"What a long time since I have seen you!" I cried with effusion as I held out my hand.
Madame de Fersen coldly gave me hers, and answered:
"I believe I had the pleasure of seeing you last night at the Variétés, monsieur."
"You call that seeing one another!" I replied, with sad astonishment. "Ah, I was right when I feared that the 'conversations of the saloon' would soon be forgotten by you!"
"I shall never forget our pleasant voyage," answered Madame de Fersen, in the same cold tone. "I am greatly obliged to you for the trouble you have taken in coming to see me this morning. I wish to thank you a thousand times, monsieur, for your kindness in yielding to my daughter's capricious fancies. She is now quite well, and I fear— I do not wish any longer to take advantage of your goodness towards her, monsieur."
Madame de Fersen's tone was icy, almost scornful. What she said seemed so true, so natural, so little influenced by resentment, that I was thunderstruck. I suffered horribly, and could find no word of reply.
My silence was so marked, that Madame de Fersen found herself obliged to add, very coldly:
"I doubtless appear to you very ungrateful, monsieur?"
"Madame," I said, with deep emotion, "I do not know how I have deserved such a reception."
"And what claim have you to a different reception from me?" proudly inquired Madame de Fersen.