"Very well, my dear," said I gaily, "this is not a time for confidences then?"
She looked at me in astonishment.
"And yet," I continued, "we must some day come to the truth. Now I believe it would be well to begin at once; that will make you confiding, and there is nothing like an understanding between friends."
Doubtless, my face betrayed me as I spoke these words; Brigitte did not appear to understand and kept on walking up and down.
"Do you know," I resumed, "that we have been together now six months. The life we are leading together is not one to be laughed at. You are young, I also; if this kind of life should become distasteful to you, are you the woman to tell me of it? In truth, if it were so, I would confess it to you frankly. And why not? Is it a crime to love? If not, it is not a crime to love less or to cease to love at all. Would it be astonishing if, at our age, we should feel the need of change?"
She stopped me.
"At our age!" said she. "Are you addressing me? What comedy are you now playing yourself?"
Blood mounted to my face. I seized her hand. "Sit down here," I said, "and listen to me."
"What is the use? It is not you who speak."
I felt ashamed of my own strategy and abandoned it.