Madame de Luceval was about to ring when she paused as if a new thought had suddenly struck her, and she said to her friend, with some slight embarrassment:
"Valentine, I do hope you will not take offence at what I am about to say to you."
"Go on."
"If I am not mistaken, the object of this letter is to make some one suppose that we have spent several days together recently."
"Yes, yes, that is it exactly. Well, what of it?"
"In that case, I think it advisable to tell you that my husband is unfortunately endowed with such a prodigious amount of energy and activity that, though he is almost always out of the house, he nevertheless finds a way to be almost always in my room; in fact, he rushes in and out about a dozen times a day, so if his testimony should be invoked, he would be sure to say that he had never seen you here."
"I foresaw this difficulty, but of two dangers, one must choose the least. Send this letter without delay, I beg of you, by one of your servants; but no, he might talk. You had better entrust it to the post. It will arrive in time, even then."
Madame de Luceval rang the bell.
A footman answered the summons.
His mistress was about to give him the letter, but she changed her mind and asked instead: