“When you left me in the swing, didn’t you take him away with you, and leave in his place the charming Monsieur Monin, whose society is so entertaining?”
“Monsieur Auguste left me immediately; he must have gone for a walk to the village.”
“Do you know, my dear, that I should not have recognized Monsieur Dalville from the picture that you drew of him. In the first place, you said that he wasn’t good-looking, that he had a common look.”
“I did not say common, I swear.”
“That he hadn’t good style, that he was a rake, a ne’er-do-well, a man whose visits might compromise a woman.”
“Oh! you exaggerate, my dear!”
“I beg your pardon, but you said all that, you drew a shocking portrait of him! For my part, I think him very good-looking, and I like his manners very much.”
“That is very fortunate for him, madame.”
“Well! what on earth are you doing? You are putting on your belt inside out.”
“Why, so I am! I have fits of absent-mindedness.”