"That is the truth, madame; you have made me love the country."
Armantine bit her lips, and continued:
"You receive a great deal of company here, no doubt? It"s so near Paris!"
"Why, no; on the contrary, I receive no one. Except for two gentlemen who live near,--and them we see only once or twice a week,--we are always alone, Charles and I."
Armantine frowned slightly with vexation, but instantly tried to change the frown into a smile. It was the first time that she had heard Frederique call me Charles, and that evidence of familiarity did not seem to cause her the keenest pleasure.
"So you have left your place of retirement at Pa.s.sy?" said Madame Dauberny, after a pause.
"Oh! a long while ago--I was bored to death there. One sees too many people in that region, and I prefer solitude now. I came here to take a house, because I thought it would be quieter, more like the country."
"But, still, if you are bored----"
"It is sometimes unwelcome visitors who bore one. One is happier alone with one"s memories."
As she said this, Armantine cast a melancholy glance in my direction.
Frederique noticed it, and she at once rose, saying:
"Come, inspect my house and garden.--Will you come with us, Charles?"
"No, madame; I have some letters to write."
I bowed, and returned to my pavilion. I had an idea that Frederique was quite willing that I should not attend them; besides, those two old friends might have innumerable things to say to each other after so long a separation, and I did not wish to intrude.
The presence of that woman, with whom I had been deeply in love, had caused some disturbance in my mind, I admit; but it was of very brief duration; it was surprise, the emotion due to the evocation of the past, and there was nothing in my heart that at all resembled love for her.
Armantine was still very pretty, there was no denying that; but her eyes, sometimes so expressive, and her seductive smile, could not efface from my memory the disdainful, insolent air with which she left me that day on the Champs-elysees.
I remained in my room all day. When I returned to the salon, Frederique was alone. I sat down beside her.
"Has your friend left you?"
"Yes. Did you hope to find her here?"
"I? Why do you ask me that?"
"You answer my question with another; that is very convenient. But do you think that I should regard it as a crime if it gave you great pleasure to meet a woman whom--whom you once adored--whom you still love, probably?"
"Oho! so you think that I still love her, do you?"
"What would there be extraordinary in that? When a pa.s.sion has not been--satisfied--there is no reason why it should end."
"And you think, do you, that it should end as soon as it is satisfied?"
"I think--that I am only your friend, whereas Armantine----"
"Well?"
"Mon Dieu! I don"t know what I am saying! That unexpected visit, the idea of having her for a neighbor----"
"You must have been glad to see your friend again?"
"Oh, yes! of course, I am delighted! She will probably come every day; as she knows that you are here, she certainly won"t miss a day."
"Ah! you think that she will come on my account?"
"On yours--or mine--I"m sure I don"t know. However, we shall see."
Frederique sighed. All the rest of the evening, she was sad and pensive; for my part, I too was preoccupied. We parted earlier than usual, and she did not look at me as she did the night before, when she said:
"Until to-morrow!"
On the following day, I proposed to Frederique that we should take a long walk; she a.s.sented, and we started. We had not walked fifty yards, when we saw Armantine coming toward us. I noticed that she was dressed more coquettishly than on the day before. Frederique could not restrain an angry gesture as she muttered:
"Ah! it seems that she was watching us! This bids fair to be amusing!"
"Are you going to walk?" asked Armantine, looking at me.
"It looks rather like it," replied Frederique.
"Will you allow me to go with you? As I don"t know the country at all, I am very glad to find guides."
"You have the right to come with us. But I warn you that I am a good walker, and Charles and I take very long walks."
"Oh! I can walk very well!--Besides, if I get tired, I fancy that monsieur will kindly give me his arm."
"It will be at your service, madame," I replied, with cold courtesy.
But Frederique, who had my arm at that moment, instantly dropped it, saying:
"In the country, people walk singly; that"s the most convenient way."
I looked at her in surprise, for we were not accustomed to walk so.
We started again. Armantine went into ecstasies over the scenery; she kept exclaiming every minute:
"Why, it is perfectly lovely here! I am delighted that I came; I am immensely pleased already!"
Frederique said nothing, or replied only by a few curt phrases. I carried on the conversation with Madame Sordeville, who constantly asked me for information about the region, and was never at a loss for questions which enabled her to talk with me. I fancied that I could see that Frederique was irritated by it; but I could not be discourteous to the other, who talked to me incessantly.
Our walk was gloomy enough. Frederique was the first to suggest returning. Thereupon Armantine complained of being tired. It was impossible to avoid offering her my arm, which she eagerly accepted. I offered the other to Frederique, but she refused it. I wondered what the matter was.
Armantine left us at her door, having informed her friend that she would pa.s.s the evening with her.
Frederique was pale and excited; I asked her the cause of her anger, and why she had refused my arm.
"In order to leave you alone with the object of your love!" she replied, with a piercing glance that seemed to seek to read my inmost thoughts.