"But I hoped that she would love me, monsieur."
"If that's your hope, don't despair; who knows? women are so strange, they have such surprising caprices; it is quite possible that she won't always spurn you.—By the way, pardon the question, but are you rich, monsieur?"
"Not very; I make four or five thousand francs a year."
"In that case, my dear monsieur, you have no great chance of succeeding with Thélénie; and if you are wise enough to follow some good advice, you will forget her and cease to bother your head about her.—But, excuse me—I go in this direction. Good-day, monsieur."
"A thousand pardons, monsieur, but it would be a great pleasure to me to know with whom I have had the honor of conversing."
"Here is my card, monsieur."
"And here is mine, monsieur; I have a real estate office, and if you should ever have any business that hangs fire——"
"Be assured, monsieur, that I shall remember you."
Beauregard walked away, while Chamoureau read the card he held in his hand, saying to himself:
"He was once Madame Sainte-Suzanne's lover! and Edmond is now! and I am nothing at all! I have acted as an information machine, that is all!—Ah! I am not surprised that she expressly forbade me to mention her name. Well! all this doesn't prevent my adoring her. Monsieur Beauregard advises me not to think of her any more; but perhaps he still thinks of her himself; if he doesn't, why does he go to see her? That is something he would have found it difficult to explain, I fancy. Perhaps what he told me about Edmond isn't true. That man has a sardonic expression; I think that I shall do well to be suspicious of him.—O Eléonore! I am grieved that I no longer weep for you!"