"I am an idiot! Indeed, she is right; I was an idiot to love her! But it's all over, yes, forever! She thinks that she can bring me to her feet, enslave me again, with a word and a smile! But, no, I will not be her dupe again; I know her now!"
Dubourg rubbed his eyes and looked at Frédéric, who was pacing the floor with an air of desperation, sometimes stopping to beat his forehead, sometimes smiling bitterly.
"Who in the devil are you talking about, my dear fellow?"
"Why, Madame Dernange, that woman whose heart is as false as her face is pretty, that coquette whom I have adored for two months, and who, as I believed, loved me. But, my dear Dubourg, she was making a fool of me."
"And that surprises you? Ah! my poor Frédéric, what a boy you still are!"
"She made me believe that she reciprocated my love; and this evening, a new-comer, a colonel, has stolen her heart from me, apparently without much difficulty. I was strongly tempted to insult the fellow and kill him."
"Would that have made your Madame Dernange less fickle?"
"No, of course not; that is what I said to myself."
"In making love to her, he did what any other man would have done in his place. You ought not to bear him any grudge for it; on the contrary, you ought to be grateful to him, for he has taught you to know a woman who was making a fool of you."
"I believe you are right," said Frédéric sadly, seating himself in an easy-chair, while Dubourg, now wide awake, thought it a fitting moment to deliver a lecture to his friend.