Princess Gulof was the wife of a governor-general whom she had wedded in second marriage after a long widowhood.He did not see her often, two or three times a year, that was all.Floating about from one end of Europe to another, they kept up a regular exchange of letters; the prince never took any step without consulting his wife, who usually gave him sound advice.During the first years of their marriage, he had committed the error of being seriously in love with her: there are some species of ugliness that inspire actually insane passions.The princess found this in the most wretched taste, and soon brought Dimitri Paulovitch to his senses.From that moment perfect concord reigned between this wedded couple, who were parted by the entire continent of Europe, united by the mail-bags.The princess did not bear a very irreproachable record.She looked upon morality as pure matter of conventionality, and she made no secret of her thoughts.She was always on the alert for new discoveries, fresh experiences; she never waited to read a book to the end before flinging it into the waste-paper basket, most frequently the first chapter sufficed; she had met with many disappointments, she had wearied of many caprices, and she had arrived at the conclusion that man is, after all, of but small account.Nevertheless, there had come to her late in life a comparatively lasting caprice; during nearly five years she had flattered herself that she had found what she sought.Alas! for the first time she had been abandoned, forsaken, and that before she had herself grown tired of her fancy.This desertion had inflicted a sharp wound on her pride; she had conceived an implacable hatred for the faithless one, and then she had forgotten him.She had plunged into the natural sciences, she had made dissections--it was her way of being avenged.She held very advanced ideas; she believed in the most radical of the doctrines of evolution; she deemed it a clearly demonstrated fact that man is a development of the monkey, the monkey of the monad.She profoundly despised any one who permitted himself to doubt this.She did not count melancholy; to analyze or dissect everything, that was her way of being happy.
During their common sojourn at Ostend, Mme.de Lorcy had gained the good graces of the Princess Gulof through the dexterity with which she had dressed the wounds of Moufflard, her lapdog, whose paw had been injured by some awkward individual.She had been quite pleased with Mme.de Lorcy, her sympathy and her kindly services, and she had bestowed her most amiable attentions upon her.Mme.de Lorcy had done her best to respond to her advances; but she found herself revolted by this old magpie whose prattling never ceased, and whose chief delight was in the recital of the secret chronicles of every capital of Europe; Mme.de Lorcy, in fact, soon grew disgusted with her cosmopolitan gossip and her physiology; she found her cynical and evil-minded.In meeting her at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, her first impulse was to evade her; but suddenly she changed her mind.For some weeks past she had been governed by a fixed idea, about which all else revolved; an inspiration came over her, which doubtless fell directly from the skies.
"Princess Gulof," said she to herself, "has passed her life in running around the world; her real home is a railroad-car; there is not a large city where she has failed to make a sojourn; she is acquainted with the whole world: is it not possible that she knows Count Larinski?"Mme.de Lorcy retraced her steps, cut her way through the crowd, succeeded in approaching the princess, and, taking her by the arm, exclaimed: "Ah! is it you, princess! How is Moufflard?"The princess turned her head, regarded her fixedly a moment, and then pressing her hand between her thumb and forefinger she rejoined with as little ceremony as though they had met the day before: "Moufflard does very poorly indeed, my dear.He died two months ago of indigestion.""How you must have mourned his loss!"
"I am still inconsolable."
"Ah! well, princess, I shall undertake to console you.I own a lapdog, not yet six months old: you never saw a more charming one or one with a shorter nose or whiter and more delicate hair.I am a great utilitarian, as you know.I only care for large dogs that are of some use.Will you accept of me Moufflard II? But you must come and fetch him yourself, which will procure me the pleasure of seeing you at Maisons."The princess replied that she was on her way to England; that she was merely taking Paris in passing; that her hours were numbered; and two minutes later she announced to Mme.de Lorcy that she would call on her the following day, in the afternoon.
True to her appointment, Princess Gulof entered Mme.de Lorcy's /salon/ the following day.The ladies occupied themselves first of all with the lapdog, which was found charming and quite worthy to succeed to Moufflard I.Mme.de Lorcy watched all the time for a suitable opportunity of introducing the subject nearest to her heart; when she thought it had come, she observed:
