The orchestra began to play a polka. I looked disconsolately at my pretty partner. "Do you polk?" I asked. "No. I waltz, but I don't polk." "But I do," said Madame Dauberny, holding out her hand. "And you know how well we danced together. Suppose we see if we can succeed as well here as at Monsieur Bocal's ball?" What an extraordinary woman! she said that as if we had known each other ten years. She was very pretty in my eyes at that moment. I hastened to take her hand, and we began to dance. I enjoyed it all the more because I had observed Saint-Bergame's horrible scowl. We danced for some time without speaking, and, vanity aside, I believe we performed very creditably. After we had twice made the circuit of the room, I could contain myself no longer. "Doesn't that gentleman who was with you polk?" I murmured. "I was sure that you would ask me that!" And she began to laugh. In truth, my question was most idiotic. But I am very prone to say such things. I am always conscious of it afterward, which is a little late. For fear of making a fool of myself again, I did not say another word. Thereupon my partner asked me: "Have you spoken with Monsieur Sordeville again?" "Yes, madame." "And he invited you to his house?" "Yes, madame." "What did I tell you? We guessed as much by your radiant expression just now." I knew then the meaning of the glance they exchanged when I approached them. But I did not like that: "_We_ guessed as much"; that identity of thoughts and sentiments was by no means pleasing to me. I have always noticed that the women who tell each other everything, their inmost thoughts and the most secret impulses of their hearts, never have anything left to confide to their lovers. With them they act, but do not lay bare their hearts. Friendship is almost always injurious to love. That is not my understanding of a profound sentiment, a genuine attachment.--But what am I moralizing about? I took the indefatigable Frédérique back to her friend. The handsome dandy was no longer there. I heard Madame Sordeville whisper: "He has gone. He said he was going away; he was furious." "Really? That doesn't disturb me in the least!" But my gentleman had not gone. I saw him not far away. If he was jealous of me, he was sadly astray: I was thinking exclusively of Madame Sordeville and waiting impatiently for the quadrille, so that I could talk with her more freely. That moment arrived at last. I stood up beside my partner; each cavalier did the same. O blessed moment! What an excellent invention is dancing! I felt that I must make the most of my opportunity; I told Madame Sordeville that her husband had invited me to come to their house. She smiled, but made no reply. I could not rest content with that. "May I hope to be so fortunate, madame, as to obtain from your lips a confirmation of the invitation I have received?" "Whatever my husband does is well done, monsieur, and I can only approve it."