mere, had fallen from her shoulders, and was held by its
two corners, which were twisted round her wrists. She had a delicate
face, rosy cheeks, a white skin, sparkling gray eyes, a round, very
promising forehead, hair carefully smoothed beneath her little bonnet,
and heavy curls upon her neck.

"My name is Ida," she said, "and if that's Madame Jules to whom I have
the advantage of speaking, I've come to tell her all I have in my
heart against her. It is very wrong, when a woman is set up and in her
furniture, as you are here, to come and take from a poor girl a man
with whom I'm as good as married, morally, and who did talk of making it
right by marrying me before the municipality. There's plenty of handsome
young men in the world--ain't there, monsieur?--to take your fancy,
without going after a man of middle age, who makes my happiness. Yah! I
haven't got a fine hotel like this, but I've got my love, I have. I hate
handsome men and money; I'm all heart, and--"

Madame Jules turned to her husband.

"You will allow me, monsieur, to hear no more of all this," she said,
retreating to her bedroom.

"If the lady lives with you, I've made a mess of it; but I can't help
that," resumed Ida. "Why does she come after Monsieur Ferragus every
day?"

"You are mistaken, mademoiselle," said Jules, stupefied; "my wife is
incapable--"

"Ha! so you're married, you two," said the grisette showing some
surprise. "Then it's very wrong, monsieur,--isn't it?--for a woman who
has the happiness of being married in legal marriage to have relations
with a man like Henri--"

"Henri! who is Henri?" said Jules, taking Ida by the arm and pulling her
into an adjoining room that his wife might hear no more.

"Why, Monsieur Ferragus."

"But he is dead," said Jules.

"Nonsense; I went to Franconi's with him last night, and he brought me
home--as he ought. Besides, your wife can tell you about him; didn't
she go there this very afternoon at three o'clock? I know she did, for
I waited in the street, and saw her,--all because that good-natured
fellow, Monsieur Justin, whom you know perhaps,--a little old man with
jewelry who wears corsets,--told me that Madame Jules was my rival. That
name, monsieur, sounds mighty like a feigned one; but if it is yours,
excuse me. But this I say, if Madame Jules was a court duchess, Henri is
rich enough to satisfy all her fancies, and it is my business to protect
my property; I've a right to, for I love him,