a service, neighbor. And,
besides, do not say that a hundred and fifty francs are nothing to
you: perhaps you do not earn much more each month."

"I confess it," he said, blushing a little.

"You see, then? No, it was not to you that my words were addressed,
but to the man who has paid the Fortins. He was waiting on the
Boulevard, the result of the manoeuvre, which, they thought, was
about to place me at his mercy. He ran quickly to me when I went
out, and followed me all the way to the office of the commissary
of police, as he follows me everywhere for the past month, with his
sickening gallantries and his degrading propositions."

The eye flashing with anger,

"Ah, if I had known!" exclaimed Maxence. "If you had told me but
a word!"

She smiled at his vehemence.

"What would you have done?" she said. "You cannot impart
intelligence to a fool, heart to a coward, or delicacy of feeling
to a boor."

"I could have chastised the miserable insulter."

She had a superb gesture of indifference.

"Bash!" she interrupted. "What are insults to me? I am so
accustomed to them, that they no longer have any effect upon me.
I am eighteen: I have neither family, relatives, friends, nor any
one in the world who even knows my existence; and I live by my
labor. Can't you see what must be the humiliations of each day?
Since I was eight years old, I have been earning the bread I eat,
the dress I wear, and the rent of the den where I sleep. Can you
understand what I have endured, to what ignominies I have been
exposed, what traps have been set for me, and how it has happened
to me sometimes to owe my safety to mere physical force? And yet
I do not complain, since through it all I have been able to retain
the respect of myself, and to remain virtuous in spite of all."

She was laughing a laugh that had something wild in it.

And, as Maxence was looking at her with immense surprise,

"That seems strange to you, doesn't it?" she resumed. "A girl of
eighteen, without a sou, free as air, very pretty, and yet virtuous
in the midst of Paris. Probably you don't believe it, or, if you
do, you just think, 'What on earth does she make by it?'

"And really you are right; for, after all, who cares, and who thinks
any the more of me, if I work sixteen hours a day to remain virtuous?
But it's a fancy of my own; and don't imagine for a moment that I am
deterred by any scruples, or by timidity, or ignorance. No, no!
I believ