"My dear friend," he said, addressing Alfred, "you haven’t a suspicion that I am in the secret of your love-affairs, of your conquests; that is to say, a sweet little brunette, a widow; I don’t propose to mention her name, because we must be discreet, but it seems that you made love to her in great shape, and that the said Madame de Gerville set out to put your constancy to the test——"
"Madame de Gerville! how do you know that? How do you know Madame de Gerville?"
"In the first place, I haven’t said that it was Madame de Gerville; I didn’t mention any names, did I, messieurs?"
"No, no!" cried the young men, laughing heartily; "oh, no! he knows too much for that! anybody can see that he never gets tight!"
"Why, messieurs," said Robineau, putting a glass of champagne to his lips, "I swallow this like milk; I have a head of iron!—But all the same, Alfred, the young widow says that you’re a monster! a perfidious wretch! It would seem that she was really taken with you."
"I don’t know whether Madame de Gerville was taken with me; but I confess that I was deeply in love with her,—so much so that for a moment I thought it was serious. Jenny is lively, amiable, clever; but one fine day I met a certain Clara at her house; I didn’t know that she was her particular friend; there are many women who see one another every day, but don’t love one another. This Clara is very attractive too; I told her that I considered her a charming creature—the most natural thing in the world; but it seems that she repeated it to Madame de Gerville, and that Madame de Gerville didn’t like it. Faith! it matters little to me. To the devil with constancy! I know nothing but pleasure myself!—Let us drink to the health of all pretty women!"
"Ah! messieurs, everybody must live! here’s to the ladies in general!" said Edouard.
"Yes," said Robineau, holding out his glass to touch Edouard’s, "the ladies in general! and in particular, too; for I have a particular one—ha! ha!—and a solid one, too! Virtue personified, with a wanton air, and plenty of morals—the whole disguised as a milliner."
"Aha! so your duchess is only a milliner now!" said Alfred! "and you wouldn’t invite her to dine with us!"
"Well, messieurs, what’s the odds, after all? What does rank amount to when beauty is in question?"