“Ah! that is another fault of these men! to be jealous! and what good does it do them, I ask you? None at all, except to bore their wives! and when a woman is bored, why, bless my soul, she seeks some sort of distraction! I say, madame, as monsieur le baron had become so jealous, it seems to me that you should not have been very sorry to be left a widow.--Dear me! what lovely pink cheeks madame has to-day!” Madame de Grangeville smiled at herself in the mirror which stood before her; then, throwing herself back in an armchair, she said with a little sigh: “Ah! you don’t know all, Lizida. What I am going to tell you will surprise you tremendously! but you must be very discreet, and never mention it to anyone!” “Madame must know me, she knows that I am not a chatterbox; I would rather be chopped in pieces than betray a secret.” “Well, my dear, I am not a widow.” “Oho! is it possible? Madame’s husband is still alive?” “Yes, and what is more, I know from someone who has met him lately that he is living in Paris at this moment.” “Well, that is news indeed; the Baron de Grangeville is alive!” “Not the Baron de Grangeville, for that isn’t his name; I did not choose to bear his name any longer.” “I understand; so madame is not really a baroness then?” “I was a countess, Lizida, which is much better; for my husband is a count!” “Oh! excuse me, madame, excuse me! madame la comtesse! Ah! ‘madame la comtesse’! how lovely it is to say that! will you allow me to call you that, madame?” “No, you would become accustomed to it; besides, I don’t want that title any more, it would remind me of a time that I wish to forget.” “Oh! of course, since madame was so unhappy with her husband, that she was obliged to leave him--after many years, no doubt.” “Why, no; we had been married hardly three years when we separated.” “Only three years! That isn’t very long! Was he very unkind from the beginning, that husband of yours?” “Yes, he began to be very--very ridiculous at once!” “Madame had no children?” “No, I had none.” “That is very lucky, for sometimes there is a dispute as to who shall have the children, or who shall not have them; whereas, when there are none, it’s: ‘Adieu, bonsoir; we can’t live together any longer, let us part!’--Isn’t that the way it’s done, madame?” “Not quite so easy as that when you wish to separate according to law, and that is what we did, Monsieur de--my husband having his separate property and I mine, we both took our own.” “Ah! but if your husband should die, madame, would you inherit from him?” “No indeed, I should not get a sou.” “How unjust that is! Just think of that! A poor little woman gives herself to a man who makes her unhappy, and if he dies, she doesn’t inherit! And monsieur le comte, your husband, has at least twenty thousand francs a year, you say?” “Oh! in more than nineteen years that have passed, it seems that he has doubled his fortune at least, in undertakings, speculations.”