“Naturally.”
After a few minutes of silence, Thélénie said:
“Monsieur, all comme il faut people have a house in the country, a villa to which they go for the summer. Of course you do not expect me to stay cooped up in Paris all summer, like a shopkeeper on Rue Saint-Denis.”
“Madame—I think—faith! I don’t know; I will do whatever you want.”
“I want a country house, monsieur; we will hire one.”
“Very well, my dear love; I will look about for one, I will read the Petites-Affiches.”
“Don’t take all that trouble; just tell them to put the horses in the carriage, and we will look for a house in the neighborhood that I like best.”
Chamoureau executed his wife’s orders with alacrity, while she, left to her reflections, said to herself:
“Ah! I will know this woman whom you love, ungrateful Edmond! and I will find a way to put a spoke in your love-affairs!”
Mademoiselle Héloïse, who had retained her former footing of intimacy with her old friend, because she was careful to call her nothing but Madame de Belleville, suddenly appeared, in evident uneasiness, and whispered to Thélénie: