But she turned the subject with a frown. She would not let him question
her about herself.

"No; tell me about yourself. Tell me.... Something about your life...."

"How can it be of any interest to you?"

"Tell me, all the same...."

He would not tell her: but he could not avoid answering her questions,
for she cross-examined him very skilfully: so much so, that he told her
something of what he was suffering, the story of his friendship, and how
Olivier had left him. She listened with a pitying ironical smile....
Suddenly she asked:

"What time is it? Oh! good Heavens! I've been here two whole hours!...
Please forgive me.... Ah! what a rest it has been!..."

She added:

"Will you let me come again?... Not often.... Sometimes.... It would do
me good. But I wouldn't like to bore you or waste your time.... Only a
minute or two every now and then...."

"I'll come and see you," said Christophe.

"No, don't do that. I would much rather come to see you...."

But she did not come again for a long time. One evening he heard by
accident that she was seriously ill, and had not been acting for some