"Listen, then, to me, and don't interrupt me. One of my intimate friends, who was as bad as I am, wished to be revenged on a lady of her acquaintance,--the reason doesn't matter to you. My friend was beautiful, or rather pretty, gay, giddy; you may call these good qualities or faults just as you please, and you can add that she was very entertaining and charming, and with plenty of 'go,'--excuse the vulgarity of the word,--and there you have her portrait. "The woman on whom my friend wished to be revenged was also beautiful, but pretentious, haughty, false to the last degree; she was, however, seriously interested in a man who was--why should I not say it?--was agreeable, but rather eccentric, in fact, not just like every one else; to-day he would be gay, amusing, and amiable; to-morrow sulky, peculiar, and tiresome. In one of his reasonable days, a day of good humour, and good sense, he showed himself to be very fond of my friend, who found him, she tells me, a very nice fellow, perhaps too nice. These being the circumstances, she came to ask my advice--" "And you told her, I hope, what I should have advised her myself, to revenge herself on this haughty woman by making the eccentric man happy in secret. A schoolgirl would have known that much. The easiest way is always the best." "Do not interrupt me, please. As my friend wished for my advice, I tried to sound the character of the eccentric man, to see if he were true and sincere, or indiscreet and a trifler." "Well, madame?" "Well, monsieur, I found him to be one of the few men that a woman can trust, who understand and appreciate everything, admit everything, and say just what they think, but who are quite incapable of betraying any confidence that may have been placed in them. 'If he is all this,' said I to my friend, 'you have only one thing to do,--be rash, inconsequent, bold, be what we women never are, outspoken and true to yourself; say to your eccentric friend, you wish to please me, but I know you are interested elsewhere. Now I have no desire to share your affections, but if I accept them I mean to make it impossible that you should ever have a reconciliation with the person you are to sacrifice to me. I demand that you send me all of her letters with a very compromising letter of your own; do this for me, and "live and be happy ever afterwards."' "That was my advice to my friend," said Madame de V----. "Do you think it was terribly immoral?" "I could answer you, madame, by continuing your allegory, and instantly inventing a friend of my own who might be that very same eccentric man your friend told you about, but it is not worth while. Come, let us not confuse ourselves, let us speak plainly. You know me well enough to know me safe. Do you ask me to commit such treachery? Is it only on such a condition that you will consent to all I mean to ask?" "Monsieur, you must be crazy!" "Not at all."