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The constant sight of dissipation； precocious dissipation； in addition to
her constant sickly state； had extinguished in her mind all the knowledge
of good and evil that God had perhaps given her； but that no one had ever
thought of developing。 I shall always remember her； as she passed along
the boulevards almost every day at the same hour； accompanied by her
mother as assiduously as a real mother might have accompanied her
daughter。 I was very young then； and ready to accept for myself the easy
morality of the age。 I remember； however； the contempt and disgust which
awoke in me at the sight of this scandalous chaperoning。 Her face； too；
was inexpressibly virginal in its expression of innocence and of
melancholy suffering。 She was like a figure of Resignation。
One day the girl's face was transfigured。 In the midst of all the
debauches mapped out by her mother； it seemed to her as if God had left
over for her one happiness。 And why indeed should God； who had made
her without strength； have left her without consolation； under the
sorrowful burden of her life？ One day； then； she realized that she was to
have a child； and all that remained to her of chastity leaped for joy。 The
soul has strange refuges。 Louise ran to tell the good news to her mother。 It
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is a shameful thing to speak of； but we are not telling tales of pleasant sins；
we are telling of true facts； which it would be better； no doubt； to pass over
in silence； if we did not believe that it is needful from time to time to
reveal the martyrdom of those who are condemned without bearing；
scorned without judging； shameful it is； but this mother answered the
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。〃
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〃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。
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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。