Frédérique said nothing; she sat erect in her chair, with her head thrown back a little, so that I could not see her face; but, as a compensation, I was able to look at Armantine to my heart's content, for she turned to me and said, with the same charmingly amiable expression: "Why have you abandoned us so entirely, monsieur? Our house must have offered you very little attraction. Indeed, I can easily believe that our small parties are not very amusing; and yet, I had imagined that you would enjoy yourself there. I was very foolish, was I not?" "No, madame; you were quite right. But urgent business----" "Oh! don't talk like that, monsieur; you know perfectly well that we don't believe anything of the sort. You have found more entertainment with others, and you have been very sensible to give them the preference." "You know that that is not true, madame." "Know it, monsieur? How do you expect me to know anything, except that you suddenly ceased to come to us? It seems to me that I could not very well ask you the reason. I was talking with Frédérique about you a moment ago." "What! you thought of me, madame?" "Yes," murmured Frédérique, swaying back and forth on her chair; "Armantine was saying that you sang ballads beautifully." Madame Sordeville nudged her friend; I believe, indeed, that she pinched her. As for myself, being not at all wounded by that malicious remark, I hastened to reply: "If I had any pretension to be considered a singer, madame, what you have just said might mortify me; but as it has never occurred to me to hold myself out as anything of the sort, I will be the first to laugh with you over my performance at Madame Sordeville's." "Mon Dieu! Monsieur Rochebrune, I have no idea why Frédérique said that; I don't think that she did it to laugh at you, for, after all, it may happen to anyone not to be in condition for singing--to have trouble with his throat;--and he may sing perfectly well another time." "He takes his revenge," said Frédérique, in an undertone. "'This play is by a clever man who will take his revenge sooner or later.'--That's the consecrated phrase of newspaper critics after a play has failed." "You seem to be very ill-disposed toward me, madame," I said, trying to catch a glimpse of Madame Dauberny's face; but I could not succeed. "I, monsieur? Not in the least; I am joking, that's all. I am not one of those people whose feelings are changed by a false note."