So my cousin Philoxene, enticed by the bait of a highly improbable fortune, has told me a good many things." "The duchess is vindictive ?" said La Briere.
"Vindictive as a queen, Philoxene says; she has never yet forgiven the duke for being nothing more than her husband," replied Butscha.

"She hates as she loves.

I know all about her character, her tastes, her toilette, her religion, and her manners; for Philoxene stripped her for me, soul and corset.

I went to the opera expressly to see her, and I didn't grudge the ten francs it cost me--I don't mean the play.

If my imaginary cousin had not told me the duchess had seen her fifty summers, I should have thought I was over-generous in giving her thirty; she has never known a winter, that duchess!" "Yes," said La Briere, "she is a cameo--preserved because it is stone.
Canalis would be in a bad way if the duchess were to find out what he is doing here; and I hope, monsieur, that you will go no further in this business of spying, which is unworthy of an honest man." "Monsieur," said Butscha, proudly; "for me Modeste is my country.