"Come," said she, "do not impose unnecessary pain upon me. Do you think that Palmer is paying court to me? Let us go, I have already suggested it."
"No, my dear, I am not so absurd as that. Now that you have somebody for company, and allow me to go out a little on my own account, everything is all right, and I feel just in the mood to work."
"God grant it!" said Thérèse. "I will do whatever you wish; but, if you rejoice because I have somebody to talk with, have the good taste not to refer to it as you did just now; for I cannot stand it."
"What the devil are you angry about now? what did I say that hurt you so, pray tell me? You are becoming far too sensitive and suspicious, my dear friend! What harm would be done if the excellent Palmer should fall in love with you?"
"It would be very wrong in you to leave me alone with him, if you think what you say."
"Ah! it would be wrong—to expose you to danger? You see that there is danger, according to your own story, and that I was not mistaken!"
"Very good! then let us pass our evenings together and receive no one. I am perfectly content. Is it a bargain?"
"You are very good, my dear Thérèse. Forgive me. I will stay with you, and we will see whomever you choose; that will be the best and pleasantest arrangement."
In truth, Laurent seemed to have come to his senses. He began a serious study in his studio, and invited Thérèse to come to see it. Several days passed without a storm. Palmer had not reappeared. But Laurent soon wearied of that regular life and went in search of him, reproaching him for his desertion of his friends. No sooner did he come to pass the evening with them than Laurent invented a pretext for going out, and remained away until midnight.
One week passed in this way, then another. Laurent gave Thérèse one evening out of three or four, and such an evening! she would have preferred solitude.