Meantime a young man had entered, almost a child. Very slender, very blonde, with a very white skin underlying the dark beginnings of a beard, scarcely eighteen, he was as pretty as a love. He wore an entirely new and elegant jacket, which set off his trim and slender bust, and a pink cravat. He was the son of the janitor in the next house. He came, it seems, every evening. Eugénie adored him, was mad over him. Every day she put aside, in a big basket, tureens full of _bouillon_, fine slices of meat, bottles of wine, cakes, and delicious fruits, which the little one carried to his parents. "Why are you so late to-night?" asked Eugénie. The little one excused himself in a drawling voice. "I had to look out for the lodge. Mamma had gone on an errand." "Your mother, your mother ... are you telling me the truth, young scamp?" She sighed, and, with her eyes gazing into the child's eyes, and her two hands resting on his shoulders, she continued, in a mournful tone: "When you are late, I am always afraid something has happened. I do not want you to be late, my darling. You will say to your mother that, if that continues,--well, I will give you nothing more ... for her." Then, with quivering nostrils and her whole body shaken by a thrill, she said: "How pretty you are, my love! Oh! your little phiz! your little phiz! Why did you not wear your pretty yellow shoes? I want you to look your best when you come to see me. And those eyes, those big eyes, you little brigand! Ah! I'll bet they have been looking at another woman. And your lips! your lips! What have those lips been doing?" He smilingly reassured her, with a slightly swaying motion of his body: "No, indeed, I assure you, Nini, that's straight. Mamma had gone on an errand,--yes, truly." Eugénie repeated several times: "Oh! you scamp, you scamp, I do not want you to be looking at other women. Your little phiz for me, your little mouth for me, your big eyes for me! Say, do you really love me?" "Oh, yes, surely." "Say it again." "Oh! surely." She leaped upon his neck, and, panting, led him into the adjoining room, stammering words of love. William said to me: "How she holds him! And what a pile this little chap costs her! Last week she gave him a complete new outfit. You would not love me like that." This scene had stirred me deeply, and I promptly vowed a sister's friendship for the poor Eugénie. This boy resembled M. Xavier. At least there was a moral similarity between these two beings,--so pretty, though so rotten. And this reminder made me sad,--oh! infinitely sad! I saw myself again in M. Xavier's room, the night when I gave him the ninety francs. Oh! your little phiz! your little mouth! your big eyes! They were the same cold and cruel eyes, there was the same undulation of the body, there was the same vice shining in the pupils and imparting a sort of benumbing poison to the lips.