e man embarrassed by the consciousness
of his nullity, the woman tired of her dismal visitor. At the voice of
Prudence, Marguerite rose, and coming toward us with a look of gratitude
to Mme. Duvernoy, said:

"Come in, and welcome."

Chapter 9

"Good-evening, my dear Gaston," said Marguerite to my companion. "I am
very glad to see you. Why didn't you come to see me in my box at the
Varietes?"

"I was afraid it would be indiscreet."

"Friends," and Marguerite lingered over the word, as if to intimate to
those who were present that in spite of the familiar way in which she
greeted him, Gaston was not and never had been anything more than a
friend, "friends are always welcome."

"Then, will you permit me to introduce M. Armand Duval?"

"I had already authorized Prudence to do so."

"As far as that goes, madame," I said, bowing, and succeeding in getting
more or less intelligible sounds out of my throat, "I have already had
the honour of being introduced to you."

Marguerite's beautiful eyes seemed to be looking back in memory, but she
could not, or seemed not to, remember.

"Madame," I continued, "I am grateful to you for having forgotten the
occasion of my first introduction, for I was very absurd and must have
seemed to you very tiresome. It was at the Opera Comique, two years ago;
I was with Ernest de ----."

"Ah, I remember," said Marguerite, with a smile. "It was not you who
were absurd; it was I who was mischievous, as I still am, but somewhat
less. You have forgiven me?"

And she held out her hand, which I kissed.

"It is true," she went on; "you know I have the bad habit of trying
to embarrass people the first time I meet them. It is very stupid.
My doctor says it is because I am nervous and always ill; believe my
doctor."

"But you seem quite well."

"Oh! I have been very ill."

"I know."

"Who told you?"

"Every one knew it; I often came to inquire after you, and I was happy
to hear of your convalescence."

"They never gave me your card."

"I did not leave it."

"Was it you, then, who called every day while I was ill, and would never
leave your name?"

"Yes, it was I."

"Then you are more than indulgent, you are generous. You, count,
wouldn't have done that," said she, turning toward M. de N., after
giving me one of those looks in which women sum up their opinion of a
man.

"I have only known you for two months," replied the count.

"And this gentleman only for five minutes