“For why I deserted you so basely out there, you mean? I had a wish to vary the entertainment; and I concluded you were quite happy without me.”
“Felix, that is to be like a woman.”
“Like yourself, m’amie?”
“No; when I went with M. Cabarus, I had no thought of punishing any one.”
“Punishing?”
“Do you fancy I enjoyed myself? I was thinking of what had become of you all the time, and I was miserable. I even wondered if you had gone back to Nîmes, and left me to shift for myself.”
“O! that is unkind, Fifine. What a brute you must have thought me!”
“No, that I never did. I only thought, all in a moment, that, though I had had no intention to offend you, I wanted to ask your forgiveness.”
“Fifine, your glass is empty. Drink to me only—eh? and I—you know, or perhaps you don’t know. Look at me, Fifine. I am a fool, and a remorseful fool. Let us be the best of gossips again.”
“It is too ridiculous,” she said, the tiniest of wet sparkles in her eyes. “That absurd little creature, and his airs and pretensions!”