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Updated: June 12, 2025
I am no philosopher," protested the Marquis de Montagnac. "I accept old age only as a chastisement, and not having committed any criminal act, I revolt against the injustice of it." And Louis de Marset, bending towards his neighbour, who had had a great reputation for beauty before age and illness had pulled her down, remarked, "One cannot be and have been, is not that true, Madame?"
"You have scarcely seemed yourself lately, even at Penhouet. Now you are truly yourself, you are radiant with your seventeen years. It is a pleasure to look at you and to listen to you." When the two girls came into the hall the Director, Maurice Renaud, the Marquis Assistant, and the stage-manager, Louis de Marset, were the only others who had arrived.
For a long time it had been rumoured that the very pretty Countess de Morgueil, widowed two years ago, was violently infatuated with the Duke de Morlay, who was said not to be indifferent to her affection. Afraid apparently that his meaning had not been plain, Marset insisted, "she is always circling about the Duke."
"But does he care for her?" asked a young woman with a hard face, who was just going to give herself a dose of morphine, and who was never seen without a cigarette between her lips. "Who knows?" queried Marset, with a knowing air. Esperance had grown very pale. Albert was controlling himself with difficulty. He observed Genevieve's constraint, and the trouble of his fiancee.
"Oh, no! but now it will go more slowly. The Countess de Morgueil will have to make several repetitions of her tableau of the enchantress Melusina." It was the little de Marset who had spoken. Esperance started.
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