satisfied idiocy of La Faloise, and the tragic shipwreck of the

Muffats. Finally there was the white corpse of Georges, over which

Philippe was now watching, for he had come out of prison but

yesterday. She had finished her labor of ruin and death. The fly

that had flown up from the ordure of the slums, bringing with it the

leaven of social rottenness, had poisoned all these men by merely

alighting on them. It was well done--it was just. She had avenged

the beggars and the wastrels from whose caste she issued. And