contracted in Java. No great
fortune--not to excite curiosity."

"Enough to live on--six thousand francs a year; and we shall complain of
her stinginess?" said Europe.

"That is the thing," said the Spaniard, with a bow. "You limbs of
Satan!" he went on, catching Asie and Europe exchanging a glance that
displeased him, "remember what I have told you. You are serving a queen;
you owe her as much respect as to a queen; you are to cherish her as you
would cherish a revenge, and be as devoted to her as to me. Neither
the door-porter, nor the neighbors, nor the other inhabitants of the
house--in short, not a soul on earth is to know what goes on here. It is
your business to balk curiosity if any should be roused.--And madame,"
he went on laying his broad hairy hand on Esther's arm, "madame must not
commit the smallest imprudence; you must prevent it in case of need, but
always with perfect respect.

"You, Europe, are to go out for madame in anything that concerns her
dress, and you must do her sewing from motives of economy. Finally,
nobody, not even the most insignificant creature, is ever to set foot in
this apartment. You two, between you, must do all there is to be done.

"And you, my beauty," he went o