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What I had foreseen happened: she summoned me to her box.
Prudence Duvernoy ?such was the apt name of the milliner ?was one of those ample women of forty with whom no great diplomatic subtleties are required to get them to say what you wish to know, especially when what you wish to know is as simple as what I had to ask.
Seizing a moment when she was inaugurating a new round of signals with Marguerite, I asked her:
'Who's that you're watching?'
'Marguerite Gautier.'
'Do you know her?'
'Yes, I'm her milliner, and she's a neighbour of mine.'
'So you live in the rue d'Antin.'
'In number 7. The window of her dressing-room looks on to the window of mine.'
'They say she's a charming girl.'
'Don't you know her?'
'No
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'Do you want me to tell her to come across to our box?'
'No, I'd prefer you to introduce me to her.'
'At her place?'
'Yes.'
'That's more difficult.'
'Why?'
'Because she's under the protection of an old Duke who is very jealous.'
' "Protection", how charming.'
'Yes, protection, ' Prudence went on. 'Poor old thing. He'd be hard put to it to be her lover.'
Prudence then related how Marguerite had become acquainted with the Duke at Bagneres.
'And that is why, ' I continued, 'she's here on her own?'
'That's right.'
'But who'll drive her home?'
'He will.'
'So he'll come and fetch her?'
'Any minute now.'
'And who's taking you home?'
'Nobody.'
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