"You are wrong, my dear B....," said the Count. "The women of Paris are not so headlong as you think. They reason with their hearts, and pay attention to convenances without regard to inclination. Besides, the man they love occupies only the second place in their hearts. _They_ come first and _he_ afterwards. Often, too, the toilette occupies the second place with amusements and pleasures. They prefer the attention of one to the love of all. _Liasons_ in France are elegant, _recherché_, and refined. They never violate good taste, and even in their despair French women are charming. They quarrel behind a fan, tear a bouquet to pieces, and shred the lace of a handkerchief. They weep, and stop soon enough not to stain the eyes, and when they have fainting-fits, are very careful not to disturb their curls. Great suffering just stops short of a nervous attack, and fury never breaks either china bracelets or jewelry, though it is merciless on lovers' miniatures. Three months after, if the offended lady meet the gentleman in a drawing-room, she will ask the person next her, 'Pray tell me who that gentleman is, I think I have seen him somewhere.' In Spain and Italy they avenge themselves, and do not pardon men who are inconstant until they too are false. Woe to him whose love is the first to end. He henceforth has but the storm and the thunder-bolt. Hatred and vengeance--the first is found in France--women in Italy kill. I tell you your countrywomen are not romantic, and suffer themselves to be led astray only after due reflection." "Well, for my own part," said d'Harcourt to Monte-Leone, "I know a woman who adores you in secret, who never speaks of you without blushing, who looks down when your name is mentioned, and who looks up when she sees you." Taddeo looked at the Vicomte with surprise. Two names occurred to him, that of the Duchess, and yet of another person. Monte-Leone, like Taddeo, was afraid that the young fool, whose greatest virtue was not temperance, would be indiscreet. "Gentlemen," said he, "the Vicomte is about to be stupid. In the name of our friendship I beg him to be silent." "Bah, bah!" said d'Harcourt, becoming yet more excited, and draining his glass of champagne, _in vino veritas_. "The proof of what I say is that Monte-Leone is afraid. I shall name the victim of the passion he has inspired. I wish to reinstate him in your eyes, for he has represented himself as deserted and abandoned by the fair sex, when one of the fairest adores him, and would sacrifice name and rank for him." "Vicomte," said Monte-Leone, enraged and rising, "do not make me forget my intimacy with you of five years' duration." "You will not forget it--you will like me all the better for what I am about to say. Besides it is nothing but humanity. You would not let the poor woman die when you can save her?" "Again I ask you to stop," said Monte-Leone.