'Of course,' said Ampère, 'Alceste. Probably five years afterwards. By that time he must have got tired of his desert and she of her coquetry.'
'We know,' I said, 'that Molière was always in love with his wife, notwithstanding her légèrété. What makes me think the tradition that Célimène was Mademoiselle[1] Molière true, is that Molière was certainly in love with Célimène. She is made as engaging as possible, and her worst faults do not rise above foibles. Her satire is good-natured. Arsinoé is her foil, introduced to show what real evil-speaking is.'
'All the women,' said Ampère, 'are in love with Alceste, and they care about no one else. Célimène's satire of the others is scarcely good-natured. It is clear, at least, that they did not think so.'
'If Célimène,' said Minnie, 'became Madame Alceste, he probably made her life a burthen with his jealousy.'
'Of course he was jealous,' said Madame de Beaumont, 'for he was violently in love. There can scarcely be violent love without jealousy.'
'At least,' said Madame de Tocqueville, 'till people are married.
'If a lover is cool enough to be without jealousy, he ought to pretend it.'
[Footnote 1: Under the ancien régime even the married actresses were called Mademoiselle.—ED.]
Sunday, August 18.—After breakfast when the ladies were gone to church, I talked over with Ampère and Beaumont Tocqueville's political career.
'Why,' I asked, 'did he refuse the support of M. Molé in 1835? Why would he never take office under Louis Philippe? Why did he associate himself with the Gauche whom he despised, and oppose the Droit with whom he sympathised? Is the answer given by M. Guizot to a friend of mine who asked a nearly similar question, "Parce qu'il voulait être où je suis," the true one?'