"Never. If he had been the Emperor he could not have been more mysterious in his goings to and fro. I was never allowed to see him." "Was he often at your daughter's apartment?" "Very often. He used to go there after the theatre. He was devoted to her. There were some who believed that he was her husband, that he loved her too passionately to deny her anything she might ask. When she was not acting he took her abroad, to Italy--to Spain. If it were only for a holiday for a fortnight, he would carry her off to some remote village in the Italian Alps or the Pyrenees. I used to tell her that he was ashamed of his love for her, or he would not have hidden her in those distant places. He would have taken her to Dieppe or Arcachon, where she would have been seen and admired." "Did you ever find out who this person is?" "Never." "But you must know something about him and his circumstances. Was he a nobleman, or did he belong to the mercantile class?" "I know nothing except that he was rich. He showered gifts upon my daughter. He would have taken her off the stage if she would have allowed him. He would have given her a house and gardens at Bougival instead of her little apartment on a third floor in the Rue Lafitte; but she loved the theatre, and she had a proud spirit, poor child--she had not the temper of _la femme entretenue_." "What was the name of this person?" "Monsieur Georges. I never heard of him by any other name." "Did your daughter reciprocate his passion?" "For a long time she seemed to do so. They were like lovers in a story. That lasted for years--from the time of her first appearance at the Porte-Saint-Martin, which was four years before her death. And then there came a change. Monsieur de Maucroix fell in love with her, followed her about everywhere, worshipped her. And he was young and handsome and fascinating, with the style, and manners of a prince. He had spent all his life in palaces; had been attached to the Emperor's household from his boyhood; had fought bravely through the war." "Had you reason to know that Monsieur Georges was jealous of Monsieur de Maucroix?" "Yes, my daughter told me that there had been scenes." "Had the two men met?" "I think not." "How long had Monsieur de Maucroix been an avowed admirer of your daughter?" "Only a few months--since Easter, I think. My granddaughter used to see him when she was staying with her aunt." "Could you reconcile it to your conscience to allow your grandchild to live in the house of an aunt who was leading--well, we will say a doubtful life?" "There was no harm in my daughter's life that I knew of. Monsieur Georges may have been my daughter's husband. There is no reason that he should not have been. At her lodgings she was known as Madame Georges. It was under that name she travelled when she went abroad." "But you had never heard of any marriage--at the Mairie or elsewhere? And, again, your daughter could not be married without your consent."