"The chagrin! so you think that the count would regret it if he should kill you?"
"I am sure of it; and it would be even worse now than if he had killed me long ago."
"You are a surprising creature, on my word! A man who has been seeking you for so many years so persistently! You must see that he is as furious as ever against you; consequently, I fancy that he would not grieve very bitterly over your death!"
"You are wrong, madame; the count is no longer furious with me; rage doesn't last twenty years; it dies long before that time. It is nothing but the sentiment of honor that impels your husband now; and that sentiment would not stifle the regret that he would feel if he should kill a man whom he once loved with the most sincere affection."
"But whom he now holds in the greatest possible detestation!"
"No, madame, I assure you that he no longer detests me. When a man grows old, he remembers the happy days of his youth much more vividly than the troubles of his maturer years; the latter are effaced in the jolting and hurly-burly of life; the first remain and rise to the surface, to divert our thoughts, to charm our memories—and that is why I believe that De Brévanne no longer detests me.—What I say surprises you—you do not agree with me; but women do not understand friendship!"
"You have an amusing way of practising it! However, how do you propose to prevent this duel?"
"As I have prevented it for twenty years; I propose to elude the count's search. I have moved already; I no longer live in furnished lodgings, and I should be very much astonished if he should find me where I am now."
Madame de Grangeville said nothing more; Roncherolle seemed to reflect; and the ex-lovers were silent for a considerable time. At last the gouty gentleman put out his hand toward his hat, and seemed about to go, when his former friend detained him, saying with some hesitation:
"Monsieur de Roncherolle, I have something to say to you on another subject of—of deep interest to us both."