“Not by any means, monsieur; she’s a young woman—very young.”
“Oho! and pretty?”
“Yes, very pretty—as well as I can see under the big bonnet she always wears.”
“What! a young and pretty woman living all alone? no lovers, no husband?”
“No one, I tell you! Oh! if anyone came, I should know it.”
“But she must go out sometimes?”
“In the morning, very early, to buy what she needs; you’re still asleep, that’s why you don’t meet her. After that, she never stirs from her room.”
“It’s very strange!”
“I’ve tried to talk with her now and then; but she won’t talk; it’s impossible to get two words out of her. However, as she behaves decently and pays on the dot, there’s nothing to be said. But it seems to me that people ought to be obliged to let you know who they are.”
I could not help smiling at my concierge’s reflection. What she had told me of my neighbor aroused my curiosity a little, and at first I felt a desire to know her; but why should I annoy the young woman? she did not like society; perhaps she had her reasons for avoiding it. I determined to respect her retirement.