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daughter that they had already scarce enough for two； and would certainly
not have enough for three； that such children are useless； and a lying…in is
so much time lost。
Next day a midwife； of whom all we will say is that she was a friend
of the mother； visited Louise； who remained in bed for a few days； and
then got up paler and feebler than before。
Three months afterward a man took pity on her and tried to heal her；
morally and physically； but the last shock had been too violent； and Louise
died of it。 The mother still lives； how？ God knows。
This story returned to my mind while I looked at the silver toilet things；
and a certain space of time must have elapsed during these reflections； for
no one was left in the room but myself and an attendant； who； standing
near the door； was carefully watching me to see that I did not pocket
anything。
I went up to the man； to whom I was causing so much anxiety。 〃Sir；〃 I
said； 〃can you tell me the name of the person who formerly lived here？〃
〃Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier。〃
I knew her by name and by sight。
〃What！〃 I said to the attendant； 〃Marguerite Gautier is dead？〃
〃Yes； sir。〃
〃When did she die？〃
〃Three weeks ago； I believe。〃
〃And why are the rooms on view？〃
〃The creditors believe that it will send up the prices。 People can see
beforehand the effect of the things； you see that induces them to buy。〃
〃She was in debt； then？〃
〃To any extent； sir。〃
〃But the sale will cover it？〃
〃And more too。〃
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〃Who will get what remains over？〃
〃Her family。〃
〃She had a family？〃
〃It seems so。〃
〃Thanks。〃
The attendant； reassured as to my intentions； touched his hat； and I
went out。
〃Poor girl！〃 I said to myself as I returned home； 〃she must have had a
sad death； for； in her world； one has friends only when one is perfectly
well。〃 And in spite of myself I began to feel melancholy over the fate of
Marguerite Gautier。
It will seem absurd to many people； but I have an unbounded
sympathy for women of this kind； and I do not think it necessary to
apologize for such sympathy。
One day； as I was going to the Prefecture for a passport； I saw in one
of the neighbouring streets a poor girl who was being marched along by
two policemen。 I do not know what was the matter。 All I know is that she
was weeping bitterly as she kissed an infant only a few months old； from
whom her arrest was to separate her。 Since that day I have never dared to
despise a woman at first sight。
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CHAPTER 2
The sale was to take place on the 16th。 A day's interval had been left
between the visiting days and the sale； in order to give time for taking
down the hangings； curtains； etc。 I had just returned from abroad。 It was
natural that I had not heard of Marguerite's death among the pieces of
news which one's friends always tell on returning after an absence。
Marguerite was a pretty woman； but though the life of such women makes
sensation enough； their death makes very little。 They are suns which set as
they rose； unobserved。 Their death； when they die young； is heard of by all
their lovers at the same moment； for in Paris almost all the lovers of a
well…known woman are friends。 A few recollections are exchanged； and
everybody's life goes on as if the incident had never occurred； without so
much as a tear。
Nowadays； at twenty…five； tears have become so rare a thing that they
are not to be squandered indiscriminately。 It is the most that can be
expected if the parents who pay for being wept over are wept over in
return for the price they pay。
As for me； though my initials did not occur on any of Marguerite's
belongings； that instinctive indulgence； that natural pity that I have already
confessed； set me thinking over her death； more perhaps than it was worth
thinking over。 I remembered having often met Marguerite in the Bois；
where she went regularly every day in a little blue coupe drawn by two
magnificent bays； and I had noticed in her a distinction quite apart from
other women of her kind； a distinction which was enhanced by a really
exceptional beauty。
These unfortunate creatures whenever they go out are always
accompanied by somebody or other。 As no man cares to make himself
conspicuous by being seen in their company； and as they are afraid of
solitude； they take with them either those who are not well enough off to
have a carriage； or one or another of those elegant； ancient ladies； whose
elegance is a little inexplicable； and to whom one can always go for
information in regard to the women whom they accompany。
In Marguerite's case it was quite different。 She was always alone when
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she drove in the Champs…Elysees； lying back in her carriage as much as
possible； dressed in furs in winter； and in summer wearing very simple
dresses； and though she often passed people whom she knew； her smile；
when she chose to smile； was seen only by them； and a duchess might
have smiled in just such a manner。 She did not drive to and fro like the
others； from the Rond…Point to the end of the Champs…Elysees。 She drove
straight to the Bois。 There she left her carriage； walked for an hour；
returned to her carriage； and drove rapidly home。
All these circumstances which I had so often witnessed came back to
my memory； and I regretted her death as one might regret the destruction
of a beautiful work of art。
It was impossible to see more charm in beauty than in that of
Marguerite。 Excessively tall and thin； she had in the fullest degree the art
of repairing this oversight of Nature by the mere arrangement of the things
she wore。 Her cashmere reached to the ground； and showed on each side
the large flounces of a silk dress； and the heavy muff which she held
pressed against her bosom was surrounded by such cunningly arranged
folds that the eye； however exacting； could find no fault with the contour
of the lines。 Her head； a marvel； was the object of the most coquettish care。
It was small； and her mother； as Musset would say； seemed to have made it
so in order to make it with care。
Set； in an oval of indescribable grace； two black eyes； surmounted by
eyebrows of so pure a curve that it seemed as if painted； veil these eyes
with lovely lashes； which； when drooped； cast their shadow on the rosy
hue of the cheeks； trace a delicate； straight nose； the nostrils a little open；
in an ardent aspiration toward the life of the senses； design a regular
mouth； with lips parted graciously over teeth as white as milk； colour the
skin with the down of a peach that no hand has touched； and you will have
the general aspect of that charming countenance。 The hair； black as jet；
waving naturally or not； was parted on the forehead in two large folds and
draped back over the head； leaving in sight just the tip of the ears； in
which there glittered two diamonds； worth four to five thousand francs
each。 How it was that her ardent life had left on Marguerite's face the
virginal； almost childlike expression； which characterized it； is a problem
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which we can but state； without attempting to solve it。
Marguerite had a marvellous portrait of herself； by Vidal； the only man
whose pencil could do her justice。 I had this portrait by me for a few days
after her death； and the likeness was so astonishing that it has helped to
refresh my memory in regard to some points which I might not otherwise
have remembered。
Some among