captive every most transient mood, and binding them together, holds a
man captive hand and foot, heart and head.

"Tullia knew Cursy well; she knew every weak point in his armor, knew
also how to heal his wounds.

"A passion of this kind is inscrutable for any observer, even for a
man who prides himself, as I do, on a certain expertness. It is
everywhere unfathomable; the dark depths in it are darker than in any
other mystery; the colors confused even in the highest lights.

"Cursy was an old playwright, jaded by the life of the theatrical
world. He liked comfort; he liked a luxurious, affluent, easy
existence; he enjoyed being a king in his own house; he liked to be
host to a party of men of letters in a hotel resplendent with royal
luxury, with carefully chosen works of art shining in the setting.
Tullia allowed du Bruel to enthrone himself amid the tribe; there were
plenty of journalists whom it was easy enough to catch and ensnare;
and, thanks to her evening parties and a well-timed loan here and
there, Cursy was not attacked too seriously--his plays succeeded. For
these reasons he would not have separated from Tullia for an empire.
If she had been unfaithful, he would probably have passed it over, on
condition that none of his accustomed joys should be retrenched; yet,
strange to say, Tullia caused him no twinges on this account. No fancy
was laid to her charge; if there had been any, she certainly had been
very careful of appearances.

"'My dear fellow,' du Bruel would say, laying down the law to us on
the boulevard, 'there is nothing like one of these women who have sown
their wild oats and got over their passions. Such women as Claudine