'Come, come,' said the actress, with a nasty laugh, 'it's no use trying to bluff me; but when you want a confidant, choose a better one than your friend Monsieur Larcher?' 'I don't understand you,' replied the poet, his heart beating fast; 'I have never made a confidant of him.' 'Then he must have invented the story of your being in love with Madame Moraines, that pretty, fair woman, the mistress of old Desforges. Well, that beats all!' exclaimed the cruel actress, with the bitter and ironical laugh of a creature whose pride has been deeply wounded. The unhappy Claude, who in his tender moments forgot what he thought of Colette in his lucid ones, had simply said to her on the morrow of René's visit, 'Poor Vincy is in love.' 'With whom?' she had asked. And he had told her. Colette was well acquainted with the rumours that were afloat concerning Suzanne and the Baron, thanks to the habit most fast men have of retailing Society scandal, be it true or not, to the _demi-mondaines_ whom they frequent. In alluding to René's love affair with Madame Moraines, the actress, beside herself with passion, had spoken almost at random, in order to lower Larcher in his friend's esteem. Seeing the effect that her words had produced on the latter, she continued the theme. To torture the man she had before her, and in whose features she could read the suffering she caused, was to satisfy to a certain extent her thirst for revenge against the other, knowing, as she did, how dear the poet was to Claude. 'Claude did not tell you that,' cried René, excitedly, 'and if he were here he would forbid you to slander a woman whom he knows to be worthy of your respect.' 'Of my respect!' repeated Colette, with a shrill, nervous laugh. 'What do you take me for, my dear fellow? Of my respect! Because she has a husband to hide her shame and help her spend the old man's money? Of my respect! Because she wants a higher wage than the girl in the street who hasn't the price of a dinner? Do you believe in them, these Society women? And look here,' she cried, rising in her fury and betraying her low extraction by the way in which she jerked her head and blinked her eyes, 'if you don't like me telling you that she is your mistress and the Baron's too, go and fight it out with Claude. It'll furnish my fine gentleman with copy. Are you beginning to have the same opinion about him as I have? Between you and me, my boy--just you keep your eyes open. Worthy of my respect! Ha! ha! ha! No--that's a bit too thick. Well, good-bye. This time I am going to dress in earnest. Mélanie!' she cried, opening the door, 'Mélanie! Give Claude my compliments,' she added, as a parting shot, 'and tell him that trifling with Colette is as dangerous as trifling with love.'