V
LOVE AGAIN
I went next day to visit my neighbor on the fifth floor and found her alone with her lover; the midwife was no longer there; Ernest had taken her place, no less from inclination than from necessity; for the lovers were happier not to have a third person with them all day, and what would be a privation to others is a satisfaction to lovers.
Ernest was seated beside his friend’s bed; I was afraid that I was in the way, and I intended to remain only a moment, but my visit lasted more than an hour. “Pray don’t go yet,” they said every time that I rose to take my leave. Why was it that the time passed so quickly, that we got along so well together? It was because we all three allowed our real sentiments to appear, because we talked freely of the things that interested us, and because we poured out our hearts without reserve. Marguerite spoke of the child that she hoped for, and her eyes, fastened on Ernest’s, seemed to say to him:
“We can make up for this lost time, can we not?”
Ernest smiled and spoke encouragingly to her; then talked about his two plays that had been accepted; they were his children, too. For my part, I talked to them of the theatre, balls, and love-affairs. I told them, without mentioning any names, the adventure of Bélan and Hélène. That made them laugh heartily. I was not aware that I spoke with more interest of Mademoiselle Dumeillan than of others; but when I mentioned her name, I noticed that Mademoiselle Marguerite smiled and that Ernest did the same.
At last, after one of my anecdotes, Ernest said to me:
“My dear Monsieur Blémont, I should say that you were in love.”
“In love! I! with whom, pray?”
“Parbleu! with the fair-haired young lady who talks so well, who plays the piano so charmingly, who has such a sweet expression.”
“What! Have I said so to you?”