"Ah! the sly hussy! I admit that I looked a good deal like a sparrow; but I don't feel it now, I rubbed myself so hard yesterday! I used up two bottles of cosmetic for the skin, and three phials of Ceylon oil; so that I have recovered all my elasticity this morning. Tell me, do you know that man who was with me just now?" "No." "That was Monsieur de Grandmaison." "I never heard of him." "He's a very rich man, enormously rich!" "He's enormously ugly!" "He's an ex-financier, contractor, promoter." "Yes, I understand." "He gives delightful balls." "Not for himself, surely." "Oh! he's still quite a rake." "He doesn't look it." "Because he drags his leg a little; but that doesn't prevent his making conquests." "From buying them, you mean." "That's what I mean; but it all comes to the same thing. Between ourselves, I admit that he didn't invent gunpowder, and that his education is confined to the rules of subtraction and multiplication, which he understands perfectly. But still, for all that, he has the prettiest women in Paris." "That doesn't speak well for the prettiest women in Paris." "He was telling me just now of a new intrigue he is on the point of consummating. Ha! ha! it's most amusing! She's a ravishing young beauty, and he is going to steal her from a young man." "Some kept woman." "It seems that the little one is worth her price, and that she hangs back; and then, too, the young man, who is jealous no doubt, keeps her very close. For all that, they've seen each other--at the window, in the first place; then, letters and propositions. Grandmaison, who knows how to manage such affairs, talked about cashmere shawls and diamonds! The little one's a coquette, and it seems that her young lover keeps her on a bourgeois footing. The poor fellow will soon be plundered." I had a feeling of uneasiness, which as yet I dared not analyze; Raymond's story, to which I had listened mechanically, interested me deeply at last; the words _window_, _cashmere shawls_, and _diamonds_ aroused vague suspicions in my mind, which I blushed to harbor when I recalled Monsieur de Grandmaison's age and appearance. My self-esteem refused to admit that such a rival could be preferred to me; but a secret voice told me that self-esteem often deceives us. I determined to ascertain the truth, and I proceeded to ask Raymond certain questions, which, I was sure, would prove to me that I was wrong to torment myself. "Where does this Monsieur de Grandmaison live?" "Rue Caumartin, in a magnificent house that he owns; it's just at the end of the street, near the boulevard." I felt a shudder run through my whole body, my gorge rose, a weight descended on my breast--all in a second, and as the result of a mere word. I continued my questions, however, affecting the utmost tranquillity. "And this young beauty?"