The next day they breakfasted and dined together at a common eating house, on money that she had borrowed, and when it was dark, she said to the child:  “Wait for me here; I will come for you at closing time.”  She came back sooner, however about ten o’clock.  She had twelve francs, which she gave him, telling him that she had earned them, and she continued, with a laugh:  “I feel that I shall make some more.  I am in luck this evening, and you have brought it me.  Do not be impatient, but have some milk-posset while you are waiting for me.”

She kissed him before she went, and the kind girl felt real maternal happiness as she went out.  An hour later, however, she was run in by the police for having been found in a prohibited place, and off she went, game for St. Lazare[8].

[Footnote 8:  Prison in Paris.]

And the child, who was turned out by the proprietor at closing time, and then driven from the furnished lodgings the next morning, where they told him that Tall Fanny was in quod, began his wretched vagabond life in the streets again, with only the twelve francs to depend on.

* * * * *

Fifteen years afterwards the newspapers announced one morning that the famous Fanny Clairet, the celebrated horizontal, whose caprices had caused a revolution in high life, that queen of frail beauties for whom three men had committed suicide, and so many others had ruined themselves, that incomparable living statue, who had attracted all Paris to the theater where she impersonated Venus in her transparent skin tights, made of woven air and knitted nothing had been shut up in a lunatic asylum.  She had been seized suddenly; it was an attack of general paralysis, and as her debts were enormous, when her estate had been liquidated, she would have to end her days at La Salpetriere.

“No, certainly not!” Francois Guerland, the painter, said to himself, when he read the notice of it in the papers.  “No, the great Fanny shall certainly not end like that.”  For it was certainly she; there could be no doubt about it.  For a long time after she had shown him that act of charity, which he could never forget, the child had tried to see his benefactress again.  But Paris is a very mysterious place, and he himself had had many adventures before he grew up to be a man, and, eventually, almost somebody!  But he only found her in the distance; he had recognized her at the theater, on the stage, or as she was getting into her carriage, which was fit for a princess.  And how could he approach her then?  Could he remind her of the time when her price was five francs?  No, assuredly not; and so he had followed her, thanked her, and blessed her, from a distance.