ground, and too inexperienced."

I smiled--perhaps somewhat bitterly--for the wound was still fresh, and
I could not help wincing when any hand came near it.

"You are right," I replied. "Madame de Marignan is a dangerous woman;
but dangerous for me no longer. However, I have paid rather dearly for
my safety."

And with this, I told him the whole story from beginning to end,
confessing all my follies without reservation. Surprised, amused,
sometimes unable to repress a smile, sometimes genuinely compassionate,
he heard my narrative through, accompanying it from time to time with
muttered comments and ejaculations, none of which were very flattering
to Madame de Marignan. When I had done, he sprang to his feet, laid his
hand heavily upon my shoulder, and said:--

"Damon, there are a great many disagreeable things in life which wise
people say are good for us, and for which they tell us we ought to be
grateful in proportion to our discomfort. For my own part, however, I am
no optimist. I am not fond of mortifying the flesh, and the eloquence of
Socrates would fail to persuade me that a carbuncle was a cheerful
companion, or the gout an ailment to be ardently desired. Yet, for all
this, I cannot say that I look upon your adventure in the light of a
misfortune. You have lost time, spent money, and endured a considerable
amount of aggravation; but you have, on the other hand, acquired ease
of manner, facility of conversation, and just that necessary polish
which fits a man for society. Come! you have received a valuable lesson
both in morals and manners; so farewell to Madame de Marignan, and let
us write _Pour acquit_ against the score!"