"Oh! a long while ago--I was bored to death there. One sees too many people in that region, and I prefer solitude now. I came here to take a house, because I thought it would be quieter, more like the country." "But, still, if you are bored----" "It is sometimes unwelcome visitors who bore one. One is happier alone with one's memories." As she said this, Armantine cast a melancholy glance in my direction. Frédérique noticed it, and she at once rose, saying: "Come, inspect my house and garden.--Will you come with us, Charles?" "No, madame; I have some letters to write." I bowed, and returned to my pavilion. I had an idea that Frédérique was quite willing that I should not attend them; besides, those two old friends might have innumerable things to say to each other after so long a separation, and I did not wish to intrude. The presence of that woman, with whom I had been deeply in love, had caused some disturbance in my mind, I admit; but it was of very brief duration; it was surprise, the emotion due to the evocation of the past, and there was nothing in my heart that at all resembled love for her. Armantine was still very pretty, there was no denying that; but her eyes, sometimes so expressive, and her seductive smile, could not efface from my memory the disdainful, insolent air with which she left me that day on the Champs-Élysées. I remained in my room all day. When I returned to the salon, Frédérique was alone. I sat down beside her. "Has your friend left you?" "Yes. Did you hope to find her here?" "I? Why do you ask me that?" "You answer my question with another; that is very convenient. But do you think that I should regard it as a crime if it gave you great pleasure to meet a woman whom--whom you once adored--whom you still love, probably?" "Oho! so you think that I still love her, do you?" "What would there be extraordinary in that? When a passion has not been--satisfied--there is no reason why it should end." "And you think, do you, that it should end as soon as it is satisfied?" "I think--that I am only your friend, whereas Armantine----" "Well?" "Mon Dieu! I don't know what I am saying! That unexpected visit, the idea of having her for a neighbor----" "You must have been glad to see your friend again?" "Oh, yes! of course, I am delighted! She will probably come every day; as she knows that you are here, she certainly won't miss a day." "Ah! you think that she will come on my account?" "On yours--or mine--I'm sure I don't know. However, we shall see." Frédérique sighed. All the rest of the evening, she was sad and pensive; for my part, I too was preoccupied. We parted earlier than usual, and she did not look at me as she did the night before, when she said: "Until to-morrow!"