“And what do you believe of the religion of our aunt?”

“What would you have me believe of religion that bestows no virtue—­restrains no vice?”

“Then you are a non-believer?”

“One may believe in God and the Gospel without believing in the religion of our aunt.”

“But she will drive you into a convent.  Why, then, do you not enter one?”

“I love life,” the girl said.

He looked at her silently a moment, then continued “Yes, you love life—­the sunlight, the thoughts, the arts, the luxuries—­everything that is beautiful, like yourself.  Then, Mademoiselle Charlotte, all these are in your hands; why do you not grasp them?”

“How?” she queried, surprised and somewhat startled.

“If you have, as I believe you have, as much strength of soul as intelligence and beauty, you can escape at once and forever the miserable servitude fate has imposed upon you.  Richly endowed as you are, you might become to-morrow a great artiste, independent, feted, rich, adored—­the mistress of Paris and of the world!”

“And yours also?—­No!” said this strange girl.

“Pardon, Mademoiselle Charlotte.  I did not suspect you of any improper idea, when you offered to share my uncertain fortunes.  Render me, I pray you, the same justice at this moment.  My moral principles are very lax, it is true, but I am as proud as yourself.  I never shall reach my aim by any subterfuge.  No; strive to study art.  I find you beautiful and seductive, but I am governed by sentiments superior to personal interests.  I was profoundly touched by your sympathetic leaning toward me, and have sought to testify my gratitude by friendly counsel.  Since, however, you now suspect me of striving to corrupt you for my own ends, I am silent, Mademoiselle, and permit you to depart.”

“Pray proceed, Monsieur de Camors.”

“You will then listen to me with confidence?”

“I will do so.”

“Well, then, Mademoiselle, you have seen little of the world, but you have seen enough to judge and to be certain of the value of its esteem.  The world!  That is your family and mine:  Monsieur and Madame Tonnelier, Monsieur and Madame de la Roche-Jugan, and the little Sigismund!”

“Well, then, Mademoiselle Charlotte, the day that you become a great artiste, rich, triumphant, idolized, wealthy—­drinking, in deep draughts, all the joys of life—­that day Uncle Tonnelier will invoke outraged morals, our aunt will swoon with prudery in the arms of her old lovers, and Madame de la Roche-Jugan will groan and turn her yellow eyes to heaven!  But what will all that matter to you?”

“Then, Monsieur, you advise me to lead an immoral life.”

“By no manner of means.  I only urge you, in defiance of public opinion, to become an actress, as the only sure road to independence, fame, and fortune.  And besides, there is no law preventing an actress marrying and being ‘honorable,’ as the world understands the word.  You have heard of more than one example of this.”