Meanwhile, Chevalier was searching in his mind for some appropriate
fashion of asking a question which had been on the tip of his tongue
ever since he had set foot on the stairs. He wanted to know whether
Félicie was still meeting Girmandel, whose name he never heard mentioned
nowadays. We are given to conceiving desires which suit themselves to
our condition. Now, in the misery of his existence, in the distress of
his heart, he was full of an eager desire that Félicie, who loved him no
longer, should love Girmandel, whom she loved but little, and he hoped
with all his heart that Girmandel would keep her for him, would possess
her wholly, and leave nothing of her for Robert de Ligny. The idea that
the girl might be with Girmandel appeased his jealousy, and he dreaded
to learn that she had broken with him.

Of course he would never have allowed himself to question a mother as to
her daughter's lovers. But it was permissible to speak of Girmandel to
Madame Nanteuil, who saw nothing that was other than respectable in the
relations of her household with the Government official, who was
well-to-do, married, and the father of two charming daughters. To bring
Girmandel's name into the conversation he had only to resort to a
stratagem. Chevalier hit upon one which he thought was ingenious.

"By the way," he remarked, "I saw Girmandel just now in a carriage."

Madame Nanteuil made no comment.

"He was driving down the Boulevard Saint-Michel in a cab. I certainly
thought I recognized him. I should be greatly surprised if it wasn't
he."

Madame Nanteuil made no comment.