“Yes, I am as good as an actress or a grisette,” she said in a voice that trembled, though she spoke lightly. “But can you suppose that a woman who, in spite of her absurdities, has some intelligence, will have reserved the best treasures of her heart for a man who will regard her merely as a transient pleasure?—I am not surprised to hear from your lips the words which so many men have said to me—but——”
The coachman turned round.
“Here comes Monsieur Gatien,” said he.
“I love you, I will have you, you shall be mine, for I have never felt for any woman the passion I have for you!” said Lousteau in her ear.
“In spite of my will, perhaps?” said she, with a smile.
“At least you must seem to have been assaulted to save my honor,” said the Parisian, to whom the fatal immaculateness of clean muslin suggested a ridiculous notion.
Before Gatien had reached the end of the bridge, the outrageous journalist had crumpled up Madame de la Baudraye’s muslin dress to such an effect that she was absolutely not presentable.
“Oh, monsieur!” she exclaimed in dignified reproof.
“You defied me,” said the Parisian.
But Gatien now rode up with the vehemence of a duped lover. To regain a little of Madame de la Baudraye’s esteem, Lousteau did his best to hide the tumbled dress from Gatien’s eyes by leaning out of the chaise to speak to him from Dinah’s side.