ilted nose and a big mouth, who was known as
Victoire. Then, too, there was a young person of great beauty answering
to the name of Rosine, a jeweller's daughter, so Norine told Mathieu,
whose story was at once pathetic and horrible. The young man, while
waiting to see Madame Bourdieu, who was engaged, sat for a time
answering Norine's questions, and listening to the others, who conversed
before him in a free and open way. His heart was wrung by much that he
heard, and as soon as he could rid himself of Norine he returned to the
waiting-room, eager to complete his business. There, however, two women
who wished to consult Madame Bourdieu, and who sat chatting side by side
on a sofa, told him that she was still engaged, so that he was compelled
to tarry a little longer. He ensconced himself in a large armchair, and
taking a newspaper from his pocket, began to read it. But he had not
been thus occupied for many minutes before the door opened and a servant
entered, ushering in a lady dressed in black and thickly veiled, whom
she asked to be good enough to wait her turn. Mathieu was on the point
of rising, for, though his back was turned to the door, he could see,
in a looking-glass, that the new arrival was none other than Morange's
wife, Valerie. After a moment's hesitation, however, the sight of her
black gown and thick veil, which seemed to indicate that she desired to
escape recognition, induced him to dive back into his armchair and feign
extreme attention to his newspaper. She, on her side, had certainly
not noticed him, but by glancing slantwise towards the looking-glass he
could observe all her movements.

Meantime the conversation between the other women on the sofa continued,
and to Mathieu's surprise it suddenly turned on Madame Rouche,
concerning whom one of them began telling the most horrible stories,
which fully confirmed the young man's previous suspicions. These stories
seemed to have a powerful fascination for Valerie, who sat in a corner,
never stirring, but listening intently. She did not even turn her head
towards the other women, but, beneath her veil, Mathieu could detect her
big eyes glittering feverishly. She started but once. It was when one of
the others inquired of her friend where that horrid creature La Rouche
resided, and the other replied, "At the lower end of the Rue du Rocher."

Then their chatter abruptly ceased, for Madame Bourdieu made her
appearance on the threshold of her private room.