“That might be, as I should be very much hurt by so sudden and uncalled-for a departure. All the same I am sorry for you, as with your ideas you can neither go nor stay with any satisfaction. Nevertheless, you must do one or the other.” “I have made up my mind. I shall stay, and I am almost certain I shall not regret it.” “I am glad to hear that, but there is one point to which I wish to call your attention.” “What is that?” “I will tell you. Let us have no melancholy and no scruples.” “You shall not see me melancholy, I promise you; but kindly explain what you mean by the word ‘scruples.’” “Certainly. In its ordinary acceptation, the word ‘scruple’ signifies a malicious and superstitious whim, which pronounces an action which may be innocent to be guilty.” “When a course of action seems doubtful to me, I never look upon the worst side of it. Besides, it is my duty to look after myself and not other people.” “I see you have read a good deal.” “Reading is my greatest luxury. Without books I should find life unbearable.” “Have you any books?” “A good many. Do you understand English?” “Not a word.” “I am sorry for that, as the English books would amuse you.” “I do not care for romances.” “Nor do I. But you don’t think that there are only romances in English, do you? I like that. Why do you take me for such a lover of the romantic, pray?” “I like that, too. That pretty outburst is quite to my taste, and I am delighted to be the first to make you laugh.” “Pardon me if I laugh, but . . .” “But me no buts, my dear; laugh away just as you like, you will find that the best way to get over me. I really think, though, that you put your services at too cheap a rate.” “That makes me laugh again, as it is for you to increase my wages if you like.” “I shall take care that it is done.” I rose from table, not taken, but surprised, with this young woman, who seemed to be getting on my blind side. She reasoned well, and in this first interview she had made a deep impression on me. She was young, pretty, elegant, intellectual, and of distinguished manners; I could not guess what would be the end of our connection. I longed to speak to M. Lebel, to thank him for getting me such a marvel, and still more, to ask him some questions about her. After the supper had been taken away, she came to ask if I would have my hair put in curl papers. “It’s Le Duc’s business,” I answered, “but if you like, it shall be yours for the future.” She acquitted herself like an expert. “I see,” said I, “that you are going to serve me as you served Lady Montagu.” “Not altogether; but as you do not like melancholy, allow me to ask a favour.” “Do so, my dear.” “Please do not ask me to give you your bath.” “Upon my honour, I did not think of doing so. It would be scandalous. That’s Le Duc’s business.” “Pardon me, and allow me to ask another favour.” “Tell me everything you want.” “Allow me to have one of the door-keeper’s daughters to sleep with me.”