Oh I enjoyed him, the rascal! No, really, the things he thought of.… Well, no more of these reminiscences. We became like two brothers. The rogue, very Regency, did his best to lead me astray, to preach Saint-Simonism where women were concerned, give me notions of behaving like a lord, like a blue-jerkined swashbuckler; but, you see, I loved my little dear well enough to marry her, if I had not been afraid of having children. Between two old papas, such good friends as we were, naturally the idea couldn’t but occur to us of marrying our children. Three months after the marriage of his son and my Célestine, Hulot… (I don’t know how I can bear to utter his name, the scoundrel! For he has fooled us both, Madame!)… well, the scoundrel stole my little Josépha. The cunning devil knew that he had been supplanted by a young Councillor of State and by an artist (no less!) in Jenny Cadine’s heart (because her successes were making more and more of a splash), and he took my poor little mistress from me, a love of a girl; but you surely must have seen her at the Italian Opera, where he got her in by influence.

‘Your man is not so careful as me. No one twists me round their fingers – I do everything methodically, according to rule. Jenny Cadine had already had a good cut out of him; she must have cost him pretty near thirty thousand francs a year. Well, you had better know that he has completely ruined himself now for Josépha. Josépha, Madame, is a Jewess; she is called Mirah, an anagram of Hiram, and that’s a Jewish label to identify her, for she’s a deserted child who was picked up in Germany. I have made some inquiries and found out that she’s the natural child of a rich Jewish banker.

‘The theatre, and above all what Jenny Cadine, Madame Schontz, Malaga, and Carabine taught her about the right fashion to treat old men, developed in that little girl whom I was bringing up in a proper, decent way – not expensive either – the instinct that the ancient Hebrews had for gold and jewels, for the Golden Calf! The famous singer now has a keen eye for the main chance; she wants to be rich, very rich. And she doesn’t squander a sou of all the money that’s squandered upon her. She tried her claws on Hulot, and she has plucked him clean – oh, plucked isn’t the word, you can call it skinned!

‘And now, poor wretch, after struggling to keep her against one of the Kellars, and the Marquis d’Esgrignon – both mad about Josépha – not to mention unknown worshippers at her shrine, he’s about to see her carried off by that Duke who’s rolling in money and patronizes the arts – what’s he called, now?… he’s a dwarf – ah! the Duc d’Hérouville. This grand lord wants to keep Josépha for himself alone. The whole courtesan world is talking about it, and the Baron knows nothing at all; for it’s just the same in the Thirteenth District as in all the others: the lover, like the husband, is the last to learn the truth.

‘Now do you understand my right? Your husband, my dear lady, snatched my happiness from me, the only joy I have had since I lost my wife. Yes, if I had not had the bad luck to meet that old beau I should still possess Josépha, for, you know, I would never have let her go into the theatre; she would have stayed obscure, good, and my own.

‘Oh! if you had seen her eight years ago! Slight and highly-strung, a golden Andalusian, as they call it, with black hair shining like satin, an eye that could flash lightning, and long dark lashes, with the distinction of a duchess in every movement that she made, with a poor girl’s modesty and an unassuming grace, as sweet and pretty in her ways as a wild deer. And now, because of Hulot, her charm and innocence have all become bird-lime, a trap set to catch five-franc pieces. The child is now queen of the demi-reps, as they say. She’s up to all the artful dodges now, she who used to know nothing at all, hardly even the meaning of the expression!’

As he said this, the retired perfumer wiped away tears that had risen to his eyes. The sincerity of his grief had its effect on Madame Hulot, and she roused herself from the reverie into which she had fallen.

‘Well, Madame, is a man likely to find a treasure like that again at fifty-two years of age? At fifty-two love costs thirty thousand francs per annum: I have the figures from your husband; and I love Célestine too well to ruin her. Seeing you on that first evening when you received us, I could not understand how that scoundrel Hulot could keep a Jenny Cadine. You looked like an empress. You were not thirty, Madame,’ he went on; ‘to me you seemed young; you were lovely. Ton my word of honour, that day, I was stirred to the depths. I said to myself, “Old Hulot neglects his wife, and if I had not my Josépha she would suit me to a T.” Ah! pardon me, that’s an expression from my old trade. The perfumer breaks through now and again; that’s what stands in the way of my aspiring to be a Deputy.

‘And so when I was done down in such a treacherous way by the Baron – for between old cronies like us our friends’ mistresses should have been sacrosanct – I swore to myself that I would take his wife. It was only fair. The Baron would not be able to say a word, and there was nothing at all he could do. When I told you of the state of my heart, you showed me the door as if I were a dog with mange at the first words, and in doing that you made my love twice as strong – my infatuation if you like – and you shall be mine!’

‘Indeed? How?’

‘I do not know how, but that’s the way it’s going to be. You see, Madame, an idiot of a perfumer – retired!– who has only one idea in his head, is in a stronger position than a clever man with thousands.