"For heaven's sake, let us drop Madame Plays! I did not ask for a tête-à-tête with you, to talk about her!"
"I fancy not. But her shawl is so pretty—and I thought that someone said that you gave it to her."
"No, indeed! that is not true!"
"You won't admit it, of course—such a beautiful present! Were you so very much in love with that woman?"
"Once more, madame, I assure you that you are mistaken."
"Very well—it is possible; I am willing to believe you. But, oh! what a stunning shawl that is!"
Albert said nothing more. A thousand thoughts passed through his mind, and his brow began to darken. Madame Baldimer, noticing it, became more vivacious, more amiable, more tender, than ever; one would have said that she feared that the passion she had aroused might disappear, and that she was exerting herself to the utmost to prevent Albert's love from escaping her. He was altogether bewildered by the cajoleries which she lavished upon him; his hope that his flame was at last shared awoke to new life; indeed, Madame Baldimer's conduct fully justified that hope.
But at that moment the maid appeared in the doorway.
"Monsieur le Comte Dahlborne wishes to know if he may pay his respects to madame?" she said.
"Why, of course; show him in," replied Madame Baldimer, with an air of satisfaction; while Albert, whose features contracted when he heard the count's name, exclaimed angrily: