"But when is there to be an end of it all, madame? When will you cease to torment poor Albert—and when will you reward my love?"
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, you are very inquisitive, in a very great hurry. I cannot tell you yet."
"You see, I sometimes say to myself—— Excuse my frankness, madame."
"Oh! speak freely; frankness from you will astonish but not offend me."
"I say to myself: 'Is it not possible that I myself am Madame Baldimer's dupe, while fancying that I am helping her to make a fool of Albert? She wants to know everything that my rival does; if he acts as if he had forgotten her, I give her that information, and she soon appears before him, he finds her wherever he goes, and he does not hold out long against the glances she fastens upon him. It seems to me that a woman who was in love with Albert would act in that very way, and it would be quite interesting if Madame Baldimer were amusing herself at my expense, while I am thinking that it is Albert she wants to make a fool of!'"
"Ah! you have thought that, have you, monsieur? Upon my word, that would be most original; and, to speak frankly, you deserve to be treated in that way."
"How so, madame?"
"But don't be alarmed, it is not so at all. I am not in love with Monsieur Albert. I, love him! on the contrary, I hate him!"
As she uttered these last words, Madame Baldimer's face glowed, and her eyes seemed to flash fire.
"You hate him!" repeated Célestin, in a doubting tone. "Hm! that is rather strange; a woman doesn't ordinarily hate a man who has never been her lover. I should like it better if Albert were indifferent to you. Indifference is further from love than hatred is."