love him. Nothing to him was sweeter, nothing was easier, than to say of
the friend of his childhood all the good that he thought of him, and as
he saw that Bettina listened with great pleasure, Paul gave free rein to
his eloquence.

Only--and he was quite right--Paul wished one evening to reap the benefit
of his chivalrous conduct. He had just been talking for a quarter of an
hour with Bettina. The conversation finished, he went to look for Jean
at the other end of the drawing-room, and said to him:

"You left the field open to me, and I have made a bold stroke for Miss
Percival."

"Well, you have no reason to be discontented with the result of the
enterprise. You are the best friends in the world."

"Yes, certainly, pretty well, but not quite satisfactory. There is
nothing more amiable or more charming than Miss Percival, and really it
is very good of me to acknowledge it; for, between ourselves, she makes
me play an ungrateful and ridiculous role, a role which is quite unsuited
to my age. I am, you will admit, of the lover's age, and not of that of
the confidant."

"Of the confidant!"

"Yes, my dear fellow, of the confidant! That is my occupation in this
house. You were looking at us just now. Oh, I have very good eyes; you
were looking at us. Well, do you know what we were talking about? Of
you, my dear fellow, of you, of you again, of nothing but you. And it is
the same thing every evening; there is no end to the questions: