Shortly afterwards Conrart asked Madeleine if she was ready to go, and they rose. A wave of inexpressible bitterness and self-reproach broke over Madeleine as Mademoiselle de Scudéry took her hand absently and bade her good-bye. Her new god in a dressing-gown had loyally done his part, but she, like a fool, had spoiled it all. And yet, she felt if she had it all over again, she would be seized by the same demon of perversity, that again all her instincts would hide her real feelings under a wall of shields. And Conrart, what would he think of her? However, he seemed to think nothing in particular. He was evidently trying to find out what Madeleine’s impressions of the company had been, and when she, anxious to make atonement, praised them enthusiastically, he chuckled with pleasure, as if her praise enhanced his own self-importance. ‘But the rest of us are but feeble luminaries compared to Sappho—the most remarkable woman of the century—she was in excellent vein on Beauty and Wit.’ It was on the tip of Madeleine’s tongue to say ‘A trifle pedantic!’ but she checked herself in time. ‘She always does me the honour of spending part of July and August at my little country house. It is delicious to be her companion in the country, the comparisons she draws between life and nature are most instructive, as well as infinitely gallant. And like all les honnêtes gens she is as ready to learn as to instruct; on a fine night we sometimes take a stroll after supper, and I give the company a little dissertation on the stars, for though she knows a thousand agreeable things, she is not a philosopher,’ he added complacently.
‘Ah, but, Monsieur, a grain of philosophy outweighs an ounce of agreeable knowledge; there is a solidity about your mind; I always picture the great Aristotle with your face!’ Madeleine’s voice was naturally of a very earnest timbre, and this, helped by her lack of humour and a halting way of speaking which suggested sincerity, made people swallow any outrageous compliment she chose to pay them. Conrart beamed and actually blushed, though he was perpetual and honorary secretary of the Academy, and Madeleine but an unknown young girl!
‘Aristotle was a very great man, Mademoiselle,’ he said modestly. Madeleine smiled. ‘There have been great men since Agamemnon,’ she said. Really this was a very nice girl!
‘Mademoiselle, I would like you to see my little campagne——’ he began.
‘That would be furiously agreeable, but I fear I could not come till the end of July,’ said Madeleine with unwonted presence of mind.
‘Dear, dear, that is a long while hence, but I hope we shall see you then.’
‘You are vastly kind, Monsieur; when shall I come?’ Madeleine asked firmly.
‘Well—er—let me see—are you free to come on the first day of August?’
‘Entirely, I thank you,’ cried Madeleine eagerly. ‘Oh! with what pleasant expectancy I shall await it!—and you must promise to give me a lesson about the stars.’ The beaming old gentleman promised with alacrity, and made a note of the date in his tablets.
At that moment, Madeleine caught sight of Jacques, strolling along the Quay, and suddenly filled with a dread of finding herself alone with herself, she told Conrart that she saw her cousin, and would like to join him.