"I can well understand that," I hastened to reply. "If I had been in Adolphe's place, I would have been furious, too; for, you know, on the wedding day——"
"He's so fond of his cousin! But, after all, he could hardly pick a quarrel with the bride's brother."
The deuce! I was on the point of putting my foot in it. Cousin—brother—I didn't know where I was. So Adolphe was not the groom. I was treading on very slippery ground, and had to look carefully to my steps.
My partner, who was fond of talking, soon began again.
"As for Monsieur Dablémar, I fancy that he cares very little about it. You know the kind of man he is?"
That question embarrassed me sadly. I wondered who Monsieur Dablémar could be, and I answered, by way of subterfuge:
"Oh! to be sure; Monsieur—Dablémar probably does care very little about it. That is just what I was thinking, especially, knowing him—as I know him."
"Are you very intimate with him, monsieur?"
"Very intimate—why, not precisely, madame—but enough so—to have a—decided opinion about him."
"Do you think that he will make her happy, monsieur?"