"And that is why you have a weakness for Alfred, I suppose?"
"Oh! never! never! I laughed at his oaths of love. Perhaps it amused me a little to listen to him.—But, although he is agreeable and bright—as to loving him, oh! I promise you that I never dreamed of such a thing. Pray do not think that!"
"If you defend yourself so eagerly, Jenny, I shall end by believing that you adore him."
"Oh! upon my word, I——"
She lowered her voice again. Robineau tilted his chair a little in order to hear; but for several minutes the two friends spoke in such low tones that he could not catch a word. At last the charming Jenny observed aloud:
"You did well, very well. I am sure that it puzzles him tremendously to see us talking together, for he thought that we were at odds. Did he never talk to you about me?"
"Why, no; he talked about nobody but myself."
"Ah, yes! of course. I assure you, Clara, that I shall remain a widow; I shall never marry again!"
"Can anyone be sure of that, my dear? Remember that you are only twenty-two years old."
"An additional reason for not endangering the happiness of my life. Is not what I have known of marriage likely to make me avoid it? Monsieur de Gerville married me when I was eighteen, having never paid court to me; without any idea whether I liked him or not, he asked my parents for my hand. He was rich, so they gave me to him. However, Monsieur de Gerville was young and good-looking. I might have loved him if he had taken the trouble to try to win my love, if he had simply tried to make me think that he loved me. I was such a little idiot then! I believed whatever anyone chose. But no—I was his wife, and he would have considered that he disgraced himself by making love to me, by paying me any attention. He had two or three mistresses who deceived him; but that was much better than loving his wife, who did not deceive him. However, he is dead, and it is my duty to forget the suffering he caused me; but I confess that that taste of married life left me with a very poor opinion of men in general. I believe them to be, as a rule, selfish, inconstant, unjust to women: they must have everything, and we must do without everything; they are pleased to be unfaithful, but they demand constancy from us; they are good-humored so long as we are fortunate enough to please them, but as soon as they begin to sigh for another woman, they do not give us another thought; instead of trying to conceal their unfaithfulness by redoubling their attentions and consideration for us, they become sulky, capricious, bad-tempered; and if we are so unfortunate as to manifest any regret at the change in their treatment of us, they accuse us of being jealous and exacting!"