“Ah!” exclaimed la Peyrade.
“Yes, at that time I had in the environs of Ville d’Avray a very beautiful place, with park and coverts and a stream for fishing; but as I was alone I found it dull, and several of these ladies and gentlemen said to me, ‘Madame Louchard, why don’t you organize parties in the style of picnics?’”
“Madame Louchard!” repeated la Peyrade, “are you any relation to Monsieur Louchard of the commercial police?”
“His wife, monsieur, but legally separated from him. A horrid man who wants me to go back to him; but I, though I’m ready to forgive most things, I can’t forgive a want of respect; just imagine that he dared to raise his hand against me!”
“Well,” said la Peyrade, trying to bring her back to the matter in hand; “you organized those picnics, and Madame de Godo—I mean Madame Komorn—”
“Was one of my first lodgers. It was there she made acquaintance with an Italian, a handsome man, and rich, a political refugee, but one of the lofty kind. You understand it didn’t suit my purposes to have intrigues going on in my house; still the man was so lovable, and so unhappy because he couldn’t make Madame Komorn like him, that at last I took an interest in this particular love affair; which produced a pot of money for madame, for she managed to get immense sums out of that Italian. Well, would you believe that when—being just then in great need—I asked her to assist me with a trifling little sum, she refused me point-blank, and left my house, taking her lover with her, who, poor man, can’t be thankful for the acquaintance now.”
“Why not? What happened to him?” asked la Peyrade.
“It happened to him that this serpent knows every language in Europe; she is witty and clever to the tips of her fingers, but more manoeuvring than either; so, being, as it appears, in close relations to the police, she gave the government a lot of papers the Italian left about carelessly, on which they expelled him from France.”
“Well, after his departure, Madame Komorn—”
“Since then, she has had a good many adventures and upset several fortunes, and I thought she had left Paris. For the last two months she was nowhere to be seen, but three days ago she reappeared, more brilliant than ever. My advice to monsieur is not to trust himself in that direction; and yet, monsieur looks to me a Southerner, and Southerners have passions; perhaps what I have told him will only serve to spur them up. However, being warned, there’s not so much danger, and she is a most fascinating creature—oh! very fascinating. She used to love me very much, though we parted such ill-friends; and just now, seeing me here, she came over and asked my address, and said she should come and see me.”