"My dear sir, I confess I am better, but I cannot say I owe it to the doctor," and Beaupaire gave Marcel a comical look. "Perhaps in my turn I may be able to hope that you, my dear Marcel, are also better."
"Well, I am free from pain, but you must confess it was rather a mean trick to play on a man who had done your daughter no harm," said Marcel, looking at Violette and pretending to be very angry.
"Oh, Monsieur Marcel, please forgive me," said Violette, blushing furiously and looking very sheepish. "I really did not mean to do it."
"You didn't mean to do it, then why did you do so? I received a fearful shock, and suffered agonies for some hours afterwards."
Before Violette could reply, lunch was announced, and Marcel, following his friend Riche's advice, bowed stiffly to Violette and followed Beaupaire and Riche to the salle a manger.
Violette felt very uncomfortable and miserable as she puckered up her mouth and gave a little sigh. But it did not escape Riche who was watching the effect of Marcel's words with the eye of a connoisseur.
"It's all right, my boy," he whispered to Marcel as they sat down together, "your case argues well. I can see that you will win her."
"How do you know that?" Marcel enquired.
"Quite simply. Did you not see when she sat down that she gave a little sigh? That's one point. Then again I observed the comical look that her father gave you when he trusted that you were also better. Now, my boy, all you have to do is to keep your head and go steady, and she's yours as sure as my name's Riche."