"Bah! Madeleine, it is absinthe," said Fouchette, only half pityingly.
"No, no, no, no!" moaned the other, covering her face with her hands.
"So this Lerouge has disappeared, eh? Well, then, let him go, fool! Are there not others?"
"Mon Dieu! Fouchette, how you talk!"
"Who is this lucky woman?"
"I do not know,—I do not know! Pardon me for thinking it, Fouchette, but I was half crazy,—I thought but just now that it was—was you!"
"Idiot!"
"Yes, I know; but one does not stop to reason where one loves."
"As if I would throw myself into the arms of any man! You sicken me, Madeleine. But I thought this Lerouge, whoever he is,—I never even saw him,—had disappeared——"
"From his place in the Rue Monge, yes. Fouchette, why should he run away?"