"This is delightful! It hasn't taken you long to keep your promise this time."

"It is my greatest happiness to be with you, madame; and my reason for depriving myself of that happiness so long is that----"

"Well, monsieur? it is that----?"

"That---- Look you, madame, I propose to be quite frank; have I your permission?"

"Why, of course."

"I propose to tell you of all the torments I have suffered. In the first place, I love you--but you are well aware of that; I have told you so before."

"Yes, you have told me so; but that is no reason why it should be true.

All men say as much to a woman who is at all attractive, and of whom they flatter themselves that they can make the conquest."

"But, in that case, madame, what must a man do to prove that he really loves?"

"In the first place, it seems to me that he should not let centuries pa.s.s without calling; you must agree, monsieur, that that is a curious way of proving one's love."

"But, madame, when he is received coldly, when the person in question does not deign to address a word to him, after having given him some reason to hope; and when she laughs and talks incessantly with other men before his eyes, without any pity for the anguish he suffers----"

Armantine laughed aloud, disconcerting me so that I dared not go on.

"Ah!" she cried, when her paroxysm of merriment had subsided; "that is to say, monsieur, that if a woman was weak enough to listen to you and believe you, she must never listen to any other man's gallant speeches?

When a gentleman accosted her, she should run away at once, lest he be tempted to offer her his homage? Perhaps, too, she ought to make wry faces, squint when anyone looks at her, for fear she might be thought pretty?"

"Oh! madame!"

"If that's your way of thinking, monsieur, I must warn you that you would very often have occasion to lose your temper with me. I like to have men pay court to me; I like to have them think me pretty--yes, and tell me so. I don't know whether that is coquetry, but, in my opinion, there is no greater pleasure for a woman."

"No greater pleasure? Not even love? Not even to be loved sincerely?"

"One does not prevent the other."

"Well! tell me that you love me; let me prove to you that I adore you, and I promise not to be jealous of all the men I see fluttering about you. When a man has the certainty of being preferred to all others, then suspicion is an insult. But is he not justified in trembling, when he has received no favor?"

Armantine did not reply, but she was deeply moved. I tried to take advantage of her agitation to embrace her; but she pushed me away and eluded me, saying:

"What are you doing? Someone may come at any minute. I cannot deny myself to callers; the servants know that you are here."

"Very well! meet me somewhere. Do you not go out whenever you choose?"

"Yes, but---- One thing I will not do, and that is, go to your rooms.

Someone might see me go in, and I should be ruined! I am not a _gaillarde_, like Frederique, you know."

"Let us meet somewhere."

"I should never dare to go alone to any out-of-the-way place."

"You can take a cab."

"I should be afraid, all alone, in a cab. No, monsieur, I am no dare-devil; I am very cowardly."

"Say rather, madame, that you do not choose to grant me an a.s.signation."

"Ah! monsieur is losing his temper already. Well, let me see; to-morrow I am to go to the Champs-elysees with Madame Gerbancourt and her sister--two _pet.i.tes-maitresses_ whom you must have seen here. They are not beautiful, but they are always beautifully dressed. Madame Gerbancourt has rather a good figure; her sister is too thin."

"I haven't the faintest recollection of the ladies."

"No matter! You will find us sitting opposite the Cirque."

"Very good!"

"It will be about two o'clock. You may come and speak to me. They live near by, on Rue de Ponthieu. When they start to go home, I will say that I am waiting for Frederique. They will leave me, I will stay with you, and then----"

"Oh! you are adorable! I swear to love you all my life!"

"Really? I thought that you were in love with Madame Dauberny too?"

"With your friend? No, indeed; I have never dreamed of such a thing! I would have been glad to obtain her friendship; her original character pleased me mightily; but I have failed to do it. You must have noticed how coldly she treated me yesterday."

"Yes, I did. But I don't know what has been the matter with her lately; she is so capricious; I see much less of her than I used."

The doorbell rang, announcing visitors. I took leave of Madame Sordeville at once, fearing that something might happen to make her change her mind; for she was very capricious, too, and it was not safe to give her time to retract.

"Until to-morrow!" I said, very tenderly, as I left the room.

I was so happy, that I trod on air. I was sure of my triumph now. When a woman gives us an a.s.signation, is it not equivalent to a surrender? And, under such circ.u.mstances, the man who does not grasp the opportunity is an idiot--or something worse!

XXIX

AN ENCOUNTER ON THE CHAMPS-eLYSeES

The day of my a.s.signation was magnificently clear. I gave thanks to the weather; for if it had been stormy, she would not have been likely to walk on the Champs-elysees; and the day before, in my delight, I had not thought of that. But everything seemed propitious, and I fairly swam in bliss. Pomponne curled his lip slightly, as he looked at me with an idiotic expression; the fellow evidently considered himself very penetrating. I thought of nothing but Armantine; I was really in love with her, and it seemed to me that I had never loved other women so dearly.

While dressing, I found Madame Dauberny's note in my pocket. I was overjoyed that I had not heeded her advice; but still I reread the note once more. I determined that, when I met the writer, she would have to explain what she meant by that warning.--"Our brief intimacy," she wrote, "has left in my heart marks of its pa.s.sage."--Really, I should not have suspected it, in view of her present treatment of me.

I was on the Champs-elysees a little before two. It was cold; but the sun was so bright that there were many people driving and walking. The Champs-elysees is the general rendezvous of the world of fashion.

Magnificent equipages pa.s.sed back and forth, or vanished in the direction of the Bois de Boulogne, escorted by innumerable equestrians, who always glanced inside the carriages as they pa.s.sed; and when they saw a young and beautiful woman, they instantly a.s.sumed a more dashing air, and made their steeds prance and curvet, so that horse and rider might be admired at the same time.

The pedestrians, too, were very numerous; for winter costumes have a charm of their own, and the cloaks and furs in which a pretty woman wraps herself sometimes form an admirable foil for delicate features or dainty graces: the flowers we find under the snow seem fairer than others. You need not cry out--there are flowers under the snow.

My own attire was irreproachable, and I flattered myself that it was in excellent taste. I strolled along, beaming with antic.i.p.ation, toward the appointed place. There were many people seated, but I soon spied her I sought. Armantine was there, with two ladies whom I recognized as having seen among her guests. The three vied with one another in elegance. I approached them and bowed, as if the meeting were accidental.

Madame Sordeville welcomed me with the sweetest glance, pointing to a chair by her side. We exchanged the customary greetings, and I seated myself beside Armantine.