“And you, who used to say, ’My face is my fortune!’—­How you have changed!” exclaimed Suzanne.

“It is the air of Switzerland; you grow thrifty there.—­Look here; go there yourself, my dear!  Catch a Swiss, and you may perhaps catch a husband, for they have not yet learned what such women as we are can be.  And, at any rate, you may come back with a passion for investments in the funds—­a most respectable and elegant passion!—­Good-bye.”

Esther got into her carriage again, a handsome carriage drawn by the finest pair of dappled gray horses at that time to be seen in Paris.

“The woman who is getting into the carriage is handsome,” said Peyrade to Contenson, “but I like the one who is walking best; follow her, and find out who she is.”

“That is what that Englishman has just remarked in English,” said Theodore Gaillard, repeating Peyrade’s remark to Madame du Val-Noble.

Before making this speech in English, Peyrade had uttered a word or two in that language, which had made Theodore look up in a way that convinced him that the journalist understood English.

Madame du Val-Noble very slowly made her way home to very decent furnished rooms in the Rue Louis-le-Grand, glancing round now and then to see if the mulatto were following her.

This establishment was kept by a certain Madame Gerard, whom Suzanne had obliged in the days of her splendor, and who showed her gratitude by giving her a suitable home.  This good soul, an honest and virtuous citizen, even pious, looked on the courtesan as a woman of a superior order; she had always seen her in the midst of luxury, and thought of her as a fallen queen; she trusted her daughters with her; and—­which is a fact more natural than might be supposed—­the courtesan was as scrupulously careful in taking them to the play as their mother could have been, and the two Gerard girls loved her.  The worthy, kind lodging-house keeper was like those sublime priests who see in these outlawed women only a creature to be saved and loved.

Madame du Val-Noble respected this worth; and often, as she chatted with the good woman, she envied her while bewailing her own ill-fortune.

“Your are still handsome; you may make a good end yet,” Madame Gerard would say.

But, indeed, Madame du Val-Noble was only relatively impoverished.  This woman’s wardrobe, so extravagant and elegant, was still sufficiently well furnished to allow of her appearing on occasion—­as on that evening at the Porte-Saint-Martin to see Richard Darlington —­in much splendor.  And Madame Gerard would most good-naturedly pay for the cabs needed by the lady “on foot” to go out to dine, or to the play, and to come home again.

“Well, dear Madame Gerard,” said she to this worthy mother, “my luck is about to change, I believe.”

“Well, well, madame, so much the better.  But be prudent; do not run into debt any more.  I have such difficulty in getting rid of the people who are hunting for you.”