“Hallo! a nice name for a cashier’s daughter! I am aware that she once sent that poor Costeclar and his offer to—Chaillot. But she had resources then; whilst now—It’s stupid as it can be; but people have to eat!”
“There are still women, mademoiselle, capable of starving to death.”
M. de Tregars now felt satisfied. It seemed evident to him that they had somehow got wind of his intentions; that Mlle. de Thaller had been sent to feel the ground; and that she only attacked Mlle. Gilberte in order to irritate him, and compel him, in a moment of anger, to declare himself.
“Bash!” she said, “Mlle. Favoral is like all the others. If she had to select between the amiable Costeclar and a charcoal furnace, it is not the furnace she would take.”
At all times, Marius de Tregars disliked Mlle. Cesarine to a supreme degree; but at this moment, without the pressing desire he had to see the Baron and Baroness de Thaller, he would have withdrawn.
“Believe me, mademoiselle,” he uttered coldly. “Spare a poor girl stricken by a most cruel misfortune. Worse might happen to you.”
“To me! And what the mischief do you suppose can happen me?”
“Who knows?”
She started to her feet so violently, that she upset the piano-stool.
“Whatever it may be,” she exclaimed, “I say in advance, I am glad!”