scoffed, and André Chénier sighed. To be sure, she did smoke a little, but then even the most perfect taste cannot quite escape the cachet of its era.
"It was not necessary, my friend, to say that your place was so poor," said M. de St. Louis, as they went out of the hotel together; he had known his companion from boyhood.
"I am not ashamed of my poverty," said Della Rocca, somewhat coldly. "Besides," he added, with a laugh which had not much mirth in it, "our poverty is as well known as that of the city. I think the most dishonest Della Rocca could not conceal it by any adroitness, any more than Floralia could conceal her public debt."
"That may be, but neither you nor the town need proclaim the state of your affairs," said the Duc, who never gave up an opinion. "You should let her be interested in you before you make it so evident; such silence is quite permissible. You need say nothing; you need hide nothing; you need only let things alone."
"My dear Duc," said Della Rocca, with a
