"No, really now, I feel sad, don't laugh, it's serious," said she on seeing the young man looking at her mockingly, making fun of her recumbent posture.
Maxime assumed a ludicrous tone of voice.
"We are very much to be pitied, we are jealous!"
She seemed quite astonished.
"I!" said she. "Jealous! whatever about?"
Then she added, with her disdainful pout, as though suddenly recollecting:
"Ah! yes, big Laure! She doesn't trouble me much, I can assure you. If Aristide, as you all wish to make me believe, has paid the creature's debts and thus saved her the necessity of taking a trip to foreign parts, it merely shows that he loves money less than I thought he did. This will make him quite a favourite with the ladies again. The dear fellow, I never interfere with him."
She smiled, she uttered "the dear fellow," in a tone of voice full of friendly indifference. And all on a sudden, becoming quite sad again, and casting around her that despairing glance of women who know not how to amuse themselves, she murmured:
"Oh! I should be only too delighted—But no, I'm not jealous, not in the least jealous."
She stopped, hesitating.