Nathalie blushed, hesitated, and finally replied:
"If my friend tells me everything that interests her, do you not think, monsieur, that I should do as much? That accident of mine—which, but for you, might have been so disastrous to me—I told her about that, and naturally I told her the name of the person who had—burned himself in his efforts to put out the fire. When she heard your name, which is so well known, she cried: 'That gentleman is a friend of Lucien!'—And that is how I knew that you know him. Is that explanation satisfactory, monsieur?"
"Ah! madame, it is a thousand times too kind of you to give it to me; my reason for asking was to find out whether you had remembered me."
"It would have been very ungrateful on my part to forget you so soon."
"Mon Dieu! madame, a very clever man has said: 'Ingratitude is independence of the heart!'—That is rather sad, but it is more or less true."
"No, monsieur; ingratitude simply proves that one has no heart."
The conversation was prolonged to a great length between those two, who understood each other so well even when they were silent. But Adhémar was afraid of presuming too far, as it was his first visit; so he took his leave of Madame Dermont at last, saying:
"Will you allow me to come to see you again?"
Nathalie accorded him that permission with such a pleasant smile that it was impossible to doubt the pleasure it afforded her to give it.
As he left the pretty widow's presence, Adhémar said to himself: