“Yes, and without coming to bid me good-bye!” interjected Denise with a profound sigh.
“I was afraid to see you again. I supposed that you were married. I have not forgotten what you told me in your garden when I came to call on you.”
Denise blushed, and Auguste continued:
“So I started. We had six thousand francs left; with economy, that was enough to carry us a long way. But it is so hard for me not to do foolish things!”
“And to be good!” said Denise under her breath.
Auguste smiled and continued:
“At Turin we were robbed by adventuresses of our whole fortune except a few gold pieces, with which we travelled to Rome. There I worked and earned a little money with my violin, and Bertrand gave fencing lessons. We went to Naples, where I met by mere chance a lady whom I had known in Paris; she interested herself in my behalf and procured me some rich pupils. We had lived there very comfortably for a year when I received two or three stiletto thrusts on account of an Italian damsel’s lovely eyes.”
“Mon Dieu!” cried Denise; “why did you need to love an Italian too?”
“I was driven to seek distraction. That adventure disgusted me with Italy, where, in truth, I saw no prospect of making a handsome fortune. I determined to go to England, where moderate talent often commands a very high price. Bertrand was still ready to go with me; we left Italy and reached London without mishap. There, after a very short time, having acquired the friendship of a man who frequented the first society, he made me the fashion, and I had more pupils than I could give lessons to. I charged very high rates, and I was overjoyed to find that I should be able some day to return to my native land with a good round sum of money. But, alas! I had the ill luck to become acquainted with a young English-woman.”
“Well! still another woman!” exclaimed Denise testily.