“No, but we guessed it from the way in which you talked of her; didn’t we, Marguerite?”
“Yes, yes; you are certainly in love with the young lady in pink.”
“Oh! I give you my word that——”
“Don’t swear, monsieur; you would not tell the truth.”
“Mademoiselle Eugénie is very pretty, it is true; but I hardly know her.”
“Acquaintance is easily made.”
“I do not know whether those ladies would care to receive me. By the way, what you say suggests to me the idea of going to see Monsieur Giraud and talking with him about it. Perhaps he won’t be fussing over his lamps to-day. I think that I will go there; I will lead the conversation to the subject of those ladies, as if unpremeditated.”
“That is right: go; then you must come back and tell us how you progress.”
I confess that the devoted love of those two young people made me long to enjoy a similar happiness. Perhaps the thought of the charming Eugénie had much influence upon my reflections. I was twenty-six years old, and I was already weary of commonplace love-affairs. Still it is very amusing to have three or four mistresses and to deceive them all, at the same time; to have them make a row, follow you, watch you, threaten you, and become more passionately enamored of you with each infidelity. And the poor husbands that you make—Oh! they are most amusing too! But amid all such enjoyments, it seemed to me that my heart was sometimes conscious of a void. Did not Ernest and Marguerite enjoy a more genuine happiness than I? I did not know, but I proposed to try it and find out.
I had eight thousand francs a year. That is not a fortune, but it is a competence. Moreover, I had gone through the regular course of study and had been admitted to be an advocate; that was something; to be sure, I had not tried many cases since I had been entitled to wear the gown. Pleasure had too often diverted my thoughts from my profession; but if I married, I should be more virtuous; indeed, I should have to be.