As I was expressing my gratitude at this opportunity of being entirely alone, Marguerite answered: "This is nothing; wait until my first of May."
I went for a short visit to the Opéra. It was very brilliant. I found M. de Cernay in our box. What he calls my good fortune continues to annoy him; for he never forgets to tell me how pleased he is to see her so seriously attached to me; it was sure to happen one day or another. Besides, she must be tired of leading such a life of excitement. Her craze for Ismaël was but a piece of folly; her inclination for M. de Merteuil was only a caprice; her other mysterious but well-known adventures were simply to satisfy a wild imagination, while the affection she had for me was quite another thing.
According to my custom, I obstinately denied my good fortune, whereupon M. de Cernay accused me of dissimulation, of trying to hide what all Paris was aware of. He finished by predicting that, if I persisted in remaining so secretive, I would never have a friend in the world. This prediction really caused me serious annoyance.
I went to Madame de ——'s ball to join Marguerite. On entering the salons I had not to go far to find her. Who can explain that instinct, that strange faculty, thanks to which an instant and a single look suffice for a man to discover in a crowded room, among hundreds of other men and women, the person of all others he desires to meet?
Marguerite was conversing with Madame de ——, when I discovered her. She received me with a perfect graciousness and a marked preference, although she was surrounded by several others. I speak of this peculiarity, because most women who have special interest in some particular man think they show a great deal of tact in receiving the one they care for most with affected indifference or even positive rudeness.
Madame de —— is very lively, intelligent, and gay, of a frank and sensible disposition, indulgent, but not commonplace, and very fierce and disagreeable, when any of her absent friends are attacked. Marguerite and I are fortunate enough to be favourites of hers. They sat down on a small sofa, and I taking a chair behind them, we made a thousand amusing remarks about every one and everything. Finally we spoke of pictures, and Madame de —— said to me:
"I know that you have a charming collection of paintings. Why do you not give us a supper some evening and invite some of our friends, so that we can all admire your marvels?"
"With the greatest pleasure," I replied. "But it must be understood that I will not invite any of the husbands; they spoil everything, like a man in a ballet."
"Quite the contrary," she said to me, "it will be very entertaining, for in many liaisons there is as much tiresome stupidity and jealousy as in conjugal life. Many husbands are very amiable, and the only thing against them is that they are husbands." After having discussed the question for some time, we agreed to invite a reasonable proportion of both husbands and lovers.
It was getting late. Marguerite begged her cousin, Don Luiz, to call the carriage. While she was waiting for it, I threw her cloak over her beautiful shoulders, and said, in a low voice, "At eleven o'clock, to-morrow?"