"You see, fair lady, that I take advantage of the permission accorded me," said the count, gallantly kissing Fanny's little hand.
"It was presumptuous in me, perhaps, to tell you that I expected you; but I wanted to talk with you, and one has little chance to talk in society."
"You give me the most delicious pleasure—a tête-à-tête with you! It is a priceless favor to me. It is very true that in society it is difficult to say—all that one thinks; and last night, at your father's, there was a young man who seemed to be vexed at our conversation."
"Oh! Gustave.—He's an old play-fellow of mine."
"An old play-fellow? Isn't he something more than that?"
"What! what do you mean?"
"Stay, charming widow, I will explain my meaning without beating about the bush. Yesterday, when he told me that you were a widow, Monsieur Batonnin told me also that you were to marry again very soon."
"Mon Dieu! what a chatterbox that Monsieur Batonnin is! what business is it of his?"
"It is quite possible that he's a chatterbox; but, tell me, is it the truth? Are you going to marry Monsieur Gustave, your old play-fellow?"
"Yes, it is true that there has been some talk of marriage between us; but it's a long way from that to an actual marriage."