“You avoid your true friends,” she said to me; “you live like a wolf! that is perfectly absurd. Ought you to punish us for other people’s faults? Your wife has chosen to keep her daughter—is that any reason for you to despair? Can you not go to see her?”
“Go to see her! oh! I have longed to do it a thousand times; but she is with her mother; and I could not bear the sight of her.”
“Her mother is not always with her,” said Ernest; “when she comes to Paris, and that has happened quite often lately, she rarely brings her daughter with her.”
“What! Eugénie has come to Paris already? I did not believe that she would dare to show herself here.”
“You must remember that in society you are the one who is blamed. It is you who have abandoned a lovely wife, whom you made wretched. I report exactly what people say; it does not make you angry, does it?”
“On the contrary, I am very glad to hear it. Go on, Ernest; tell me what you have learned.”
“After passing only a fortnight in the country, your wife returned to Paris. She hired a handsome apartment on Rue d’Antin. She has been going into society and has indulged in amusements of all sorts. She dresses with the greatest elegance; she is seen at the theatre, at balls, and at concerts. However, she returns often to the country, passes a few days there, and then comes back here. The night before last I saw her at Madame de Saint-Albin’s reception.”
“Yes; there were a great many people there. When I arrived, she was at a card table. She was talking very loud, and laughing; attracted by her loud voice, I walked in that direction. When she caught sight of me, my eyes were fixed upon her; she turned hers away, and a great change came over her face; her brow darkened, she stopped talking, and soon left the table.”
“Did you speak to her?”