“That’s not a bad speech; but you will not get yourself out of disgrace by paying compliments.” “Dear Countess,” said Thibault, “supposing we put off explanations to another time.” “No, you must answer me now; it is five days since I last saw you; what have you been doing all that time?” “I am waiting for you to tell me, Countess. How can you expect me, conscious as I am of my innocence, to accuse myself?” “Very well then! I will not begin by saying anything about your loitering in the corridors.” “Oh, pray, let us speak of it! how can you think, Countess, that knowing you, the diamond of diamonds, was waiting for me, I should stop to pick up an imitation pearl?” “Ah! but I know how fickle men are, and Lisette is such a pretty girl!” “Not so, dear Jane, but you must understand that she being our confidante, and knowing all our secrets, I cannot treat her quite like a servant.” “How agreeable it must be to be able to say to one’s-self ‘I am deceiving the Comtesse de Mont-Gobert and I am the rival of Monsieur Cramoisi!’” “Very well then, there shall be no more loiterings in the corridors, no more kisses for poor Lisette, supposing of course there ever have been any!” “Well, after all, there is no great harm in that.” “Do you mean that I have done something even worse?” “Where had you been the other night, when you were met on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets?” “Someone met me on the road?” “Yes, on the Erneville Road; where were you coming from?” “I was coming home from fishing.” “Fishing! what fishing?” “They had been drawing the Berval ponds.” “Oh! we know all about that; you are such a fine fisher, are you not, Monsieur? And what sort of an eel were you bringing back in your net, returning from your fishing at two o’clock in the morning!” “I had been dining with my friend, the Baron, at Vez.” “At Vez? ha! I fancy you went there mainly to console the beautiful recluse, whom the jealous Baron keeps shut up there a regular prisoner, so they say. But even that I can forgive you.” “What, is there a blacker crime still,” said Thibault, who was beginning to feel quite reassured, seeing how quickly the pardon followed on the accusation; however serious it appeared at first. “Yes, at the ball given by his Highness the Duke of Orleans.” “What ball?” “Why, the one yesterday! it’s not so very along ago, is it?” “Oh, yesterday’s ball? I was admiring you.” “Indeed; but I was not there.” “Is it necessary for you to be present, Jane, for me to admire you; cannot one admire you in remembrance as truly as in person? and if, when absent, you triumph by comparison, the victory is only so much the greater.” “I daresay, and it was in order to carry out the comparison to its utmost limits that you danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil; they are very pretty, are they not, those dark women who cover themselves with rouge, and have eyebrows like the Chinese mannikins on my screens and moustaches like a grenadier.”