"I am disturbing you," I said to Prudence.
"Not in the least. Marguerite was there. When she heard you announced,
she made her escape; it was she who has just gone out."
"Is she afraid of me now?"
"No, but she is afraid that you would not wish to see her."
"But why?" I said, drawing my breath with difficulty, for I was choked
with emotion. "The poor girl left me for her carriage, her furniture,
and her diamonds; she did quite right, and I don't bear her any grudge.
I met her to-day," I continued carelessly.
"Where?" asked Prudence, looking at me and seeming to ask herself if
this was the same man whom she had known so madly in love.
"In the Champs-Elysees. She was with another woman, very pretty. Who is
she?"
"What was she like?"
"Blonde, slender, with side curls; blue eyes; very elegant."
"Ali! It was Olympe; she is really very pretty."
"Whom does she live with?"
"With nobody; with anybody."
"Where does she live?"
"Rue Troncliet, No.--. Do you want to make love to her?"
"One never knows."
"And Marguerite?"
"I should hardly tell you the truth if I said I think no more about her;
but I am one of those with whom everything depends on the way in which
one breaks with them. Now Marguerite ended with me so lightly that I
realize I was a great fool to have been as much in love with her as I
was, for I was really very much in love with that girl."
You can imagine the way in which I said that; the sweat broke out on my
forehead.
"She was very fond of you, you know, and she still is; the proof is,
that after meeting you to-day, she came straight to tell me about it.
When she got here she was all of a tremble; I thought she was going to
faint."
"Well, what did she say?"
"She said, 'He is sure to come here,' and she begged me to ask you to
forgive her."
"I have forgiven her, you may tell her. She was a good girl; but, after
all, like the others, and I ought to have expected what happened. I am
even grateful to her, for I see now what would have happened if I had
lived with her altogether. It was ridiculous."