"You are very good."

"I am not making any efforts to be so," retorted Cayrol, smiling. "What
do I ask? That you may be happy and satisfied."

"Well, do you wish to please me?" asked the young wife.

"Yes!" exclaimed Cayrol, warmly, "tell me how."

"Madame Desvarennes will be very lonely tomorrow when her daughter will
be gone. She will need consoling--"

"Ah, ah," said Cayrol, thinking that he understood, "and you would
like--"

"I would like to remain some time with her. You could come every day and
see us. I would be very grateful to you, and would love you very much!"

"But--but--but--!" exclaimed Cayrol, much confounded, "you cannot mean
what you say, Jeanne! What, my dear? You wish me to return alone to
Paris to-night? What would my servants say? You would expose me to
ridicule!"

Poor Cayrol made a piteous face. Jeanne looked at him as she had never
looked before. It made his blood boil.

"Would you be so very ridiculous for having been delicate and tender?"

"I don't see what tenderness has to do with it," cried Cayrol; "on the
contrary! But I love you. You don't seem to think it!"