And with that she assumed a disgusted expression.  Then she became sentimental and added in a melancholy tone: 

“I know of something worth more than money.  Oh, if only someone were to give me what I long for!”

He slowly lifted his head, and there was a gleam of hope in his eyes.

“Oh, you can’t give it me,” she continued; “it doesn’t depend on you, and that’s the reason I’m talking to you about it.  Yes, we’re having a chat, so I may as well mention to you that I should like to play the part of the respectable woman in that show of theirs.”

“What respectable woman?” he muttered in astonishment.

“Why, their Duchess Helene!  If they think I’m going to play Geraldine, a part with nothing in it, a scene and nothing besides—­if they think that!  Besides, that isn’t the reason.  The fact is I’ve had enough of courtesans.  Why, there’s no end to ’em!  They’ll be fancying I’ve got ’em on the brain; to be sure they will!  Besides, when all’s said and done, it’s annoying, for I can quite see they seem to think me uneducated.  Well, my boy, they’re jolly well in the dark about it, I can tell you!  When I want to be a perfect lady, why then I am a swell, and no mistake!  Just look at this.”

And she withdrew as far as the window and then came swelling back with the mincing gait and circumspect air of a portly hen that fears to dirty her claws.  As to Muffat, he followed her movements with eyes still wet with tears.  He was stupefied by this sudden transition from anguish to comedy.  She walked about for a moment or two in order the more thoroughly to show off her paces, and as she walked she smiled subtlely, closed her eyes demurely and managed her skirts with great dexterity.  Then she posted herself in front of him again.

“I guess I’ve hit it, eh?”

“Oh, thoroughly,” he stammered with a broken voice and a troubled expression.

“I tell you I’ve got hold of the honest woman!  I’ve tried at my own place.  Nobody’s got my little knack of looking like a duchess who don’t care a damn for the men.  Did you notice it when I passed in front of you?  Why, the thing’s in my blood!  Besides, I want to play the part of an honest woman.  I dream about it day and night—­I’m miserable about it.  I must have the part, d’you hear?”

And with that she grew serious, speaking in a hard voice and looking deeply moved, for she was really tortured by her stupid, tiresome wish.  Muffat, still smarting from her late refusals, sat on without appearing to grasp her meaning.  There was a silence during which the very flies abstained from buzzing through the quiet, empty place.

“Now, look here,” she resumed bluntly, “you’re to get them to give me the part.”

He was dumfounded, and with a despairing gesture: 

“Oh, it’s impossible!  You yourself were saying just now that it didn’t depend on me.”

She interrupted him with a shrug of the shoulders.