"Lovers and flatterers and chance acquaintances—what do I know? I can't go out without being followed, and it's sickening!"
"Come, Mademoiselle Rosette, tell me frankly: have you had many—lovers?"
"Lovers! I should think not! No, I've never had but one."
"That's very modest! And you loved him dearly, I suppose?"
"Why, yes."
"Why did you separate?"
She looked down at the floor, heaved a profound sigh, and murmured:
"Alas! he died, my poor Léon!"
"Oh! forgive me for reminding you of so sad a loss."
"Yes; he died—a little more than a year ago."