“But you must have seen him go into a house, didn’t you? Of course you didn’t leave him on the highroad?”
“Excuse me, madame, but that’s just what I did: I left my lieutenant in the middle of the road, about half a league from here.”
“You do not tell the whole story, Bertrand: Monsieur Auguste wasn’t alone on the road, I fancy.”
“I didn’t see whether anybody was coming, madame.”
“Oh! there must have been some peasant girl there, some rustic beauty, who captivated Monsieur Dalville!”
“What do you mean, my dear? Does he consort with that kind?” inquired the petite-maîtresse disdainfully.
“He consorts with all kinds, my dear. Bless my soul, a scullery maid, if she has a little turned-up nose, a——”
“Oh dear! oh dear! this goes far to destroy the good opinion I had formed of this gentleman.”
“I tell you,” said Madame Destival in a lower tone, drawing nearer to her friend, “he’s a perfect libertine! If it weren’t for my husband, I should never receive him. He’s a man whose acquaintance is likely to endanger a woman’s reputation. But Monsieur Destival is daft over him. He absolutely insists on entertaining him, and is forever inviting him here. I don’t like quarrels, and I let my husband do what he chooses.”
“Well, I am not so obliging; I do only what I like, and I receive only those people who suit me. Ah! if Monsieur de la Thomassinière should try to thwart me, I should instantly become subject to hysterics.”