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“Tullia knew Cursy well; she knew every weak point in his armor, knew also how to heal his wounds.

“A passion of this kind is inscrutable for any observer, even for a man who prides himself, as I do, on a certain expertness. It is everywhere unfathomable; the dark depths in it are darker than in any other mystery; the colors confused even in the highest lights.

“Cursy was an old playwright, jaded by the life of the theatrical world. He liked comfort; he liked a luxurious, affluent, easy existence; he enjoyed being a king in his own house; he liked to be host to a party of men of letters in a hotel resplendent with royal luxury, with carefully chosen works of art shining in the setting. Tullia allowed du Bruel to enthrone himself amid the tribe; there were plenty of journalists whom it was easy enough to catch and ensnare; and, thanks to her evening parties and a well-timed loan here and there, Cursy was not attacked too seriously–his plays succeeded. For these reasons he would not have separated from Tullia for an empire. If she had been unfaithful, he would probably have passed it over, on condition that none of his accustomed joys should be retrenched; yet, strange to say, Tullia caused him no twinges on this account. No fancy was laid to her charge; if there had been any, she certainly had been very careful of appearances.

” ‘My dear fellow,’ du Bruel would say, laying down the law to us on the boulevard, ‘there is nothing like one of these women who have sown their wild oats and got over their passions. Such women as Claudine have lived their bachelor life; they have been over head and ears in pleasure, and make the most adorable wives that could be wished; they have nothing to learn, they are formed, they are not in the least prudish; they are well broken in, and indulgent. So I strongly recommend everybody to take the “remains of a racer.” I am the most fortunate man on earth.’

“Du Bruel said this to me himself with Bixiou there to hear it.

” ‘My dear fellow,’ said the caricaturist, ‘perhaps he is right to be in the wrong.’

“About a week afterwards, du Bruel asked us to dine with him one Tuesday. That morning I went to see him on a piece of theatrical business, a case submitted to us for arbitration by the commission of dramatic authors. We were obliged to go out again; but before we started he went to Claudine’s room, knocked, as he always does, and asked for leave to enter.

” ‘We live in grand style,’ said he, smiling; ‘we are free. Each is independent.’

“We were admitted. Du Bruel spoke to Claudine. ‘I have asked a few people to dinner to-day–“

” ‘Just like you!’ cried she. ‘You ask people without speaking to me; I count for nothing here.–Now’ (taking me as arbitrator by a glance) ‘I ask you yourself. When a man has been so foolish as to live with a woman of my sort; for, after all, I was an opera dancer–yes, I ought always to remember that, if other people are to forget it–well, under those circumstances, a clever man seeking to raise his wife in public opinion would do his best to impose her upon the world as a remarkable woman, to justify the step he had taken by acknowledging that in some ways she was something more than ordinary women. The best way of compelling respect from others is to pay respect to her at home, and to leave her absolute mistress of the house. Well, and yet it is enough to awaken one’s vanity to see how frightened he is of seeming to listen to me. I must be in the right ten times over if he concedes a single point.’

“(Emphatic negative gestures from du Bruel at every other word.)