"But, in that case, madame, what must a man do to prove that he really loves?" "In the first place, it seems to me that he should not let centuries pass without calling; you must agree, monsieur, that that is a curious way of proving one's love." "But, madame, when he is received coldly, when the person in question does not deign to address a word to him, after having given him some reason to hope; and when she laughs and talks incessantly with other men before his eyes, without any pity for the anguish he suffers----" Armantine laughed aloud, disconcerting me so that I dared not go on. "Ah!" she cried, when her paroxysm of merriment had subsided; "that is to say, monsieur, that if a woman was weak enough to listen to you and believe you, she must never listen to any other man's gallant speeches? When a gentleman accosted her, she should run away at once, lest he be tempted to offer her his homage? Perhaps, too, she ought to make wry faces, squint when anyone looks at her, for fear she might be thought pretty?" "Oh! madame!" "If that's your way of thinking, monsieur, I must warn you that you would very often have occasion to lose your temper with me. I like to have men pay court to me; I like to have them think me pretty--yes, and tell me so. I don't know whether that is coquetry, but, in my opinion, there is no greater pleasure for a woman." "No greater pleasure? Not even love? Not even to be loved sincerely?" "One does not prevent the other." "Well! tell me that you love me; let me prove to you that I adore you, and I promise not to be jealous of all the men I see fluttering about you. When a man has the certainty of being preferred to all others, then suspicion is an insult. But is he not justified in trembling, when he has received no favor?" Armantine did not reply, but she was deeply moved. I tried to take advantage of her agitation to embrace her; but she pushed me away and eluded me, saying: "What are you doing? Someone may come at any minute. I cannot deny myself to callers; the servants know that you are here." "Very well! meet me somewhere. Do you not go out whenever you choose?" "Yes, but---- One thing I will not do, and that is, go to your rooms. Someone might see me go in, and I should be ruined! I am not a _gaillarde_, like Frédérique, you know." "Let us meet somewhere." "I should never dare to go alone to any out-of-the-way place." "You can take a cab." "I should be afraid, all alone, in a cab. No, monsieur, I am no dare-devil; I am very cowardly." "Say rather, madame, that you do not choose to grant me an assignation." "Ah! monsieur is losing his temper already. Well, let me see; to-morrow I am to go to the Champs-Élysées with Madame Gerbancourt and her sister--two _petites-maîtresses_ whom you must have seen here. They are not beautiful, but they are always beautifully dressed. Madame Gerbancourt has rather a good figure; her sister is too thin." "I haven't the faintest recollection of the ladies."