“And if it was only the nosegay!” resumed she.  “Though it gave me a dreadful turn to see Prince Charming leap like a kid upon the stage, I might have said to myself:  ’Pooh! these Indians have their own way of showing politeness.  Here, a lady drops her nosegay, and a gentleman picks it up and gives it to her; but in India it is quite another thing; the man picks up the nosegay, and does not return it to the woman—­he only kills a panther before her eyes.’  Those are good manners in that country, I suppose; but what cannot be good manners anywhere is to treat a woman as I have been treated.  And all thanks to you, madame!”

These complaints of Rose-Pompon, at once bitter and laughable, did not at all agree with what she had previously stated as to Djalma’s passionate love for her; but Adrienne took care not to point out this contradiction, and said to her, mildly:  “You must be mistaken, miss, when you suppose that I had anything to do with your troubles.  But, in any case, I regret sincerely that you should have been ill-treated by any one.”

“If you think I have been beaten, you are quite wrong,” exclaimed Rose Pompon.  “Ah! well, I am sure!  No, it is not that.  But I am certain that, had it not been for you, Prince Charming would have got to love me a little.  I am worthy of the trouble, after all—­and then there are different sorts of love—­I am not so very particular—­not even so much as that,” added Rose-Pompon, snapping her fingers.

“Ah!” she continued, “when Ninny Moulin came to fetch me, and brought me jewels and laces to persuade me to go with him, he was quite right in saying there was no harm in his offers.”

“Ninny Moulin?” asked Mdlle. de Cardoville, becoming more and more interested; “who is this Ninny Moulin, miss?”

“A religious writer,” answered Rose-Pompon, pouting; “the right-hand man of a lot of old sacristans, whose money he takes on pretense of writing about morality and religion.  A fine morality it is!”

At these words—­“a religious writer”—­“sacristans” Adrienne instantly divined some new plot of Rodin or Father d’Aigrigny, of which she and Djalma were to have been the victims.  She began vaguely to perceive the real state of the case, as she resumed:  “But, miss, under what pretence could this man take you away with him?”

“He came to fetch me, and said I need not fear for my virtue, and was only to make myself look pretty.  So I said to myself:  ’Philemon’s out of town, and it’s very dull here all alone:  This seems a droll affair; what can I risk by it?’—­Alas!  I didn’t know what I risked,” added Rose Pompon, with a sigh.  “Well!  Ninny Moulin takes me away in a fine carriage.  We stop in the Place du Palais-Royal.  A sullen-looking man, with a yellow face, gets up in the room of Ninny Moulin, and takes me to the house of Prince Charming.  When I saw him—­la! he was so handsome, so very handsome, that I was quite dizzy-like; and he had such a kind, noble air, that I said to myself, ’Well! there will be some credit if I remain a good girl now!’—­I did not know what a true word I was speaking.  I have been good—­oh! worse than good.”