“It was true, madame, that time did not allow of my making an explanation of those circumstances; but, in any case, having the honor of speaking to you for the first time, it would have been strange, would it not, had I ventured to make you any confidences?”
“Well, but now?” I said, boldly.
“Now, unless I receive more express encouragement, I am still unable to suppose that anything in my past can interest you.”
“Why not? Some acquaintances ripen fast. Your devotion to my Nais has advanced our friendship rapidly. Besides,” I added, with affected levity, “I am passionately fond of stories.”
“But mine has no conclusion to it; it is an enigma even to myself.”
“All the better; perhaps between us we might find the key to it.”
Monsieur Dorlange appeared to take counsel with himself; then, after a short pause he said:—
“It is true that women are admirably fitted to seize the lighter shades of meaning in acts and sentiments which we men are unable to decipher. But this confidence does not concern myself alone; I should have to request that it remain absolutely between ourselves, not even excepting Monsieur de l’Estorade from this restriction. A secret is never safe beyond the person who confides it, and the person who hears it.”
I was much puzzled, as you can well suppose, about what might follow; still, continuing my explorations, I replied:—
“Monsieur de l’Estorade is so little in the habit of hearing everything from me, that he never even read a line of my correspondence with Madame Marie-Gaston.”