“We are your oldest friends, and yet Mademoiselle Dulaurens was the first to tell us about the most important event in your life!”
“What most important event?” said Jean, in pretended astonishment.
Paule got up and walked towards the house as if she had some very important duty there.
“Your marriage,” said Madame Guibert.
“My marriage! To whom, in heaven’s name?”
“To Mademoiselle Isabelle Orlandi.”
Madame Guibert, who always meant what she said, had believed the tale of Madame Dulaurens. But Jean Berlier began to laugh.
“Oh, she was talking of my little flirtation! But I’m sure you don’t know the meaning of the English word flirtation.”
Paule went slowly up the steps. She had laid her hand upon her breast as if she were breathing with difficulty and then she quickened her step. Passing before the drawing-room mirror she stopped, surprised at her own beauty. The friendly daylight showed her a more charming face than she had expected to see. She smiled sadly at her image and her smile meant to say, “What is the good of being beautiful if you have no dowry? What is the good of having all this tenderness and devotion burning in an empty heart like a lamp in a deserted sanctuary.” At the same time she felt an involuntary consolation at the sight of her unavailing charm.
Jean’s face wore the serious air of a scientist explaining a problem.