However, it is not a crime to feel indisposed! But we weak mortals, who seek sometimes to exalt ourselves to the rank of gods, we blush because we are subject to all the infirmities of the simplest of God’s creatures; there are times when we are sorely embarrassed to be at once the man of the world and the natural man. Poor Chérubin found himself in that predicament; the plums were playing him a very treacherous trick. Madame Célival could not misunderstand the young marquis’s tone. Piqued, too, because she could no longer read in his eyes either affection or desire, she exclaimed after a moment: “Evidently, monsieur, you find it dull with me.” “Why, madame, I swear to you that that is not true--far from it; but----” “But you would prefer to be with Madame de Valdieri, wouldn’t you?” “Oh, no! that is not where I would like to be at this moment!” “Indeed! where would you like to be at this moment, monsieur?” Chérubin did not know what to reply; he endured with difficulty another sharp pain, and felt the cold perspiration standing on his forehead. He cut a very sad figure at that moment, and did not in the least resemble a lover. Madame Célival looked at him; she compressed her lips angrily, and cried: “Oh! what an extraordinary face you are making! Such a thing was never seen before--by me, at all events. Come, monsieur, speak, explain yourself; something is the matter, certainly.” And the fair widow, still impelled by the tender sentiment which spoke in Chérubin’s favor, walked toward him and would have taken his hand; but he hastily drew back, faltering in a stifled voice: “Oh! don’t touch me, madame, I implore you!” “What does that mean, monsieur? I beg you to believe that I have not the slightest desire to touch you,” retorted Madame Célival, offended by the alarm depicted on the young man’s face. “But, monsieur, I am justified in being surprised by the ill humor that has suddenly taken possession of you; I did not expect that I should--er--frighten you by showing you what pleasure it gave me to entertain you.--Ha! ha! it is most amusing, on my word!” Instead of replying to what she said, Chérubin abruptly sprang to his feet, muttering: “Excuse me, madame, excuse me--but an appointment I had forgotten--I absolutely must go.” “What, monsieur! you made an appointment when you knew that you were to breakfast with me! That is extremely courteous of you! You cannot make me believe that it is so urgent that you must go at once.” “Oh! yes, madame, yes! it is horribly urgent; I cannot postpone it any longer. Adieu, madame, adieu!” And Chérubin, after running madly about the boudoir three times, in search of his hat, spied it at last, seized it, rushed at the door, threw it open with such force that he nearly broke it, and fled through all the rooms of the suite, as if he were afraid of being pursued, leaving Madame Célival aghast at his manner of taking leave of her.