"Oh, I! In my early youth I worked from necessity, and then I formed a
habit which I cannot now get rid of; while Camille Langis--"

"Once more?" she ejaculated, with a gesture of impatience. "What prompts
you to speak to me of Camille?"

"Nothing. I often think of him."

"Do not let us two play at diplomacy. You have had news of him lately?"

"You just remind me that I have, through a letter from Mme. De Lorcy."

"Mme de Lorcy, my godmother, would do better to meddle with what
concerns her. That woman is incorrigible."

"Of what would you have her correct herself?"

"Simply of her mania for making my happiness after her own fashion.
I read in your eyes that Camille has returned to Paris. What is his
object?"

"I know nothing about it. How should I know? I only presume--that is, I
suppose----"

"You do not suppose--you know."

"Not at all. At the same time, since hypothesis is the road which leads
to science, a road we _savants_ travel every day, I--"