“Why not?”
“As I am very absent-minded, I fear that I might make a mistake, and call her Madame Chamoureau; and I am sure that she would turn me out of doors on the instant.”
“What a paltry reason!”
“As for Edmond Didier—oh! that’s a different matter. I hardly ever see him now.”
“Indeed? have you had a falling out?”
“Not at all; but he is in love, yes, very seriously in love this time; and as his passion lies in Chelles, he has hired a place in that region and he never stirs from there.”
“Chelles? I wonder if this passion of his can be a lady for whom I bought a little place at Chelles in the spring—Madame Dalmont?”
“Precisely; that is to say, it is not Madame Dalmont whom he’s in love with, but her young friend, a very pretty girl who lives with her—Mademoiselle Agathe.”
“Oh, yes! I remember—a very pretty blonde, that is true. I understand now why he took so much trouble to have that purchase concluded so quickly: Mademoiselle Agathe had already caught his eye.”
“Parbleu! when a young man becomes so obliging, so zealous, so eager to make himself useful, you may be sure that love has something to do with it.”