"One word more. When you see me fairly engaged in conversation with her, please be so good as to go and overlook your work-people in the shops. What I have to say will not interest you in the least." "I understand." "But no trickery, you know. I know where the closet of your bedroom is, well enough to be sure that everything that is said here may be overheard in it." Mme. Charman's emissary opened the door; there was a loud rustling of silks along the corridor; and Jenny appeared in all her glory. She was no longer the fresh and pretty minx whom Hector had known--the provoking large-eyed Parisian demoiselle, with haughty head and petulant grace. A single year had withered her, as a too hot summer does the roses, and had destroyed her fragile beauty beyond recall. She was not twenty, and still it was hard to discern that she had been charming, and was yet young. For she had grown old like vice; her worn features and hollow cheeks betrayed the dissipations of her life; her eyes had lost their long, languishing lids; her mouth had a pitiful expression of stupefaction; and absinthe had broken the clear tone of her voice. She was richly dressed in a new robe, with a great deal of lace and a jaunty hat; yet she had a wretched expression; she was all besmeared with rouge and paint. When she came in she seemed very angry. "What an idea!" she cried, without taking the trouble to bow to anyone; "what sense is there in sending for me to come here in this way, almost by force, and by a very impudent young woman?" Mme. Charman hastened to meet her old customer, embraced her in spite of herself, and pressed her to her heart. "Why, don't be so angry, dear--I thought you would be delighted and overwhelm me with thanks." "I? What for?" "Because, my dear girl, I had a surprise in store for you. Ah, I'm not ungrateful; you came here yesterday and settled your account with me, and to-day I mean to reward you for it. Come, cheer up; you're going to have a splendid chance, because just at this moment I happen to have a piece of exquisite velvet--" "A pretty thing to bring me here for!" "All silk, my dear, at thirty francs the yard. Ha, 'tis wonderfully cheap, the best--" "Eh! What care I for your 'chance?' Velvet in July--are you making fun of me?" "Let me show it to you, now." "Never! I am expected to dinner at Asnieres, and so--" She was about to go away despite Mme. Charman's attempts to detain her, when M. Lecoq thought it was time to interfere. "Why, am I mistaken?" cried he, as if amazed; "is it really Miss Jenny whom I have the honor of seeing?" She scanned him with a half-angry, half-surprised air, and said: "Yes, it is I; what of it?" "What! Are you so forgetful? Don't you recognize me?" "No, not at all." "Yet I was one of your admirers once, my dear, and used to breakfast with you when you lived near the Madeleine; in the count's time, you know."