“Seeing that everybody is going out of town and the place will be a desert in a week, I’m certainly not wanted here just now.”
“And seeing that the duke is gone to Algeria, we certainly are wanted there,” said Gustave.
“And a man should go where he is wanted,” said I.
“And a man is wanted,” said Gustave, “where a lady bids him come.”
“It would,” I cried, “be impolite not to go.”
“It would be dastardly. Besides, think how you will enjoy the memory of it!”
“The memory?” I repeated, pausing in my eager walk up and down.
“It will be a sweet memory,” he said.
“Ah!”
“Because, my friend, it is prodigiously unwise—for you.”