Armantine seemed ill at ease, and hastened to change the subject. We talked about indifferent matters, but our eyes were not indifferent. Madame Dauberny did not utter a word. Was she angry with me? did she still bear me a grudge? Surely it was a long while for a kiss to rankle! I was almost grieved by Frédérique's treatment of me, but Armantine made me forget it by the amiable way in which she talked with me. I had never seen her show so much pleasure in being with me. However, I realized that I must not wear my welcome out, so I took leave of them. "Shall I still have to depend on chance meetings for a glimpse of you?" asked Madame Sordeville, as she answered my salutation. "No, madame; I shall not again wait for chance to serve me, as it might not always be so favorable." Frédérique nodded slightly in acknowledgment of my bow, but not a word, not a smile. "Upon my word," thought I, "she's very sensitive for a _gaillarde_!" Armantine, I had been told, was a flirt; and, indeed, I had been several times in a position to judge that it was not safe to rely on the hopes she aroused. But, without flattering myself that I could cure her of that failing, it was possible that she might love me. After all, I had never yet met a perfect woman; in truth, I had never sought one. In short, that lady had turned my head again by her glances and her smiles, and I had already forgotten the way she treated me at her two receptions; the resolution I had formed not to expose myself again to the risk of being made the plaything of a coquette did not hold out against the allurements she had practised on me. Mon Dieu! why should we keep our resolutions in love, when we have no resolution at all in respect to the most serious matters? On the day following this meeting, I could contain myself no longer, and I made a careful toilet with the purpose of calling on Madame Sordeville; for I had noticed that she attached some importance to the costumes of her guests. That was another pardonable foible in a woman who thought constantly of dress, and who believed, in all probability, that everybody agreed with her as to the momentous nature of the subject. I was preparing to go out, when Pomponne brought me a letter which had just been handed to the concierge with the request that it be delivered to me at once. I did not know the writing; in such cases, the first thing one does after breaking the seal is to look at the signature. I saw at the foot of the page: _Frédérique_. What! Madame Dauberny writing to me! I lost no further time in reading the letter.