Be that as it may, she was enjoying herself. This young man was not a fool, nor was he mediocre, nor yet servile. She listened so attentively that she did not notice that they had passed over the Seine.
They climbed the rue des Saints Pères, where drivers of entangled carriages abused each other. At times an omnibus rocked noisily, and hit the stone curb with its trembling wheels. Mlle. Raindal and Boerzell huddled close to the shops. Then the terrible machine having passed them, they went on again. Now it was Boerzell who asked questions, inquiring of the gir studies, and Mlle. Raindal readily answered, gave him the time-table of her work and the rules of her studies.
When they turned the corner of the Boulevard St. Germain, Boerzell suddenly sighed:
“What a pity!” he murmured.
“What?” Thérèse asked.
The drizzle had ceased and he closed his umbrella.
“Nothing, mademoiselle.... Or rather, yes.... It is a pity that I do not please you more.... Oh! I had guessed that much at the Saulvard ball, even without the help of the silence you preserved afterwards.... I could see it in your eyes when you left.... And yet, believe me if you like, the more I talk to you, mademoiselle, the more I am convinced that we would have made an excellent couple.”
This declaration was so unexpected that Thérèse could not repress a sudden laughing exclamation.
“We?” she said.
“Yes, we, quite so, we!...” Boerzell went on, with a pouting movement of his lips which gave a touch of puerility to his bearded childlike face.... “It is useless, is it not, between people of our type, to play a comedy?... They introduced us to each other in order to have us marry. Well, suppose, mademoiselle, that I had pleased you, at that ball....”