"Ach! you haf not seen her."
And the baron pressed my hand with new warmth.
"So id is mit me. I haf pin often to bay mein resbects, put te lady, she haf pin always oud. Haf you pin to see her?"
"No; I have left my card, nothing more."
"Ach! gut, gut! you pe not in loafe mit her shtill?"
"What, baron! are you still harping on that idea? How many times must I tell you that I have never made love to Madame Dauberny, that I have never thought of doing it?"
"Ach! ja! ja! You pe in loafe mit anoder. I haf forgot."
The baron could not understand how anybody could fail to make love to Madame Dauberny, and I could not understand how Madame Sordeville could allow everybody to make love to her; in love, each of us has his own way of looking at things.
Suddenly Brunzbrack seized my arm as if he meant to tear it from its socket. I thought that he had an attack of hysteria; but, as I saw Madame Dauberny enter the salon at that moment, I understood what had caused his convulsive movement.
Frédérique wore an original costume, as indeed she generally did. A black velvet gown, high in the neck, fitted closely to her figure, which seemed more than ordinarily slender; her hair was dressed with sprays of jet and black velvet bows, and that severe style gave to her face, which was unusually pale, a serious expression. I did not know whether I ought still to be angry with her; I remembered the decidedly brusque way in which she had dismissed me, but in the next moment I remembered all the confidence and friendship she had shown me. While I hesitated, trying to make up my mind, Frédérique passed us, and bowed coolly enough to us both.