In four years, this model young man, this advocate of immaculate reputation, this austere moralist, had squandered not only his own fortune on her, but Madame Gerdy's also.

He loved her madly, without reflection, without measure, with his eyes shut.

At her side, he forgot all prudence, and thought out loud.

In her boudoir, he dropped his mask of habitual dissimulation, and his vices displayed themselves, at ease, as his limbs in a bath.

He felt himself so powerless against her, that he never essayed to struggle.