“Ah! I am no fool. I think I have found out the cause of our being deprived of your visits. It must have been something serious. See if I haven’t some wit left.... The person you dislike is M. Louis, is it not?”
“You are right, my friend,” replied Albert, patting Durand on the shoulder in a familiar manner.
“There are others who do not like him any better than you.”
“Not you? You are his assistant at the school, and seem on the best of terms with him.”
“Seem? Yes, I seem; but to seem and be are sometimes very different things. Listen: the very instant I saw you—excuse my frankness—you inspired me with so much confidence that, faith, I feel inclined to tell you all that is on my mind. It would do me good.”
“Do not be afraid of my betraying you, mon cher; speak to me as a friend.”
“O monsieur! you are too kind. Well, since you allow me, I tell you plainly I do not like that man; no, not at all.”
“He has been insolent and overbearing towards you, I know.”
“If that were all, I could forgive him. But it is not a question of myself. I dislike, I detest him for another reason. Whoever likes Mr. Smithson cannot like the engineer, as I can convince anybody who wishes it.”
“Explain yourself; I do not exactly understand you.”