“Do tell me, Eugène, what all this means? Mon Dieu! how things are changed about! the couch in the study; the bed partly tumbled; the remains of a breakfast. What happened here last night?”
“Nothing, I assure you.”
“Oh! nothing out of the ordinary course, I understand that. But this couch puzzles me. Tell me about it, Eugène, my little Eugène. Because you are no longer my lover is no reason why we shouldn’t be friends.”
You are aware, reader, that Mademoiselle Agathe is the milliner with whom I had fallen out because I discovered that she was unfaithful to me. In fact, it was my vexation on her account that had led me to indulge in those melancholy reflections during my stroll along the boulevard on the preceding evening. But since then my susceptible heart had experienced so many new sensations, that the memory of Agathe’s treachery had vanished altogether; I had ceased to regret her, consequently I was no longer angry with her. I realized that she was justified in joking me about my serious air, which was not at all consistent with our former liaison, and which might have led one to think that I expected to find a Penelope in a young milliner. So I assumed a more cheerful demeanor, and questioned her in my turn.
“How did you happen to be there on my landing, talking with Raymond, whom you could never endure?”
“But this couch—this couch here in the study?”
“You shall know all about it, but answer me first.”
“Oh! I’ve no objection; I went into the country yesterday with Gerville—you know, the young government clerk who lives on the floor below.”
“Yes, my successor, in fact.”
“Your successor, call him so. We returned late; I was very tired, and——”