“Yes,” said Madame de Camps, “your wife and I were just discussing, as you came in, the sort of frenzy Nais has taken for what she calls her ‘preserver.’ We agreed in thinking there might be future danger in that direction.”
“From all points of view,” said Monsieur de l’Estorade, “it is an unwholesome acquaintance.”
“It seems to me,” said Monsieur de Camps, who was not in the secret of these opinions, “that you go too fast. They may have made what they call compromising discoveries about Monsieur de Sallenauve; but what is the value of those discoveries? Don’t hang him till a verdict has been rendered.”
“My husband can do as he likes,” said Madame de l’Estorade; “but as for me, I shall drop the acquaintance at once. I want my friends to be, like Caesar’s wife, beyond suspicion.”
“Unfortunately,” said Monsieur de l’Estorade, “there’s that unfortunate obligation—”
“But, my dear,” cried Madame de l’Estorade, “if a galley-slave saved my life, must I admit him to my salon?”
“Oh! dearest,” exclaimed Madame de Camps, “you are going too far.”
“At any rate,” said the peer of France, “there is no need to make an open rupture; let things end quietly between us. The dear man is now in foreign parts, and who knows if he means to return?”
“What!” exclaimed Monsieur de Camps, “has he left the country for a mere rumor?”
“Not precisely for that reason,” said Monsieur de l’Estorade; “he found a pretext. But once out of France, you know—”