"Mere modesty on your part, monsieur; you can't make me believe that a man can compose an air without being a musician."
"One may be like Jean-Jacques, who had not the slightest conception of counterpoint."
"I don't know whether Rousseau was a consummate musician, but I wish that somebody would give us something equal to his Devin du Village."
"I am with you there, monsieur, although it should have a new orchestration."
"My wife is a fine performer on the piano, and she has a good voice; we have music at our house on Thursdays; that is the day the music lovers assemble. If it would be agreeable to you to hear them and to join them——"
"You are too kind, monsieur; it will be a very great pleasure to me. I can listen to music twelve hours at a time, without tiring."
"We shall rely upon you, then, monsieur, on Thursdays especially. But you will be welcome at any time. Do you know our address?"
"No, I do not."
"Here is my card."
Having handed me his card, Monsieur Sordeville walked away. On my word! a charming husband! he anticipated my dearest wish. And yet, he did not act like a simpleton. Oh, no! he certainly was not one of those obliging husbands who see nothing of what goes on under their roofs. Madame Frédérique was right in her prediction that he would invite me. I was decidedly puzzled; but I could see nothing in it at all that augured ill for me. Madame Sordeville was very pretty, very captivating. I felt that I should love her passionately. I did not know whether she was inclined to follow her friend Frédérique's example, but I had permission to call at her house, and that was something.