Good-night." Without adding another word, or listening to what the young man stammered out, Marguerite returned to the room and slammed the door.
Nanine entered a moment after.
"Now understand," said Marguerite, "you are always to say to that idiot that I am not in, or that I will not see him.

I am tired out with seeing people who always want the same thing; who pay me for it, and then think they are quit of me.

If those who are going to go in for our hateful business only knew what it really was they would sooner be chambermaids.
But no, vanity, the desire of having dresses and carriages and diamonds carries us away; one believes what one hears, for here, as elsewhere, there is such a thing as belief, and one uses up one's heart, one's body, one's beauty, little by little; one is feared like a beast of prey, scorned like a pariah, surrounded by people who always take more than they give; and one fine day one dies like a dog in a ditch, after having ruined others and ruined one's self." "Come, come, madame, be calm," said Nanine; "your nerves are a bit upset to-night." "This dress worries me," continued Marguerite, unhooking her bodice; "give me a dressing-gown.

Well, and Prudence ?" "She has not come yet, but I will send her to you, madame, the moment she comes." "There's one, now," Marguerite went on, as she took off her dress and put on a white dressing-gown, "there's one who knows very well how to find me when she is in want of me, and yet she can't do me a service decently.

She knows I am waiting for an answer.