She certainly had flown high; for, again, why should not a dompteuse be a decent woman?
And here were money, fame of a kind, and an occupation that sent his blood bounding.

A dompteur! He had tamed moose, and young mountain lions, and a catamount, and had had mad hours with pumas and arctic bears; and he could understand how even he might easily pass from M.P.to dompteur.

It was not intellectual, but it was power of a kind; and it was decent, and healthy, and infinitely better than playing the Jew in business, or keeping a tavern, or "shaving" notes, and all that.

Truly, the woman was to be admired, for she was earning an honest living; and no doubt they lied when they named her with Count Ploare.

He kept coming back to that--Count Ploare! Why could they not leave these women alone?
Did they think none of them virtuous?
He would stake his life that Andree--he would call her that--was as straight as the sun.
"What do you think of her, Jacques ?" he said suddenly.
"It is grand.