"Mon Dieu! that is a very ridiculous individual, whom one of my aunts sent to me. He is fresh from the provinces and is seeking employment. But, as he is a terrible bore to me, I receive him in such fashion that he soon brings his visits to an end. He's as stupid as he is ugly." "Why, he didn't strike me as being so very ugly." "Bah! how did you look at him? He is horrible! A hideous nose and sunken eyes, and such an awkward, ridiculous figure! Oh! I can't endure the man." Auguste pushed his questions no farther and said no more about the little man; but he was secretly vexed to hear her speak so ill of him, because he knew the tactics of ladies of her stamp, who often employ that method to conceal their intimacy with a person. On returning to his own rooms, Auguste noticed that Bertrand looked at him with a sly expression, and hovered about him as if he were seeking an opportunity to speak to him. "You want to tell me or ask me something, I see, Bertrand," said Auguste, stopping in front of the corporal. "Speak, for heaven's sake, instead of prowling about me in this way. You have no comprehension, my old friend, of the little wiles of the ladies, who, when they have anything to say to us, have the art to force us to question them." "True, lieutenant, you're right; it's better to go straight to the point without countermarching. You must have met a certain little man at the neighbor's, for I saw him come down just after you went up." "Well, yes, I did see a gentleman there; what of it?" "What of it! Is this the first time you've met him?" "Yes." "He goes there often, however." "Who told you that?" "Madame Schtrack, the concierge." "What, Bertrand! do you chatter and talk gossip with a concierge?" "Gossip! no, lieutenant; ten thousand cartridges! I! gossip! Do you call what I've just told you gossip, lieutenant?" "Why, pretty nearly. Is not Madame de Saint-Edmond at liberty to receive visits? Does she owe me an account of all her callers? What right have I to set spies on her acts? and if anyone should give her a faithful report of mine, do you think that she would have no reason to reproach me?" "True, lieutenant; I am in the wrong. I'll go on drinking with Schtrack, but I won't talk with his wife any more, because I don't want it said that an old moustache like me talks gossip." Although he had scolded Bertrand, Auguste remembered Madame Schtrack's statement; and, when he thought of the abuse Léonie had heaped upon the little man, he could not avoid conceiving some suspicions. We may agree that we do not deserve a faithful mistress, but we can never forgive her for her infidelity. "Léonie must be horribly false, horribly treacherous!" said Auguste to himself. "Why need she pretend to love me, unless she retains her hold on me for selfish reasons, or unless she loves two men at once? Such things have been known."