"We were speaking of my grandson just now. He is a handsome fellow, there is no doubt about it."
"There is a certain viscountess who seems to be of the same opinion. It is always M. Raoul this, or M. Raoul that, and I have seen—"
"You have seen, you have seen—Why, you see nothing at all, girl. The viscountess takes a little notice of the boy merely to blind her idiot of a husband, so he won't get mad and make a fuss when M. de Monbreuil, the viscountess's lover arrives, for I have invited him to come in a few days. There is nothing that makes a house as lively and interesting as to have a lot of lovers about, so I invite all I know; but it is strange you haven't seen through the lady's manœuvre. I warned my grandson, for I feared the innocent, unsophisticated fellow might come to grief, the viscountess is so charming."
"Innocent, unsophisticated!" exclaimed Zerbinette, shaking her head. "You're mistaken about that, madame, for his infatuation for the mistress doesn't keep him from playing the deuce with her maid."
"Dear boy! Is that really true, Zerbinette? Is there anything worth looking at among the women the viscountess brought with her?"
"There is one tall blonde with dark eyes, plump as a partridge, with a complexion like milk, and the loveliest figure—"
"And you think that Raoul—"
"You know, madame, that at his age—"
"Pardi!" exclaimed the marquise, taking another pinch of snuff. "That reminds me," she continued, after a moment's reflection, "you know all about everybody in the neighbourhood, who is it that leads the life of a hermitess in that lonely farmhouse on the Pont Brillant road? You know the place; the house is covered with vines, and there is a porch of rustic work very much like that house my grandson has just been building for his fawns."
"Oh, yes, I know, madame. It is Madame Bastien who lives there."