"Monsieur, silence on your part will be the best excuse. As for me, I promise you entire forgetfulness, and the pardon which you scarcely deserve."
"Madame," said Rastignac, hastily, "pardon is not needed where there was no offence. The letter," he added, in a low voice, "which you received, and which you must have thought extremely unbecoming, was not intended for you."
The marquise could not help smiling, though she wished to seem offended.
"Why deceive?" she said, with a disdainful air, although the tones of her voice were gentle. "Now that I have duly scolded you, I am willing to laugh at a subterfuge which is not without cleverness. I know many women who would be taken in by it: 'Heavens! how he loves me!' they would say."
Here the marquise gave a forced laugh, and then added, in a tone of indulgence:—
"If we desire to continue friends let there be no more mistakes, of which it is impossible that I should be the dupe."
"Upon my honor, madame, you are so—far more than you think," replied Eugene.
"What are you talking about?" asked Monsieur de Listomere, who, for the last minute, had been listening to the conversation, the meaning of which he could not penetrate.
"Oh! nothing that would interest you," replied his wife.
Monsieur de Listomere tranquilly returned to the reading of his paper, and presently said:—