"Couldn't you have put my room to rights a little?" I would say to Pomponne. And Monsieur Pomponne would reply, with his sly smile: "It was Mademoiselle Rosette who arranged monsieur's bedroom like that; I shouldn't venture to touch anything." I had not seen Frédérique since the day she played for us to dance. She had not called upon me again. I had been several times to see her, but had not found her. Could it be that her friendship was really jealous of my love for a grisette? That would be absurd. Friendship should be indulgent to our weaknesses, and, after all, I had not promised Frédérique to be virtuous. I could not understand her conduct in the least, but I was deeply grieved by it. I missed her; my follies with Rosette were simply transitory gleams of pleasure, while my delightful interviews with Frédérique filled my heart with a joy which had a morrow. I was sitting one day, absorbed in serious reflections, when Frédérique entered my room. I cannot describe my sensation of pleasure. I ran to meet her, took her hands, and cried: "Ah! here you are at last! I am very glad! I thought that you had forgotten me altogether." She looked at me and smiled, as she rejoined: "So you are glad to see me?" "Unkind Frédérique! can you ask such a question? Why, I have been to see you several times!" "I know it; my people told me." "But you are never at home! What sort of life are you leading, pray, madame?" "I go out a good deal, it is true." "Have you been ill? it seems to me that you are a little pale." "I am never very red. The women you see are so fresh and rosy, that you are struck by the difference." "Ah! madame, I see no woman whom it gives me so much pleasure to look at as you." "Really?" She uttered that word with an accent that came from her heart. I made her sit down beside me. She looked all about the room, murmuring: "Are you alone?" "To be sure!" "And I do not intrude?" "Once more, I tell you that you never intrude." "Oh! _never_ is too strong. What if she were with you?" "Who, pray?" "Mon Dieu! you know well enough: your dancing damsel--your Rosette." "Oh! my Rosette!" "_Dame!_ I think that I may fairly say _your_ Rosette, for she must surely have become yours since the day---- To be sure, she may be others' also, and in that case the possessive pronoun would be of doubtful propriety." "Call her what you will, Frédérique; I attach little importance to that. But I am surprised to find that my liaison with that girl displeases you. Why is it so? I can't understand. You are too intelligent to believe that such amourettes can impair the pure friendship I have sworn to you." Frédérique put her hand over her eyes and turned her face away. "But you are mistaken!" she exclaimed. "It is not true! Your liaison with this grisette doesn't displease me at all. Upon my word! why should it, pray?--But I would have liked you to know five or six at the same time; that would be more amusing; I should enjoy that immensely."