"No, you are incapable of it, aren't you?—Well, monsieur, I have been to see my poor friend Juliette. Are you satisfied?"
"Mon Dieu! I asked you—just for something to say."
"Yes, I understand—and to find out where I had been."
"Did you see your friend Juliette?"
"To be sure!"
"And you have been to see her often of late?"
"Why not? if I can comfort her or gratify her by listening to her confidences. If you were unhappy, wouldn't you be very glad to have a true friend come to see you and try to console you?"
"Oh! when I am unhappy, I keep it to myself, and don't go and tell other people about it."
"Women are not like men, my dear; when they have troubles—love troubles, especially—they love to pour out their hearts on a friend's breast."
"Yes, women are very fond of having secrets between themselves, of being mysterious with us."