"And in everything else! own up to it,édé hypocrite!"
"That's right! Why, see my flowers--how lovely they are! these roses and camellias and hyacinths and cactuses! Would the bouquet be so pretty, if I had nothing but roses?"
"Faith! yes; and I believe the only one I have ever had thus far. Perhaps that is the reason I have been so frivolous, so fickle."
"I vould like to pe a tulib," murmured the baron.
"You choose ill, baron; the tulip has very little charm for me; I care little for odorless flowers."
"In tat case, I vould like to pe--a beony."
"Ha! ha! ha! you are not happy in your choice of flowers. Well, messieurs, what did you think of Monsieur Sordeville's reception? Was the concert good? I arrived very late."
"Faith! that was lucky for your ears; for there were a lady and a gentleman who put us to a severe test. By the way, a young man, with a very light complexion, sang some ballads tolerably well. Who was he, I wonder? He talked a good deal with Madame Sordeville."
"Oh! I know: it was Mondival. He's very good-looking, but a fool; he's conceited, and I hate conceited men. I prefer them ugly--and clever. I don't mean that for you, messieurs."
And the fair Frédérique laughed aloud. The baron felt called upon to follow suit. I said nothing, for I was thinking of Armantine. My neighbor, noticing my serious face, nudged me with her knee.
"Well! he has nothing to say!" she exclaimed. "Have I offended you? But, no--I said nothing that was meant for you."
"He doesn't even know what I said! He's thinking of his Armantine; I was sure of it! Do you love her so much, then--with all your heart, as they say?"
"And it's over already, because she played the coquette?"
"She paid no more attention to me than if I had been a perfect stranger."
"But she hasn't known you so very long! And then, I warn you that she is extremely capricious."
"Oh! I have noticed that; it's a wretched fault."
"It's common enough among _petites-maîtresses_. I am not capricious, myself; to be sure, I am not a _petite-maîtresse_! Pray drink, messieurs; you lag behind. You're not lusty suppers! Look at me: I'll set you an example."
Frédérique emptied her glass at one swallow. The baron tried to do the same, but swallowed it the wrong way; he left the table, to cough and stamp on the floor. The servant brought champagne and malvoisie; the supper was delicious. I began to feel less melancholy; Madame Dauberny's example led me on, and I did honor to the good cheer.