“Well, madame, are you better this evening? Your indisposition had no serious results?”
The little countess bestowed a contemptuous glance on Chérubin, and answered in an ironical tone:
“I don’t know what you mean, monsieur!”
“You don’t know what I mean? Why, this morning——”
The countess rose, as if she did not choose to listen to Chérubin, and seated herself beside a lady with whom she speedily began a very lively conversation, judging from the frequent bursts of laughter with which it was interspersed.
The young man was speechless with amazement.
“What a tone! what an expression!” he said to himself as he took a seat in a corner. “One would think that she did not know me.”
Monfréville, who had taken his place at a card table, was not at hand to console his friend, and Chérubin had been sitting by himself for quite a long time, when a hand was laid gently on his shoulder, and a penetrating voice said, almost in his ear:
“What are you doing here? sulking? Madame de Valdieri doesn’t seem to treat you very well this evening.”
“Ah! is it you, madame?”