It was her own version that she told, somewhat adapted, like all autobiographies: a childhood happy and petted, an environment of prosperity and luxury; then the ruin of her father, overtaken by his passion for gambling, a ruin that brought out the worst in him and led rapidly to idleness, then drunkenness and fatal illness: next her retirement to the country with her forlorn and feeble mother, and already the revolt within herself at her monotonous existence, the fever of desire and envy that consumed her girl’s heart. She had inherited her father’s imprudence and generosity, but was reduced to giving music lessons to the children of the surrounding villas and waiting impatiently for the lover that should set her free. Maurice interrupted her recital to murmur: “It was misery.” She believed that he pitied her, and she smiled on him, thanking him for his compassion. She was absorbed in her recollections, and did not see the strict attention that he was concentrating on her every word. “Almost,” she replied. “And already you were pretty?” “I don’t think so. I was so thin. A grapevine.” But she understood herself very well, for she added in a tone of mischief: “Good for kindling fires.” Then began the pursuit of her by Mr. Frasne. With his pop-eyes and his set ways, which she could feel underneath his insipid airs, her only sentiment toward him was one of repulsion. She was revolted by it all. He was the first of all her suitors to ask for her hand. He possessed a comfortable fortune, an honourable position in Paris; he could, if he liked, acquire a lawyer’s practice at Grenoble or in some neighbouring village. It was the marriage of convenience in all its horrors. She detested poverty; her mother, who was not accustomed to it, objected to it still more. Old people want to live, and mere love does not move them. All her relations got round the girl. “And so I sold myself,” she concluded. He had not interrupted her once. With heart beating, he followed her throughout, like one who skirts the edge of an abyss. When she ended her story with this climax he hurled the words at her which came in an instant to his lips, brutally: “And your dot?” “Wait, you’ll see.”