"And when one has done one's utmost to make one's friend happy, to gratify his most ardent desires, monsieur appears in a rage, he complains, he almost threatens one with his wrath!"
"I was wrong, Freluchon; forgive me, my dear fellow. I realize now that I was wrong. But what can you expect? all these things upset me—these alternations of joy and sorrow; I no longer know where I am; I can't seem to see.—Come, my dear fellow; you have forgiven me—what do you advise now?"
"What do I advise? Oh! now, my poor friend, your case is ruined, totally ruined, the best thing that you can do is not to think of this woman any more, to forget her entirely!"
Chamoureau rushed about the room, crying:
"But I can't do it! it's impossible! every time that she maltreats me and spurns me, I am more in love than ever! Forget that magnificent woman!—for she is magnificent; and in her anger, when she glared at me like a panther that contemplates devouring you, she was superb! I have never seen anything so fine as those eyes when she said to me: 'I will be revenged; say to your friends that this jest will cost them dear!'"
"Yes; so you and Monsieur Edmond are duly warned."
"Oh! we have no fear of that woman's vengeance!"
"If I were in your place, I should dread it; she's one of the women who don't look as if they weren't up to snuff, as the plebeians say!"
"Forget her, Chamoureau; that's all I have to say to you."