Madeleine had speedily adapted herself to her duties as dresser to Mademoiselle Blanche, and her nightly trips to the theatre were the most exciting experiences of her life. After seeing the plunge from the top of the Circus, however, she had refused to look at it again. "It freezes my blood," she would repeat, whenever Jules referred to it. "It's too horrible!"
"But she makes a lot of money by it," Jules insisted.
"She would do much better to stay poor," Madeleine replied, with a tartness that was rare with her and made Jules burst out laughing.
"Madeleine," he said, confidentially. "Madeleine, come over here."
Madeleine bent her head towards him with a smile on her face.
"Madeleine, do you think there's any one—any one that she cares about particularly—any one you know? Eh?"
Madeleine's wrinkles deepened, as the smile spread over her face and lighted her faded eyes.
"Ah, Monsieur Jules, she is very fond of her sisters. She is always talking about them, especially about la petite Jeanne. Then she's very fond of her mamma, too, of course."
"Madeleine, you're trying to plague me now. You know I don't mean that. I mean any—any—?"
"Any gentleman, Monsieur Jules?" the old woman asked.