“But, really, are you sure that Madame de Bergenheim loves you?” asked Marillac, emphasizing the word “love” so strongly as to attract his friend’s attention.
“Sure? of course I am!” replied the latter. “Why do you ask me?”
“Because, when you are not quite so angry, I want to ask you something.” He hesitated a moment. “If you learned that she cares more for another than for you, what would you do?”
Gerfaut looked at him and smiled disdainfully.
“Listen!” said he, “you have heard me storm and curse, and you took this nonsense for genuine hatred. My good fellow! do you know why I raved in such a manner? It was because, knowing my temperament, I felt the necessity of getting angry and giving vent to what was in my heart. If I had not employed this infallible remedy, the annoyance which this note caused me would have disturbed my nerves all night, and when I do not sleep my complexion is more leaden than usual and I have dark rings under my eyes.”
“Fop!”
“Simpleton!”
“Why simpleton?”
“Do you take me for a dandy? Do you not understand why I wish to sleep soundly? It is simply because I do not wish to appear before her with a face like a ghost. That would be all that was needed to encourage her in her severity. I shall take good care that she does not discover how hard her last thrust has hit me. I would give you a one-hundred-franc note if I could secure for to-morrow morning your alderman’s face and your complexion a la Teniers.”
“Thanks, we are not masquerading just at present.”