He was clever and bold, but I did not grudge him that--no, he was good to the poor; he gave away hundreds of francs in charity.

I have seen him often--I saw him married." And here his parchment face screwed itself into an expression of the most malignant cruelty.

"Pah! I hate his wife--a fair, soft thing, like a white snake! I used to watch them both from the corners of the streets as they drove along in their fine carriage, and I wondered how it would all end, whether he or she would gain the victory first.

I wanted HIM to win; I would have helped him to kill her, yes! But the saints have made a mistake this time, for he is dead, and that she-devil has all.
Oh, yes! God and the plague have done a foolish thing for once." I listened to the old wretch with deepening aversion, yet with some curiosity too.

Why should he hate my wife?
I thought, unless, indeed, he hated all youth and beauty, as was probably the case.