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half prepared to scold her for stealing about the house like a cat, but then he remembered that this would have been inconsistent. He said instead:

"And the little gipsy? Is she still practising witchcraft in the kitchen?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"You had better send her to me."

Justine vanished with alacrity.

He lighted a cigar and walked up and down the room, thinking to himself:

"Already they are on the point of forgetting Marie. Fanny will be the next, and then will come the turn of the actress, Rachel. Why do any of us ever try to please the public? They are ungrateful, and we expect gratitude, and that is very foolish of us, for it hurts to be disappointed in those we think our friends."

These melancholy reflections were cut short by the appearance of Paulina, who was most dramatically ushered into the room by Justine.

"La voila! What did I teil Monsieur? Isn't it a vraie bohémienne?"

"I see no reason to suppose so," Rosing told her coldly. He was beginning once again to feel sorry for Paulina, because she was small and pale, and had no bonnet and presented such a bedraggled appearance. He tried to suppress these feelings of sympathy, knowing from sad experience how far astray they were apt to lead him, and when he had waved Justine imperiously from the room, he wished that he had done no such thing. She would probably have checked any signs of foolishness on his part. But she had gone, and so he smiled at Paulina and asked her to sit down.

She obeyed, staring in a daze at the room, which was the finest she had ever seen, as she at once proceeded to explain to her host.

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