Camille (La Dame aux Camilias)

"And this gentleman only for five minutes. You always say something

ridiculous."

Women are pitiless toward those whom they do not care for. The count

reddened and bit his lips.

I was sorry for him, for he seemed, like myself, to be in love, and

the bitter frankness of Marguerite must have made him very unhappy,

especially in the presence of two strangers.

"You were playing the piano when we came in," I said, in order to

change the conversation. "Won't you be so good as to treat me as an old

acquaintance and go on?"

"Oh," said she, flinging herself on the sofa and motioning to us to sit

down, "Gaston knows what my music is like. It is all very well when I am

alone with the count, but I won't inflict such a punishment on you."

"You show me that preference?" said M. de N., with a smile which he

tried to render delicately ironical.

"Don't reproach me for it. It is the only one." It was fated that the

poor man was not to say a single word. He cast a really supplicating

glance at Marguerite.

"Well, Prudence," she went on, "have you done what I asked you to do?"

"Yes.

"All right. You will tell me about it later. We must talk over it; don't

go before I can speak with you."

"We are doubtless intruders," I said, "and now that we, or rather I,

have had a second introduction, to blot out the first, it is time for

Gaston and me to be going."

"Not in the least. I didn't mean that for you. I want you to stay."

The count took a very elegant watch out of his pocket and looked at the

time. "I must be going to my club," he said. Marguerite did not answer.

The count thereupon left his position by the fireplace and going up to

her, said: "Adieu, madame."

Marguerite rose. "Adieu, my dear count. Are you going already?"

"Yes, I fear I am boring you."

"You are not boring me to-day more than any other day. When shall I be

seeing you?"

"When you permit me."

"Good-bye, then."

It was cruel, you will admit. Fortunately, the count had excellent

manners and was very good-tempered. He merely kissed Marguerite's hand,

which she held out to him carelessly enough, and, bowing to us, went

out.

As he crossed the threshold, he cast a glance at Prudence. She shrugged

her shoulders, as much as to say: "What do you expect? I have done all I could."