How name a thing that is nameless? Was I good or bad? Was I distrustful or a fool? It is useless to reflect on it; it happened thus. One of our neighbors was a young woman by the name of Madame Daniel, she possessed some beauty, and still more coquetry; she was poor but tried to pass for rich; she would come to see us after dinner and always played a heavy game against us, although her losses embarrassed her; she sang but had no voice. In the solitude of that unknown village, where an unkind fate had buried her, she was consumed with an uncontrollable passion for pleasure. She talked of nothing but Paris, where she visited two or three times a year; she pretended to keep up with the fashions; my dear Brigitte assisted her as best she could, while smiling with pity. Her husband was employed by the government; he, once a year, would take her to the house of the chief of his department where, attired in her best, the little woman danced to her heart's content. She would return with shining eyes and tired body; she would come to us to tell of her prowess, and her success in assaulting the masculine heart. The rest of the time she read novels, never taking the trouble to look after her household affairs, which were not always in the best condition. Every time I saw her I laughed at her, finding nothing so ridiculous as the high life she thought she was leading; I would interrupt her description of a ball to inquire about her husband and her father-in-law, both of whom she detested, the one because he was her husband, and the other because he was only a peasant; in short, we were always disputing on some subject. In my evil moments, I thought of paying court to that woman just for the sake of annoying Brigitte. "You see," I said, "how perfectly Madame Daniel understands life! In her present sprightly humor could one desire a more charming mistress?" I then paid her the most extravagant compliments; her senseless chatting I described as unrestraint tempered by finesse, her pretentious exaggerations as a natural desire to please; was it her fault that she was poor? At least, she thought of nothing but pleasure and confessed it freely; she did not preach sermons herself, nor did she listen to them from others; I went so far as to tell Brigitte that she ought to adopt her as a model, and that she was just the kind of woman to please me.