“Is it possible? And she remains a friend of your Excellency?” came back in irony.
“The very best; she finds me unendurable.”
“Philosophy shirks the solving of that problem, your Excellency,” was the cold reply.
“No, it is easy. The woman to be trusted is she who never trusts.”
“The paragon—or prodigy—who is she?”
“Even Madame Jamond.”
“She danced for you once, your Excellency, they tell me.”
“She was a devil that night; she drove us mad.”
So Doltaire had not given up the secret of that affair! There was silence for a moment, and then the Chevalier said, “Her father will not let her go to a nunnery—no, no. Why should he yield to the Church in this?”
Bigot shrugged a shoulder. “Not even to hide—shame?”