Having uttered these words, she darted another look at René. The lines of her mouth deepened, and her charming face suddenly assumed an expression of intense cruelty. The words had really been hurled in defiance at Claude through his most intimate friend. This friend would certainly repeat them to the jealous lover. It was just as if she had shouted through space to the man whom she could not forget in spite of his flight and his insults: 'You are not here, and so I do exactly what will cause you most pain.' She then exchanged a few words with the other visitors, recommending some poor fellow in whom she was interested to one, importuning another for the insertion of a complimentary notice in some paper, returning to Salvaney to ask him for a tip for the next races, until at last, having wiped her hands, she rose and said, 'And now, my dear fellows, it is very kind of you to stay, but'--pointing to the door--'I am going to dress, so you must go. No, not you,' she went on, speaking to René, and not minding the others, 'I want to talk to you for a minute.' As soon as they were alone, and she was again seated before the glass pencilling her eyebrows, she asked, 'Have you read Claude's infamous work?' 'No,' replied René, 'but I have received a letter from him; he is terribly unhappy.' 'Oh! haven't you read it?' cried Colette, interrupting him. 'Well, read it! You will see what a cad your friend is!' Crossing her arms, she turned to face the poet, the angry glitter in her eyes intensified by their painted rings and by the artificial pallor of her cheeks. 'Tell me, is it right for a man to insult a woman? What have I done to this gentleman? I refused to slavishly obey his whims, to cut off all my friends, and lead the life of a dog! Did he imagine that I was his wife? Did he keep me? Did I ask him for an account of what he did? And even if I had been in the wrong, was that why he must go and tell the public all the lies he can invent about me? He's a cad, I tell you--a low cad! You can write and tell him so from me, and tell him that I shall spit in his face when I see him! Your fine gentleman treated me like a drab, did he? Well, he shall find out how the drab takes her revenge! Not yet, Mélanie,' she said, as the dresser came in, 'I'll call you in a quarter of an hour.' 'But if he did not love you,' replied René, taking advantage of this interruption, 'he would not carry on in this fashion. He is maddened by grief.' 'Oh! don't come to me with such rubbish,' cried Colette, shrugging her shoulders and again setting to work on her eyebrows; 'do you think that creature has got a heart? And he's no friend of yours, my dear fellow. If you had heard him making fun of your love affairs you would know what to think of him.' 'Of my love affairs?' repeated René, in blank astonishment.