Madame Célival, who appeared to be not at all pleased that Monsieur Trichet had interposed in her conversation with Chérubin, answered the old bachelor:
“You always try to guess what people are saying, but in this case you are quite likely to be mistaken. Tell me, what was monsieur saying to me?”
“That you are bewitching, adorable; for no man can say anything else to you.”
Madame Célival smiled, with a less irritated air, while Chérubin, blushing to the whites of his eyes, exclaimed:
“At all events, you thought it,” rejoined Monsieur Trichet, “and that amounts to the same thing.”
Chérubin did not know what to say; he lowered his eyes and made such a comical face that Madame Célival, taking pity on his embarrassment, rose and said:
“Nonsense, my dear Trichet; you are an old idiot! That is why we all have to forgive you.”
The old bachelor did not hear these last words; he had run off to join a gentleman who was declaiming at the other end of the salon, and whom it gave him great pleasure to interrupt. Madame Célival left Chérubin, saying, with a glance at once amiable and affectionate:
“I trust, monsieur, that you find my house agreeable; you will prove that you do if you come to see me often.”
“Well,” said Monfréville, as he joined Chérubin once more, “your business seems to be progressing.”
“Ah! my dear fellow, that woman is delightful! In her company, it seemed to me that I actually had some wit. I have never been so well pleased with myself.”
“‘A great man’s friendship is a boon of the gods;’ but an agreeable woman’s love is the greatest blessing on earth! Come; you don’t play, nor I; it is time to go.”
They left the salon, which the Noirmont family had quitted just before.
It was nine o’clock at night, and two men, who seemed to be waiting and watching for somebody, were walking back and forth on Rue Grenétat. One of them, whose beat was from the centre of the street almost to the fountain at the corner of Rue Saint-Denis, wore a long frockcoat which fitted his figure perfectly and was buttoned to the chin, together with straw-colored gloves and the general outfit of a dandy; but when he passed a lighted shop, one could see that his coat was worn and spotted in many places, and that his gloves were no longer perfectly fresh. This gentleman was smoking a cigar with all the grace of a regular customer at Tortoni’s.