She once, as a mark of high favour, took me up-stairs, and, opening a secret door, showed me a hoard--a mass of coarse, large coin--about fifteen guineas, in five-franc pieces.

She loved this hoard as a bird loves its eggs.

These were her savings.

She would come and talk to me about them with an infatuated and persevering dotage, strange to behold in a person not yet twenty-five.
The Parisienne, on the other hand, was prodigal and profligate (in disposition, that is: as to action, I do not know).

That latter quality showed its snake-head to me but once, peeping out very cautiously.