Her eyelids were red; she had been weeping.
Then, forcing a smile:
"Pardon me; I am in the wrong. Sad thoughts have taken possession of my mind."
He could not understand what she meant to convey by the last words.
"No matter! she is not so hard to overcome as I imagined," he thought.
She rang for a glass of water, drank a mouthful of it, sent it away again, and then began to complain of the wretched way in which her servants attended on her. In order to amuse her, he offered to become her servant himself, pretending that he knew how to hand round plates, dust furniture, and announce visitors—in fact, to do the duties of a valet-de-chambre, or, rather, of a running-footman, although the latter was now out of fashion. He would have liked to cling on behind her carriage with a hat adorned with cock's feathers.
"And how I would follow you with majestic stride, carrying your pug on my arm!"
"You are facetious," said Madame Dambreuse.
Was it not a piece of folly, he returned, to take everything seriously? There were enough of miseries in the world without creating fresh ones. Nothing was worth the cost of a single pang. Madame Dambreuse raised her eyelids with a sort of vague approval.
This agreement in their views of life impelled Frederick to take a bolder course. His former miscalculations now gave him insight. He went on: