'I see,' said Berthier. 'Yes, I will trust you, and give you the promise you require.'
'That is your only chance,' pursued Madame Deschwanden. 'And then remember, I have cast myself zealously into your cause, I am enthusiastic on your behalf. But why? True, I am always eager to help forward an affair of the heart. But interest, enthusiasm, zeal, sometimes grow cold; they want hope to keep them alive, and they want something also to kindle them. Will you believe it? I have even been accused of being avaricious. I avaricious,—I who lavish money on my friends and expend it profusely on myself! They say I like money. Mon Dieu! who does not? I do not like it for itself; I hate, I abhor the dirty pelf—but, voilà—one must live.'
'Yes,' said Berthier, 'no one serves another without pay, that is reasonable.'
'Pay, ah bah! never mention such a thing!' exclaimed the lady; 'but among friends there is always an interchange of civilities, you well understand. Ah! fie!' he pressed a few gold pieces into her hand; 'what a rude, rough man you are! In these amiabilities there should be a delicacy, a refinement, an——'
'Never mind,' said Berthier, wiping his eyes; 'remember that you are salaried by me for a certain purpose. Wash that fact in rose-water, dress it up, and present it to your mind in whatever costume pleases you best.'
'You are a shocking creature,' said madame, waving her fan at him; 'I am more than half inclined to play you a trick.'
'Take care how you do so!'
'Do not fear me. Intrigue is a passion with me. I revel in affairs of the heart. Ah, my faith! when you come to deal in concerns of the grand passion! then you rise from being human to being angelic; you soar from pots and gridirons, at which you may be cooking; you tower above caps and bonnets, which you may be constructing; you become a giant. Love is woman's world; she exists in this commonplace earth, she lives in the world of passion. Leave me alone, I know what I am about. But what am I to expect?'
'I promise you a hundred louis.'