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XIII
At last the house had been cleansed of her friends.
The last one, the pretty one, had disappeared in the com-
pany of a well-known professor, who had returned from
an expedition with four orders and an assured position.
Having no home of her own, the fair lady had lived in my
house, cost free. She had seized the opportunity, fastened
herself on to the poor fellow and seduced him one evening
in a cab, where, for some reason or other, she found herself
with him ; she forced him into marrying her by making a
scandalous scene in a third house, to which they had both
been invited. As soon as she felt sure of her position
she dropped the mask, and at a party, under the influence
of too much wine, she called Marie a degenerate. A
colleague, who happened to hear the remark, thought it
his duty to tell me at once.
Marie, with a few words, proved that the accusation
was unjust, and in future my door was closed to the lady,
although this meant the loss of my old friend for ever.
I was not sufficiently curious to go more deeply into
the meaning of the word "degenerate," but it left its
sting in my bleeding flesh. New insults, uttered by the
same impure lips, referred to the suspicious life Marie
had led during her tour in Finland. My old suspicions
arose with fresh vigour, her miscarriage, our conversation
on destiny, her complete surrender. . . . All these things
strengthened my intention to leave the country.
Marie had discovered the use of a sick poet, and con-
stituted herself sister of mercy, sick-nurse, keeper even,
if a keeper was required.
234
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