Adolphine passed her hand across her brow, as if to brush away the thoughts that made her sad; she took up her book again, and for a few minutes tried to read; then placed it beside her, saying to herself:
"It's of no use for me to try to distract my thoughts—I cannot do it. I used to be so fond of reading! This book is intensely interesting, they say, and I have no idea what I'm reading; nothing interests me now! even music no longer has any charm for me; my poor piano is neglected; everything is a bore. Mon Dieu! shall I always be like this? Oh! no, that would be ghastly! It will pass away; it must pass away! Father has already noticed several times that I seemed sad, and it worries him; he thinks that I am sick. Oh! I don't want to make him uneasy. But it isn't my fault; I do all that I possibly can to drive out of my mind the memory of—that person—and it keeps coming back. And yet, I know perfectly well that there's no sense in it—that I'm a little fool. It's of no use for me to argue—I cannot cure myself!"
The door of the salon opened; it was Monsieur Gerbault. The girl hurriedly wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks, and strove to assume a smiling expression, as she went to meet her father.
"I have come to tell you, Adolphine, that we shall have two guests at dinner to-day."
"You are very late in telling me, father. But, no matter! I will go and tell Madeleine."
"I couldn't tell you any earlier; I met Monsieur Batonnin only a moment ago. He said: 'I am going to play a game of bézique with you this evening.' I said: 'Come and dine with us, informally.'"
"Monsieur Batonnin! I don't care much for that young man."
"Still he is very gallant—and so courteous."
"He is forever paying compliments—it's a horrible bore! And then, he always has a smile on his face. Tell me, papa, is that natural? Can there be anyone in the world who is always satisfied and happy?"
"I should say that it was rather difficult. However, there are optimists who look at the bright side of everything."