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do!

      MME. DE RONCHARD [_returns_]

      I will not! If it were simply a case of teasing me, I could let it pass, for I can take care of myself; but you have done your sister a wrong, and that is unforgivable.

      L?ON

      How?

      MME. DE RONCHARD [_stands_ R. _of table and drums on it with her fingers_]

      Why, this marriage! You brought it about.

      L?ON [_imitates her action at_ L. _of table_]

      That is true, and I did right. Moreover, I shall never be tired asserting that what I did was right.

      MME. DE RONCHARD [_still tapping on the table_]

      And for my part I shall never be tired of saying that Gilberte has not married the right man.

      L?ON [_still tapping_]

      Well, what kind of man do you think Gilberte ought to have married?

      MME. DE RONCHARD

      A man of position, a public official, or an eminent physician, or--an engineer.

      L?ON

      Do you mean a theatrical engineer?

      MME. DE RONCHARD

      There are other kinds of engineers. Then, above all, she should not have married a handsome man.

      L?ON

      Do you reproach Jean for his good looks? If you do, my dear Aunt, there are a good many men in the world who must plead guilty. Suppose, even, that a man has no need of good looks, it does not follow that he ought to be ugly.

      MME. DE RONCHARD [_sits on a little stool by the table, clasps her hands, and looks upward_]

      My husband was handsome, nay, superb, a veritable guardsman--and I know how much it cost me.

      L?ON

      It might have cost you a great deal more if he had been ugly! [Mme. de Ronchard _rises to go away_.] Besides Jean is not only good-looking but he is good. He is not vain, but modest; and he has genius, which is manifesting itself more and more every day. He will certainly attain membership in the Institute. That would please you, would it not? That would be worth more than a simple engineer; and, moreover, every woman finds him charming, except you.

      MME. DE RONCHARD

      That's the very thing for which I blame him. He is too good and too honest. He has already painted the portraits of a crowd of women, and he will continue to do that. They will be alone with him in his studio for hours at a time, and everybody knows what goes on in those studios.

      L?ON

      You have been accustomed to go there, my dear Aunt?

      MME. DE RONCHARD [_dreamily_]

      Oh, yes. [_Corrects herself_.] I mean to say, once I went to Horace Vernet's studio.

      L?ON

      The painter of battle scenes!

      MME. DE RONCHARD

      Well, what I say of Jean, I say of all artists--that they ought not to be allowed to marry into a family of lawyers and magistrates, such as ours. Such doings always bring trouble. I ask you as a man, is it possible to be a good husband under such conditions--among a crowd of women continually around you who do nothing but unrobe and re-dress themselves, whether they be clients or models (_pointedly_), especially models? [Mme. de Ronchard _rises and_ L?on _is silent_.] I said _models_, L?on.

      L?ON

      I understand you, Aunt. You make a very pointed and delicate allusion to Jean's past. Well, what of it? If he did have one of his models for a mistress, he loved her, and loved her sincerely for three years--

      MME. DE RONCHARD

      You mean to tell me a man can love such women?

      L?ON

      Every woman can be loved, my dear Aunt; and this woman certainly deserved to be loved more than most women.

      MME. DE RONCHARD

      A great thing, truly, for a model to be pretty! That is the essential thing, I should think.

      L?ON

      Whether it be essential or not, it is nevertheless very nice to be pretty. But this girl was better than pretty, for she had a nature which was exceptionally tender, good, and sincere.

      MME. DE RONCHARD

      Well, then, why did he leave her?

      L?ON

      What! Can you ask me such a question?--you, who know so much about the world and the world's opinions? [_Folds his arms_.] Would you advocate free love?

      MME. DE RONCHARD [_indignantly_]

      You know I would not.

      L?ON [_seriously_]

      Listen. The truth is, that it happened to Jean as it has happened to many others besides him--that is to say, there was a pretty little nineteen-year-old girl whom he met, whom he loved, and with whom he established an intimacy little by little--an intimacy which lasted one, two, three years--the usual duration of that sort of thing. Then, as usually happens, there came a rupture--a rupture which is sometimes violent, sometimes gentle, but which is never altogether good-natured. Then also, as usual in such cases, each went a separate way--the eternal ending, which is always prosaic, because it is true to life. But the one thing that distinguishes Jean's _liaison_ from the usual affair is the truly admirable character of the girl in the case.

      MME. DE RONCHARD

      Oh, admirable character! Mademoiselle--tell me, what is the name of this young lady? If you mentioned it I have forgotten it. Mademoiselle Mus-- Mus--

      L?ON

      Musotte, Auntie; little Musotte.

      MME. DE RONCHARD

      Musette! Pshaw, that's a very common name. It reminds me of the Latin quarter and of Bohemian life. [_With disgust._] Musette!

      L?ON

      No, no; not Musette. Musotte, with an O instead of an E. She is named Musotte because of her pretty little nose; can't you understand? Musotte, the name explains itself.

      MME. DE RONCHARD [_with contempt_]

      Oh, yes; a _fin-de-si?cle_ Musotte, which is still worse. Musotte is not a name.

      L?ON

      My dear Aunt, it is only a nickname. The nick-name of a model. Her true name is Henriette L?v?que.

      MME. DE RONCHARD [_puzzled_]

      L?v?que?

      L?ON

      Yes, L?v?que. What does this questioning mean? It is just as I told you, or else I know nothing about it. Now, Henriette L?v?que, or Musotte, if you prefer that term, has not only been faithful to Jean during the course of her love affair with him; has not only been devoted and adoring, and full of a tenderness which was ever watchful, but at the very hour of her rupture with him, she gave proof of her greatness of soul. She accepted everything without reproach, without recrimination; the poor little girl understood everything--understood that all was finished and finished forever. With the intuition of a woman, she felt that Jean's love for my sister was real and deep, she bowed her head to circumstances and she departed, accepting, without a murmur, the loneliness that Jean's action brought upon her. She carried her fidelity to the end, for she would have slain herself sooner than become [_hesitating out of respect for_ Mme. de Ronchard] a courtesan. And this I _know_.

      MME. DE RONCHARD

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