The guests were chatting together in groups in different parts of the salon. There was a piano, but thus far there had been no suggestion of music. I walked into another room, where two whist tables were in operation. There were fewer people there. If she should come into that room, I could talk more freely with her. But she was too busily engaged in receiving her guests and listening to the compliments they paid her; she seemed to me to be a great flirt. It has frequently been said that all women are--the desire to please is so natural! As if men were not flirts, too! Everybody wishes to produce an impression: the ugly man seeks to please by his wit; this one by his magnificence, another by his generosity, another by his attentions, his servility, his flatteries; but the end is always the same. So, let us not blame women for being coquettish; nature, when endowing them with beauty, grace, and charm, seems to have taught them what use they could make of these advantages. But the one person that I cannot endure is a capricious woman; is there anything more insufferable than to be greeted coldly or sulkily, when you do not know the reason and have done nothing to deserve it? Certainly I had no right to complain of Madame Sordeville; still, after her friendly treatment of me at the wedding party, after the sort of intimacy which the disclosure of my secret had at once established between us, I had flattered myself that she would receive me less ceremoniously. But I must wait and see. Monsieur Sordeville came to me and asked me if I cared for whist. "I like all games," I replied. An old gentleman, who closed his eyes when he spoke, as if he were going to sleep, joined us; I had no idea what he said, for the fascinating Armantine entered the room where we were, and I followed her with my eyes. A handsome young man with light hair was walking behind her, talking to her in an undertone--at least, so it seemed to me; the pretty creature laughed heartily, with divers little gestures and expressions that would have brought a regiment to terms. I was annoyed; it was unreasonable of me, perhaps, but I could not bear to have her listen so to that fellow; I was strongly tempted to join in their conversation. But it was impossible; the man who talked with his eyes closed was telling me things that must have been very interesting, judging from the way he emphasized every syllable. Mon Dieu! what tiresome people there are in the world! But, among the various species, the most insufferable, in my opinion, is the man who never stops talking, who joins the story he tells you on to another one, which in turn becomes entangled in a third, after the style of the _Thousand and One Nights_; so that he is quite capable of keeping you a whole evening in a corner of the salon, without ever giving you a chance of escape, unless you decide boldly to break away from him in the middle of one of his tales.