It was suspected, however, that he led a mysterious
maniacal life, tinged with anxious jealousy, at home, in that flat of the
Boulevard de Grenelle which he had so obstinately refused to quit. His
servant had orders to admit nobody, and she herself knew nothing. If he
gave her free admittance to the dining- and drawing-rooms, he did not
allow her to set foot in his own bedroom, formerly shared by Valerie, nor
in that which Reine had occupied. He himself alone entered these
chambers, which he regarded as sanctuaries, of which he was the sole
priest. Under pretence of sweeping or dusting, he would shut himself up
in one or the other of them for hours at a time. It was in vain that the
servant tried to glance inside, in vain that she listened at the doors
when he spent his holidays at home; she saw nothing and heard nothing.
Nobody could have told what relics those chapels contained, nor with what
religious cult he honored them. Another cause of surprise was his
niggardly, avaricious life, which, as time went on, had become more and
more pronounced, in such wise that his only expenses were his rental of
sixteen hundred francs, the wages he paid to his servant, and the few
pence per day which she with difficulty extracted from him to defray the
cost of food and housekeeping.
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