“You would have preferred a public carriage, would you not?” he asked me. “I do not, for let me tell you that carriage rides are very fashionable. There are innocent and guilty ones. You can imagine us, then, in this small carriage filled with the perfume of woman, one of those vague and penetrating aromas in which a hundred scents are mingled. Queen Anne and I were in this soft, warm atmosphere. The fog enveloped the carriage. I took her hand, which she did not withdraw. I pressed the little hand, and it returned my pressure. I put my arm around her waist. Her loins bent as if to avoid me, in reality to make me feel their suppleness. She turned to me as if to become indignant, but in reality to envelop me with her staring eyes and madden me. My lips sought her lips. She struggled, and suddenly instead of insisting, I repulsed her. It was I who said: 'No, no, no. It would be too wicked.’ I could not do that to her, and made use of the expressions usual to her sex at such times. I it was who stopped the carriage and fled! With a mistress on the other side of Paris, who loves and pleases you, to whom to bring the desire awakened by her rival, this is truly the most delightful of sports. It is very natural that Queen Anne will allow herself to be taken. The feeling that she is passionately desired and at the same time shunned is likely to provoke the worst follies in a woman, who is a little corrupt and a little cold, a little vain and a little curious.” “Then if I have understood you, my part at to-morrow’s dinner would consist of lying to the same effect as yourself when Madam de Bonnivet speaks to me of Camille? In that case it would be useless for me to accept the invitation. I will not commit that villainy.” “Villainy is a hard word. Why not?” asked Jacques with a laugh. “Because I should feel remorse at contributing to the success of this dirty intrigue,” I replied, getting quite angry at his laughter. “Whether Madam de Bonnivet does or does not deceive her husband is no business of mine, nor would it concern me if either of you injured yourself through the villainous game you are playing. But when I meet real sentiment, I take my hat off to it, and I do not trample on it. It is real sentiment which Camille Favier feels for you. I heard her speak of her love, the evening I saw her, while you were at supper with your coquette. I saw her, too, the next day when she received your cruel reply. This girl is true as gold. She loves you with all her heart. No, no, I will not help you to betray her, all the more so as the crisis is graver than you think.”