“Poor Denise was very downhearted when she went away,” said Bertrand to Auguste on the day following the girl’s trip to Paris.
“I was very sorry indeed not to be able to talk with her any longer,” Dalville replied; “but it wasn’t my fault—that lady was waiting for me.”
“That lady! That lady might perhaps have waited a few minutes more.”
“Bertrand!”
“Excuse me, lieutenant; the fact is, I was really distressed to see you hardly speak to that girl, at whose home we were treated so hospitably. Just remember the welcome they gave us, and how delighted they were to see you!”
“Oh! I haven’t forgotten it.”
“You didn’t even thank her for her present!”
“I didn’t see it. But we will go to the village soon, and I will make up for my neglect. I am to dine at Madame de la Thomassinière’s to-day, Bertrand; there will be a lot of people, and a large party in the evening. Probably I shall not come home until morning. By the way, make a memorandum to the effect that I have lent a hundred louis to Monsieur le Marquis de Cligneval, who was very unlucky at cards a day or two ago, at a house where I happened to be; he is to pay me very soon.”
Bertrand did not reply; but as he went to the cash-box he muttered:
“More money that we shall never see again! He’s forever lending, and no one ever pays him back!”