'It also appears,' continued Offarel, anxious to gratify that low taste for senseless gossip peculiar to a _bourgeois_ as soon as he gets hold of one of the innumerable calumnies to which well-known men are exposed--'it appears that he lives surrounded by a court of women who adore him, and that he has discovered an infallible method of making whatever he writes a success. He has a dozen copies of his proofs struck off at once, and takes one to each of the ladies he knows. They spread them out on their knees, and "_Mon petit_ Larcher here, and _mon petit_ Larcher there--you must alter this and you must cut out that." So he alters this and he cuts out that, and the ladies imagine that they have written his work for him.' 'I am not at all surprised,' said Madame Offarel; 'he looks like a bold deceiver.' 'I must confess,' replied Fresneau, 'that I don't like his writings much; but as for being a deceiver--that's another matter. My dear Madame Offarel, I assure you he's a perfect child. How it amuses me when the newspapers say that he knows women's hearts! I've always found him in love with the worst creatures on earth, whom he conscientiously believed to be angels, and who deceive him and fool him as much as they please. René told us the other day that he spends his time in dallying with little Colette Rigaud, who plays in the "Sigisbée"--a false hussy who'll worm his last shilling out of him.' 'Hush!' exclaimed Emilie, entering just in time to hear the end of this little speech, and placing her hand on her husband's lips. 'Monsieur Claude is a friend of ours, and I won't have him discussed. My brother desires to be excused for not saying "good night" to you all,' she added; 'they hadn't noticed that it was so late, and left in a hurry. And when am I to have that drawing of the last scene in the "Sigisbée?"' she asked, turning to the _sous-chef de bureau._ 'It's a bad time of year for water-colours,' replied the latter; 'it gets dark so soon, and we are overwhelmed with work--but you shall have it. Why, what's the matter, Rosalie? You are quite white.'