right and wrong

looked out from under a tattered kerchief--a blue, seamed face with

a toothless, cavernous mouth and fiery bruises where the eyes should

be. And Nana, seeing the frightful old woman, the wanton drowned in

drink, had a sudden fit of recollection and saw far back amid the

shadows of consciousness the vision of Chamont--Irma d'Anglars, the

old harlot crowned with years and honors, ascending the steps in

front of her chateau amid abjectly reverential villagers. Then as

Satin whistled again, making game of the old hag, who could not see