“I began to talk to her:
“ ‘Have you been here long?’ said I.
“ ‘Six months the fifteenth of January.’
“ ‘Where were you before that?’
“ ‘I was in the Rue Clauzel. But the concierge made so much trouble that I left.’
“And she began to relate an interminable story of the concierge who had made some scandal about her.
“Suddenly I heard something moving near us. At first there was a sigh, then a slight but distinct noise, as if someone had stirred in a chair.
“I sat up quickly in bed and asked: ‘What was that noise?’
“She answered with tranquil assurance: ‘Don’t disturb yourself, my dear, it is my neighbour. The partition is so thin that we hear everything as if they were here. What rotten holes these are. They are made of pasteboard.’
“My indolence was so strong that I got down under the clothes again. We continued our talk. Incited by the curiosity which drives all men to question these creatures upon their first adventure, to wish to raise the veil from their first fault in order to find in them some far-off trace of innocence, that we may find something to love, perhaps, in the rapid recital evoked by their candour and the shame of long ago, I asked her about her first lover.
“I knew that she would lie. What did it matter? Among all the lies I might discover, perhaps, some sincere or touching incident.
“ ‘Come,’ said I, ‘tell me who he was.’
“ ‘He was an oarsman.’
“ ‘Ah! Tell me about it. Where were you?’
“ ‘I was at Argenteuil.’
“ ‘What were you doing there?’
“ ‘I was maid in a restaurant.’
“ ‘What restaurant?’
“ ‘At the Marin d’Eau Douce. Do you know it?’
“ ‘Well, yes; Bonanfan’s.’
“ ‘Yes, that’s the one.’
“ ‘And how did he pay his court, this oarsman?’
“ ‘While I was making his bed. He forced me.’
“But suddenly I recalled the theory of a doctor of my acquaintance, an observing, philosophic doctor who, in his practice in a great hospital, had daily examples of these girl-mothers and prostitutes, and knew all the shame and misery of women, the poor women who become the hideous prey of the wandering male with money in his pocket.
“ ‘Invariably,’ he told me, ‘a girl is debauched by a man of her own class and station in life. I have made volumes of observations upon it. It is customary to accuse the rich of culling the flower of innocence from the children of the people. That is not true. The rich pay for the culled bouquet. They cull also, but at the second flowering; they never cut the first.’
“Then turning toward my companion, I began to laugh:
“ ‘Come now, I know all your story by heart. The oarsman was not the first, as you well know.’
“ ‘Oh! yes, my dear, I swear it!’
“ ‘You are lying.’
“ ‘Oh! no, I promise you I am not.’
“ ‘You lie. Come, tell me the truth.’
“She seemed to hesitate, astonished. I continued:
“ ‘I am a sorcerer, my good child, a hypnotist. If you do not tell me the truth, I shall put you to sleep, and then I can find it out.’
“She was afraid, being stupid like her kind. She murmured:
“ ‘How did you ever guess it?’
“I replied: ‘Come, speak.’
“ ‘Oh! the first time, it was almost nothing. There was a country holiday and a chef was called in for the occasion, M. Alexander. As soon as he came he had it all his own way in the house. He ordered everybody, even the master and mistress, as if he had been a king. He was a tall, handsome man who had hardly enough room to stand in front of the stove. He was always shouting: “Here, some butter—some eggs—some Madeira!” And you had to run to him with everything at once, or he would get angry and say things to you that would make you blush all over your body.
“ ‘When the day’s work was done he installed himself in front of the door and began to smoke. And, as I passed in front of him with a pile of plates, he said to me: “Hello, kid, won’t you come down to the edge of the river and show me the country?” I went, like a fool; and scarcely had we arrived at the bank when he forced me so quickly that I did not even know that it was done. And then he went away by the nine o’clock train, and I never saw him again after that.’
“I asked: ‘Is that all?’
“She stammered: ‘Oh! I believe Florentin belongs to him.’
“ ‘Who is Florentin?’
“ ‘He is my little boy.’
“ ‘Ah! very well. And you made the oarsman believe that he was the father, did you not?’
“ ‘Yes.’
“ ‘Had this oarsman money?’
“ ‘Yes, he left me an income of three hundred francs for Florentin’s support.’
“I began to be amused, and continued:
“ ‘Very well, my girl, very well. You are all less stupid than one would believe. And how old is Florentin now?’
“She answered: ‘Twelve years old. He will take his first communion in the spring.’
“ ‘That is good; and since that you have conscientiously followed your profession?’
“She sighed resignedly: ‘One does what one can.’
“A loud noise in another part of the room made me leap out of bed with a bound; it was the noise of someone falling, then rising and groping with his hands upon the wall. I had seized the candle and was looking about, frightened and furious. She got up also and tried to hold me back, saying:
“ ‘It is nothing, my dear, I assure you it is nothing.’
“But I had discovered on which side of the wall this strange noise was. I went straight toward a concealed door at the head of the bed and opened it suddenly—and perceived there a poor little boy, trembling and staring at me with frightened eyes, a pale, thin little boy beside a large chair filled with straw, from which he had fallen.
“When he saw me, he began to cry and, opening his arms
