A young girl was leaning on his arm, and addressing him in a loud voice as "My little cat."
"Oh! no!" said he to her—"not in public! Call me rather 'Vicomte.' That gives you a cavalier style—Louis XIII. and dainty boots—the sort of thing I like! Yes, my good friends, one of the old régime!—nice, isn't she?"—and he chucked her by the chin—"Salute these gentlemen! they are all the sons of peers of France. I keep company with them in order that they may get an appointment for me as an ambassador."
"How insane you are!" sighed Mademoiselle Vatnaz. She asked Dussardier to see her as far as her own door.
Arnoux watched them going off; then, turning towards Frederick:
"Did you like the Vatnaz? At any rate, you're not quite frank about these affairs. I believe you keep your amours hidden."
Frederick, turning pale, swore that he kept nothing hidden.
"Can it be possible you don't know what it is to have a mistress?" said Arnoux.
Frederick felt a longing to mention a woman's name at random. But the story might be repeated to her. So he replied that as a matter of fact he had no mistress.
The picture-dealer reproached him for this.
"This evening you had a good opportunity! Why didn't you do like the others, each of whom went off with a woman?"