Clytie looked down upon her wonderingly, her heart beating. Her maidenhood urged her to fly; a higher sense of life bade her stay a moment by the sobbing figure. She had never, to her knowledge, been near to one of the great unclassed--still less spoken. She remembered the few cynical words of the man; they seemed to give her a pain at the heart akin to nausea. She remembered the pleading tones: “_Je t'aime Je t'aime bien!_” and her pity went forth upon the woman. “I don't ask you to tell me,” she said very gently. “But we may talk a little, mayn't we? Perhaps it may ease you--a woman--the same age,”--Clytie stumbled in the foreign language,--“and perhaps not so well brought up--after all, a woman.” “Oh, mademoiselle, you do not understand. This life!” her shoulders shivered expressively. “After all, it is bearable; but when, with all that, one loves--ah!” “He is not worth it,” cried Clytie. “He is a scoundrel--I know what he is!” The girl raised her face quickly. “You know him? You know Armand? Ah, no; you spoke at random. Yes, he is base, cruel, but that does not prevent it. Mademoiselle, you are good, you are sweet. It is not many who would have spoken. You will let me sit here near you for a little? Ah, _mon Dieu_,” she went on rapidly, “you cannot imagine what it is--never, never to talk to a woman whom one can respect, and who may not betray you; and then the only persons one can respect are the men, who despise one. And even they--one can love them, but they are cowardly, hard, selfish!” “There are some good men,” observed Clytie. “That may be,” returned the other, finally drying her eyes, and putting up her hand to her hair in tidying touches--“that may be, but we don't often see them. Oh, mademoiselle, I know well that I should be ashamed of showing you what I am, but when you touched my shoulder it was like a good sister of the convent,”--Clytie smiled in spite of herself at the comparison,--“and it touched my heart.” “And I too have a confession to make,” said Clytie, gently interrupting. “This morning--I overheard--my room is next to yours----” “Ah, it was you who shut the window?” “Yes. So I know, mademoiselle--at least I can judge. And are you quite alone now?” The girl shrugged her shoulders. “What would you have? He has gone, and I must go too. One does not amuse oneself here alone.” “And where are you going?”