"But, my dear Monsieur Arthur, now that I am waiting for the return of the bride, to whom I shall say adieu forever, if your affairs call you elsewhere, do not hesitate to go. Leave me; I have abused your good-nature too far already."
"I, leave you! No, indeed! What do you take me for?--What! after accepting your suggestion that we should dine together, leave you all of a sudden at dessert? Fie! Only a cad would do that; and, thank God! I know what good-breeding is. Tell me, do I annoy you? Is my presence distasteful to you?"
"Ah! far from it, my dear sir; you have shown an interest in my affairs, which I shall never forget."
"We were born to be friends, and we are; that is settled, your affairs are mine, what concerns you concerns me. Wherever there is danger for you, it is my duty to look after you; and, you understand, if, while you are talking with the bride, her new husband should happen to come prowling about here, I will just step in front of him and say: 'I am very sorry, my boy, but you can't pass!'"
"Oh! a thousand thanks for your devotion to me! Waiter! waiter! our bill!"
"You pay for the dinner; that's all right; but as we are to stay here some little time perhaps, we must have something to keep us busy."
"Waiter, make us a nice little rum punch; it's excellent for the digestion; the English eat a great deal, but they drink punch at dessert, and they're all right. Would you like to play cards, to kill time?"
"Thanks, it would be impossible for me to put my mind on the game."
"I don't insist. I am rather fond of cards, but I don't carry that passion to excess. Pardieu! I don't say that I may not take a hand by and by at the Blanquette function. Did I tell you that I knew them? They're linen-drapers; that sort of people play rather high; but that doesn't frighten me. Ah! here's our punch! I divine it by the odor; the table is excellent at this house."
Cherami lost no time in partaking of the punch. Gustave refused it at first, but finally consented to take a glass.
The night had come; the lights were lighted on all sides. With the darkness, the unhappy lover's thoughts became more gloomy, his suffering more intense; he buried his face in his hands, muttering:
"It's all over! O Fanny! Fanny! you will belong to another! Ah! I shall die of my grief!"