"No, no! I see nothing at all unusual in all that."
"Mon Dieu! Frédérique, you drive me mad! Do you know that, to hear you, one would think you were unkind and unfeeling, and yet I know that you are not."
"She is very pretty, that young woman!"
"I told you that before. And because she is pretty—is that a reason for not doing anything for her?"
"Oh! quite the contrary! That is a reason for being deeply interested in her, for having her come to work in one's own rooms, and pass her days there.—Ha! ha! ha! Really, Rosette wasn't so foolish as I: she guessed the truth at once."
"What do you mean by that, Frédérique?"
"I mean that you love that young woman, that you are in love with her, that you mean to make her your mistress! Oh! mon Dieu! it's all simple and natural enough, and I don't blame you. You are free, and so is she; you are perfectly entitled to—to live with her, if it suits you to do so! But what I don't like, what pains me, is that you always make a mystery to me of your sentiments and your intrigues; that I never learn your secrets except from others; that you haven't confidence enough in me to tell me of your new amours. That is what angers me. For, you see, being neither your mistress nor your friend, I am nothing at all to you! So I cannot see the necessity of continuing our acquaintance."
My heart sank; I felt, not anger, but sorrow, genuine sorrow, to find that I was unjustly judged by a woman to whom I would have been glad to lay bare my whole heart, to whom I longed to tell my most secret thoughts, hoping to read her heart as she would read mine. That reproach of a lack of confidence in her touched and wounded me; as I was not guilty, I would not even try to justify myself.
I took my hat and prepared to go.
"Are you going already?" exclaimed Frédérique.