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Updated: June 15, 2025
The mistress of Pierre Méran, the artist's drudge, the wretch who abducted her and debauched her, adding his depravity to hers, and who died of consumption while quite young, after having plunged this girl into vice, this Marianne Kayser, born and moulded for vice: she a duchess! "It would be too funny, my dear!" she thought.
Guy de Lissac had hardly taken two steps toward Marianne before she had vanished behind the heavy folds of the Japanese portière that fell in its place behind her. He opened the door. Mademoiselle Kayser was already in the hall, with her hand on the handle of the door. "At nine o'clock I shall be with you," she said to Lissac as she disappeared.
"Have you been much in love with Mademoiselle Kayser?" "Very much." "And has she loved you a little?" "Not at all." "That is not what she has just told me." "Ah!" said Lissac, as he threw away his cigar. "You spoke of me, then?" "She told me that she believed she loved you sincerely." "That is just what I had the pleasure of telling you." "And Marianne?
All this was expressed by a pressure of the fingers, a glance, a sigh. Rosas went rapidly away, like one distracted. Marianne, who motioned to Uncle Kayser to disappear, reappeared in the studio, entirely self-possessed. Vaudrey had risen from the divan on which he had been sitting and he was standing, waiting. "I believed that I understood that you had dismissed Monsieur de Rosas?"
Nearly 15,000 women, representing all parties, creeds and classes, marched down Michigan Boulevard and hundreds of thousands of people lined both sides for over two miles. Captain Charles W. Kayser of Wheaton planned the procession with military skill.
Ah! if he, Kayser, had exhibited to the world a lewd picture, it would have been "a horse of a different color"! The dignity, seriousness, purity of art, that was right enough! But a woman! Pshaw! a woman! Nor was he heard once to express any uneasiness as to what might become of Marianne.
If Uncle Kayser could for one moment have descended from the nebulous regions, and touched the earth, he would have found an impatient ardor in the depth of Marianne's glance, and something feverish and restless in her movements.
Vaudrey instinctively thought that it was a very hasty matter to call so soon on Uncle Kayser. This man's first visit was not to the painter's studio, but in reality to the woman who Sulpice still heard Marianne declare that who would not become his mistress. There was something strange in that. Eh! parbleu! it was perhaps Monsieur de Rosas who had sent for Marianne.
"No one but me," she said. The order had been given to Uncle Kayser in advance: in case Rosas should reappear, Simon was to at once inform his niece and prevent the duke from discovering Marianne's new address. And this had been done. The duke was then going to see Mademoiselle Kayser only at Rue Cuvier, after having rediscovered her at Uncle Simon's.
It is nothing compared with theirs!" Guy did not show any displeasure on hearing Mademoiselle Kayser announced. He was waiting for her. As Marianne could not feel free so long as he held the proof of her imprudence, some day or other she must inevitably seek him to supplicate or threaten him. The letter received overnight had apprised him that that moment had arrived.
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