"Never."
"But you must know something about him and his circumstances. Was he a nobleman, or did he belong to the mercantile class?"
"I know nothing except that he was rich. He showered gifts upon my daughter. He would have taken her off the stage if she would have allowed him. He would have given her a house and gardens at Bougival instead of her little apartment on a third floor in the Rue Lafitte; but she loved the theatre, and she had a proud spirit, poor child—she had not the temper of la femme entretenue."
"What was the name of this person?"
"Monsieur Georges. I never heard of him by any other name."
"Did your daughter reciprocate his passion?"
"For a long time she seemed to do so. They were like lovers in a story. That lasted for years—from the time of her first appearance at the Porte-Saint-Martin, which was four years before her death. And then there came a change. Monsieur de Maucroix fell in love with her, followed her about everywhere, worshipped her. And he was young and handsome and fascinating, with the style, and manners of a prince. He had spent all his life in palaces; had been attached to the Emperor's household from his boyhood; had fought bravely through the war."
"Had you reason to know that Monsieur Georges was jealous of Monsieur de Maucroix?"
"Yes, my daughter told me that there had been scenes."
"Had the two men met?"