In return for her affection, Madame Dermont demanded from her lover nothing but entire confidence; she would not admit the possibility of his being jealous, and often said to him:
"To suspect the woman you love is an insult to her; as you are perfectly sure that I love you, you should never dream for an instant that I am deceiving you."
Adhémar thought that Nathalie was perfectly right; but jealousy is a sentiment that does not come and go at the word of command; some people are born jealous, just as some are born quarrelsome, petulant, or cowardly. Education may teach us to disguise our failings, but it does not eradicate them.
One morning, calling at Madame Dermont's a little earlier than usual, Adhémar found her with a clouded brow; and although she received him with her accustomed cordiality, it seemed to him that she was distraught and that her smile was not so frank and open as usual. He fixed his eyes on hers and asked:
"Has anything gone wrong with you this morning?"
"With me, my dear? Why, no! nothing, I assure you."
"You seem preoccupied, however; is nothing troubling you?"
"What do you suppose can be troubling me?"
"Nothing, I trust! But I ask you the question."
"My dear, so long as you love me, nothing will ever trouble me."