“Why, yes, monsieur; she’s gone, I tell you. You are not inclined to run after her, I trust?”
“God forbid!—So she has ceased to love me?”
“As if that adventuress ever loved you! She goes with the first comer who looks to be rich! And yet that’s the woman, monsieur, that you had on your hands! You fall in love in a diligence, and crac! you scrape acquaintance, and—Look you, lieutenant, I’m no lady-killer myself, but it seems to me that a man ought to say these two things to himself in a public conveyance: ‘If this woman is respectable, she won’t listen to me; if she isn’t, it isn’t worth while to speak to her.’”
“You are right, a hundred times right! But this folly shall be my last.”
“Do you know that counting everything—conveyance, presents and board bills—your intrigue has cost us at least five hundred francs? A pretty beginning for a man who is going to try to make a fortune!”
“Oh! you’ll see, Bertrand, after this, that I’ll be so good——”
“God grant it! But to avoid meeting that lady again, my advice is that we don’t go to Lyon.”
“Agreed; let’s push on to Italy at once. Beneath the beautiful sky that saw the birth of Virgil and Tibullus, in the fatherland of all the arts—there will I, impelled by a noble emulation, turn my talents to account and try to acquire additional ones. Perhaps fortune will smile on my efforts! Music, painting, offer resources which I must not blush to employ! We will spend very little and I will try to earn a great deal; for, in all lands, the higher prices one charges, the more merit is attributed to one. And then, when I have saved a neat little sum, we will return to France to enjoy the fruit of my labors.”
“That’s the talk, lieutenant; and, more fortunate than the great Turenne, who was killed on the battlefield, we will enjoy the blessings of peace after the war.”