"Let her run, my dear fellow; I promise you that she will never catch me." "You are quite sure of yourself?" "Oh, yes! perfectly sure." "You see, she is a damnably shrewd little wheedler, is the widow! I should feel surer of you if you loved somebody else." "Somebody else! You must admit, Cherami, that my love for Fanny hasn't resulted in a way to encourage me." "All women are not Fannys; there are some who are tender-hearted, sweet, affectionate; who would be so happy to be loved by you." "Happy to be loved by me! What, in heaven's name, makes you think so?" "I think so--because I am sure of it." "You are sure that there is someone who would love me?" "Oh! better than that; I am sure that someone does love you--cherishes a secret passion for you--a sentiment which she has always hidden, kept locked up in the depths of her heart; because it was hopeless, because she was simply the confidante of your love for another." "Mon Dieu! what do you mean?" cried Gustave, as if his eyes were suddenly opened; "you think that Adolphine----" "Ah! you have guessed--so much the better; that proves that you had thought of the thing before." "No, indeed. What makes you think that Adolphine ever gives me a thought?" "If you hadn't been in love with another woman, you would have discovered it yourself long ago. I had already guessed it from a multitude of little things: the way she looked at you--for a woman doesn't look at the man that she loves in the same way as at other men; I have studied that subject; but what proved conclusively to me that she loved you was what happened when I went to Monsieur Gerbault's to tell him of poor Auguste's unhappy end. I was embarrassed about telling the story, and I didn't make my meaning clear; Mademoiselle Adolphine thought that it was your death I was trying to tell them of. Instantly she gave a shriek of despair, and fainted; we had a great deal of difficulty in reviving her, and I had to keep saying again and again: 'It isn't Gustave who is dead!' before she recovered her senses. So that I whispered to myself: 'It's this one, and not the other, who cares for my young friend;' and I have a shrewd idea that Papa Gerbault reasoned just as I did." "Why did you never tell me all this, Cherami?" "Because it wasn't worth while to sing a pretty tune to a deaf man; you were daft then over your Fanny, you wouldn't have listened to me." "Thanks, my friend, thank you for having observed it all. You cannot conceive the emotion it causes me." "Why, yes, it's always pleasant to know that one has turned the head of a pretty young girl." "Poor Adolphine! If it were true! If she really does love me!"