Adolphe--that must be the groom's name. "I can well understand that," I hastened to reply. "If I had been in Adolphe's place, I would have been furious, too; for, you know, on the wedding day----" "He's so fond of his cousin! But, after all, he could hardly pick a quarrel with the bride's brother." The deuce! I was on the point of putting my foot in it. Cousin--brother--I didn't know where I was. So Adolphe was not the groom. I was treading on very slippery ground, and had to look carefully to my steps. My partner, who was fond of talking, soon began again. "As for Monsieur Dablémar, I fancy that he cares very little about it. You know the kind of man he is?" That question embarrassed me sadly. I wondered who Monsieur Dablémar could be, and I answered, by way of subterfuge: "Oh! to be sure; Monsieur--Dablémar probably does care very little about it. That is just what I was thinking, especially, knowing him--as I know him." "Are you very intimate with him, monsieur?" "Very intimate--why, not precisely, madame--but enough so--to have a--decided opinion about him." "Do you think that he will make her happy, monsieur?" "Whom, madame?" My pretty partner stared at me in amazement as she exclaimed: "What do you say? whom? Why, his wife, our dear Anna!" So Monsieur Dablémar was the bridegroom; there was no longer any doubt. "Oh! I beg your pardon, madame," I hastily replied. "I meant to say that she will be happy, madame, very happy. At least, that is my honest opinion." "I love to think that you are not mistaken. I knew Anna at boarding school; I know that she has an excellent disposition; and a husband must needs be very uncongenial to induce her ever to complain of her lot. But still, to speak frankly, the other one was prettier." Once more I was beyond my depth. Who was this other one of whom she was speaking? I turned and looked in another direction; but my partner stuck to the point. "And yet," she continued, "they say that he did not love her, that he neglected her sadly. You must have known her, monsieur, being a friend of Monsieur Dablémar?" "Known whom, madame?" This time my partner looked at me in a very singular way; I was convinced that she believed that she had fallen in with a lunatic. She simply said, with a smile: "You are absent-minded, aren't you, monsieur?" "It should not be possible with you, madame." This compliment changed the current of my pretty brunette's thoughts, and fully restored her amiability.--Oh! flattery! It is like calumny--some trace of it always remains. "Your gallantry, monsieur, cannot prevent my thinking that you are absent-minded. Still, you may have reasons for not choosing to answer the questions I asked you." "Well, madame, it is true, I have reasons--very strong ones, indeed." "I understand."