“Ah! so much the worse, madame,” said Malicorne, “every one for himself in this poor world.”
“Malicorne! Malicorne!” said Montalais. Then stooping towards the young man:—
“Occupy Madame de Saint-Remy, either in disputing with her, or making it up with her; I must speak to Louise.” And, at the same time, a soft pressure of the hand recompensed Malicorne for his future obedience. Malicorne went grumbling towards Madame de Saint-Remy, whilst Montalais said to her friend, throwing one arm around her neck:—
“What is the matter? Tell me. Is it true that you would not love me if I were to shine, as your mother says?”
“Oh, no!” said the young girl, with difficulty restraining her tears; “on the contrary, I rejoice at your good fortune.”
“Rejoice! why, one would say you are ready to cry!”
“Do people never weep except from envy?”
“Oh! yes, I understand; I am going to Paris, and that word Paris recalls to your mind a certain cavalier——”
“Aure!”
“A certain cavalier who formerly lived near Blois, and who now resides at Paris.”