"How is it, monsieur," said the little Pompadour, "that after making so many conquests at the ball, you haven't brought a single one to supper? That is not very gallant for a hidalgo!"
"Pardon me, pretty marchioness," rejoined Chamoureau, after tossing off another glass of chablis, with which he constantly watered his oysters, "my first conquests were worth little more than a stick of candy. Frankly, I found that they were not what I was looking for, so I dropped them, as Henri Monnier says in his Famille Improvisée. But the last—oh! the last——"
"She dropped you, I suppose," said Freluchon.
"No indeed! Diantre! let us not joke about her! it's a very serious affair with her. Ah! Dieu!"
"Ha! ha! what a touching sigh!"
"Well, monsieur, why didn't you bring that one to supper—the one who is responsible for that groan?"
"I promise you that I would have asked nothing better; indeed, I invited her, but she refused—she couldn't come."
"Perhaps she was afraid of compromising herself?"
"I don't say that; and yet I can understand that in her position——"
"Ah! she's a woman with a position! Is she on the stage?"