Madame
Dandelard was a little Italian lady who had married a Frenchman who
proved to be a rake and a brute and the torment of her life. Her husband
had spent all her money, and then, lacking the means of obtaining more
expensive pleasures, had taken, in his duller hours, to beating her.
She had a blue spot somewhere, which she showed to several persons,
including Bellegarde. She had obtained a separation from her husband,
collected the scraps of her fortune (they were very meagre) and come to
live in Paris, where she was staying at a hotel garni. She was always
looking for an apartment, and visiting, inquiringly, those of other
people. She was very pretty, very childlike, and she made very
extraordinary remarks. Bellegarde had made her acquaintance, and the
source of his interest in her was, according to his own declaration, a
curiosity as to what would become of her. "She is poor, she is pretty,
and she is silly," he said, "it seems to me she can go only one way.
It's a pity, but it can't be helped. I will give her six months. She has
nothing to fear from me, but I am watching the process. I am curious to
see just how things will go. Yes, I know what you are going to say: this
horrible Paris hardens one's heart. But it quickens one's wits, and it
ends by teaching one a refinement of observation! To see this little
woman's little drama play itself out, now, is, for me, an intellectual
pleasure.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163