“I, mean to insult an old friend, when I came to confide my domestic unhappiness to him. You cause me grief, Blémont, you affect me. However, if you really think that I intended to jest about your—In the first place, I didn’t know that there was any excuse for jesting about you. However, if you want satisfaction, you know that I am not a fellow to retreat, I have furnished my proofs. I avoided the artilleryman, it is true, but one doesn’t fight with a stranger; with a friend it’s a very different matter.”
I gave Bélan my hand, saying:
“I tell you again, I don’t know what got into me. You and I fight! No, no, my dear Bélan, let us forget it all.”
Bélan shook my hand warmly.
“Let’s forget it, so I say, and shake hands. Yes, my dear fellow, I think that we may shake hands—most cordially. I will leave you, as you are preoccupied and engrossed by—er—disagreeable thoughts.—Perfidious Armide! Traitorous Armide! Pope was quite right!—Have you read Pope, my friend?”
“I—I don’t know. I think so.”
“If I had read him sooner, I should have looked twice before marrying. Do you remember what he says of women?”
“No.”
“Well, he says that every woman has a dissolute heart. What do you think of that?”
“I think that it is not polite.”