— Mind your own business! I might know more about elegance than you. I've even given lessons on elegance to a high-society woman.
— No way?
— Yes! She was my lover's wife!
— You had a lover, Marie-Louise?
She bursts out laughing:
— A lover? My dear, I’ve had ten, twenty, thirty…
— I meant to say, did you have a protector, a sugar daddy, you know?
The man speaks with an unfortunate bluntness. By the look of him, he's definitely not a diplomat. I’d guess he's more of a wine broker.
— Yes, I was kept by a man once in my life. Just one.
— Good heavens! Who was this wealthy man?
— Don’t push it! He was a quarter of a stockbroker. And a quarter like him adds up to more than a few men like you.
Marie-Louise, no longer paying attention to me, eager to prove her refinement, continues:
— His name was Chaussey. He used to visit me regularly, three times a week. I had a maid. I didn’t worry about tomorrow. I was happy.
One day, I was told a lady had come to visit. I don’t know many ladies. It’s usually men who visit us. Anyway, I asked:
— Who is this lady? What does she want?
And my maid brings me a cute little card that read: Madame Gaston Chaussey. I swear, I felt as if someone had placed a live snake in my hand. But you’ve got to keep your cool in every job, even in… that one. Maybe she had a revolver or a vial of acid, the lady. So I said:
— Show her in.
And in walks a petite blonde woman, very sweet.
