Nothing pained me so much as to see that I had not left the slightest trace of affection, not the smallest tenderness, in his heart. Yet I believe that I could have loved the little scoundrel,—that I could have devoted myself to him, in spite of everything, like a beast. Even to-day I think regretfully of his impudent, cruel, and pretty phiz, and of his perfumed skin. And I have often on my lips, from which, since then, so many lips ought to have effaced it, the acid taste, the burning sensation of his kiss. Oh! Monsieur Xavier! Monsieur Xavier!
One evening, before dinner, when he had returned to dress,—my! but how nice he looked in evening dress!—and as I was carefully arranging his affairs in the dressing-room, he asked me, without embarrassment or hesitation, and almost in a tone of command, precisely as he would have asked me for hot water:
"Have you five louis? I am in absolute need of five louis to-night. I will return them to you to-morrow."
That very morning Madame had paid me my wages. Did he know it?
"I have only ninety francs," I answered, a little ashamed,—ashamed of his question, perhaps, but more ashamed, I think, at not having the entire sum that he asked.
"That makes no difference," said he; "go and get me the ninety francs. I will return them to you to-morrow."
He took the money, and, by way of thanks, said in a dry, curt tone that froze my heart: "That's good!" Then, putting out his foot with a brutal movement, he commanded insolently:
"Tie my shoes. And be quick about it; I am in a hurry."
I looked at him sadly, imploringly: