"At table, too, it was quite indecent."
Maxime burst out laughing.
"Ah! yes, we were telling each other stories. I did not know her, the chit. She's very funny. She's just like a boy."
And as Renée's face still bore the irritated look of a prude, the young man, who had never known her so indignant before, resumed with smiling familiarity:
"Do you think, pretty mamma, that I pinched her legs under the table? Hang it all, one knows how to behave towards one's betrothed! I have something far more serious to tell you. Listen to me—you are listening, are you not?"
He lowered his voice still more.
"This is what's the matter. Monsieur de Mussy is very miserable; he has just told me so. You know it's not for me to bring you together again, if you've had a row. But, you understand, I was at college with him, and as he really seems to be in despair, I promised him I would speak to you."
He stopped. Renée was looking at him in a very strange manner.
"You don't answer?" continued he. "Anyhow, I have done what I promised. Settle the matter between you as you like. But, really now, I cannot help thinking you cruel. I quite feel for the poor fellow. In your place I would send him at least a kind message."
Then Renée, who had not taken the bright, fixed look of her eyes off Maxime, replied: