"Let us hope," said I to the count, "that Paris will not be very long deprived of the society of a woman who furnishes such a wonderful subject for conversation. We certainly will give her the credit of having entertained everybody for the last five or six days, for no one else has been spoken of."
"I would lay a wager that you wanted to see her back again," said M. de Cernay, as he gave me an inquisitive look.
"Without wanting to see her very badly, I am willing to admit that she inspired me, if not with interest, at least with curiosity."
"From curiosity to interest there is but a single step, and from interest to love there is but one more, and so I am sure that you will become at last wildly in love with Madame de Pënâfiel. But take care!"
"In spite of all the dangers I might encounter, I should be delighted to think that your prediction could be fulfilled; for there is nothing in the world so happy as a man who is in love, even if he is hopelessly in love."
"That is just the reason why I have thought it right to let you know the real character of Madame de Pënâfiel, so that you might be on your guard if you ever were presented to her. Really, I should have been sorry to see you fall a victim to her fascinations," said the count to me, with such an expression of kindliness that I could hardly believe it to be feigned. "Between gentlemen," said he, "there are certain services one should render one another; but really, it must have been the great interest I take in you, or the desire I have to be useful to you, that made me warn you so frankly; because really—" and the count hesitated for a moment, and then began again in a serious way, in which there seemed to be a real tone of affectionate solicitude:
"Come now, would you like to know just what I think?"
"Certainly I would," said I, quite surprised at this sudden transition.
"Well, then, you know that between men there can be nothing more stupid than complimentary speeches; in spite of which I mean to tell you that there is something about you which attracts one from the very first, but after that charming first impression there seems to be something in your manner, something that is either stiffness, coolness, or a haughty reserve, that repels people. You are young, but you have neither the enthusiasm nor the trustfulness of youth. There is a contrast in your nature that I have not yet been able to explain. When you take part in a conversation of young men who are jovial, careless, and free, your face brightens up, you say things that are wilder and gayer than the gayest and the wildest; and then, when you have said the last words, you put on an air of coldness, of weariness, and seem as though you were bored to death, so that no one knows what to think of gaiety which is so closely followed by such gloomy sadness. So I will frankly tell you that it is devilish hard to take you into one's confidence, no matter how much one would like to."
You can be sure that I did not believe a word that the count said about my wonderful powers of attraction, and as I could not understand why he should want to flatter me, except for some purpose of his own, and as these compliments seemed stupid and vulgar, I decided to show him how I felt about it, and to show myself in such a light that he would spare me any such confidences in the future.