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he daughter that they had already scarce enough for two； and would certainly not have enough for three； that such children are useless； and a lying…in is so much time lost。
Next day a midwife； of whom all we will say is that she was a friend of the mother； visited Louise； who remained in bed for a few days； and then got up paler and feebler than before。
Three months afterward a man took pity on her and tried to heal her； morally and physically； but the last shock had been too violent； and Louise died of it。 The mother still lives； how？ God knows。
This story returned to my mind while I looked at the silver toilet things； and a certain space of time must have elapsed during these reflections； for no one was left in the room but myself and an attendant； who； standing near the door； was carefully watching me to see that I did not pocket anything。
I went up to the man； to whom I was causing so much anxiety。 〃Sir；〃 I said； 〃can you tell me the name of the person who formerly lived here？〃
〃Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier。〃
I knew her by name and by sight。
〃What！〃 I said to the attendant； 〃Marguerite Gautier is dead？〃
〃Yes； sir。〃
〃When did she die？〃
〃Three weeks ago； I believe。〃
〃And why are the rooms on view？〃
〃The creditors believe that it will send up the prices。 People can see beforehand the effect of the things； you see that induces them to buy。〃
〃She was in debt； then？〃
〃To any extent； sir。〃
〃But the sale will cover it？〃
〃And more too。〃
〃Who will get what remains over？〃
〃Her family。〃
〃She had a family？〃
〃It seems so。〃
〃Thanks。〃
The attendant； reassured as to my intentions； touched his hat； and I went out。
〃Poor girl！〃 I said to myself as I returned home； 〃she must have had a sad death； for； in her world； one has friends only when one is perfectly well。〃 And in spite of myself I began to feel melancholy over the fate of Marguerite Gautier。
It will seem absurd to many people； but I have an unbounded sympathy for women of this kind； and I do not think it necessary to apologize for such sympathy。
One day； as I was going to the Prefecture for a passport； I saw in one of the neighbouring streets a poor girl who was being marched along by two policemen。 I do not know what was the matter。 All I know is that she was weeping bitterly as she kissed an infant only a few months old； from whom her arrest was to separate her。 Since that day I have never dared to despise a woman at first sight。
Chapter 2
The sale was to take place on the 16th。 A day's interval had been left between the visiting days and the sale； in order to give time for taking down the hangings； curtains； etc。 I had just returned from abroad。 It was natural that I had not heard of Marguerite's death among the pieces of news which one's friends always tell on returning after an absence。 Marguerite was a pretty woman； but though the life of such women makes sensation enough； their death makes very little。 They are suns which set as they rose； unobserved。 Their death； when they die young； is heard of by all their lovers at the same moment； for in Paris almost all the lovers of a well…known woman are friends。 A few recollections are exchanged； and everybody's life goes on as if the incident had never occurred； without so much as a tear。
Nowadays； at twenty…five； tears have become so rare a thing that they are not to be squandered indiscriminately。 It is the most that can be expected if the parents who pay for being wept over are wept over in return for the price they pay。
As for me； though my initials did not occur on any of Marguerite's belongings； that instinctive indulgence； that natural pity that I have already confessed； set me thinking over her death； more perhaps than it was worth thinking over。 I remembered having often met Marguerite in the Bois； where she went regularly every day in a little blue coupe drawn by two magnificent bays； and I had noticed in her a distinction quite apart from other women of her kind； a distinction which was enhanced by a really exceptional beauty。
These unfortunate creatures whenever they go out are always accompanied by somebody or other。 As no man cares to make himself conspicuous by being seen in their company； and as they are afraid of solitude； they take with them either those who are not well enough off to have a carriage； or one or another of those elegant； ancient ladies； whose elegance is a little inexplicable； and to whom one can always go for information in regard to the women whom they accompany。
In Marguerite's case it was quite different。 She was always alone when she drove in the Champs…Elysees； lying back in her carriage as much as possible； dressed in furs in winter； and in summer wearing very simple dresses； and though she often passed people whom she knew； her smile； when she chose to smile； was seen only by them； and a duchess might have smiled in just such a manner。 She did not drive to and fro like the others； from the Rond…Point to the end of the Champs…Elysees。 She drove straight to the Bois。 There she left her carriage； walked for an hour； returned to her carriage； and drove rapidly home。
All these circumstances which I had so often witnessed came back to my memory； and I regretted her death as one might regret the destruction of a beautiful work of art。
It was impossible to see more charm in beauty than in that of Marguerite。 Excessively tall and thin； she had in the fullest degree the art of repairing this oversight of Nature by the mere arrangement of the things she wore。 Her cashmere reached to the ground； and showed on each side the large flounces of a silk dress； and the heavy muff which she held pressed against her bosom was surrounded by such cunningly arranged folds that the eye； however exacting； could find no fault with the contour of the lines。 Her head； a marvel； was the object of the most coquettish care。 It was small； and her mother； as Musset would say； seemed to have made it so in order to make it with care。
Set； in an oval of indescribable grace； two black eyes； surmounted by eyebrows of so pure a curve that it seemed as if painted； veil these eyes with lovely lashes； which； when drooped； cast their shadow on the rosy hue of the cheeks； trace a delicate； straight nose； the nostrils a little open； in an ardent aspiration toward the life of the senses； design a regular mouth； with lips parted graciously over teeth as white as milk； colour the skin with the down of a peach that no hand has touched； and you will have the general aspect of that charming countenance。 The hair； black as jet； waving naturally or not； was parted on the forehead in two large folds and draped back over the head； leaving in sight just the tip of the ears； in which there glittered two diamonds； worth four to five thousand francs each。 How it was that her ardent life had left on Marguerite's face the virginal； almost childlike expression； which characterized it； is a problem which we can but state； without attempting to solve it。
Marguerite had a marvellous portrait of herself； by Vidal； the only man whose pencil could do her justice。 I had this portrait by me for a few days after her death； and the likeness was so astonishing