to her, she had invented this story that she wanted five hundred francs.
How was it that Frederick did not ask for a little love from her in
return? This was a piece of refinement that filled her with amazement,
and, with a gush of emotion, she said to him:

"Will you come with us to the sea-baths?"

"What does 'us' mean?"

"Myself and my bird. I'll make you pass for a cousin of mine, as in the
old comedies."

"A thousand thanks!"

"Well, then, you will take lodgings near ours."

The idea of hiding himself from a rich man humiliated him.

"No! that is impossible."

"Just as you please!"

Rosanette turned away with tears in her eyes. Frederick noticed this,
and in order to testify the interest which he took in her, he said that
he was delighted to see her at last in a comfortable position.

She shrugged her shoulders. What, then, was troubling her? Was it,
perchance, that she was not loved.

"Oh! as for me, I have always people to love me!"

She added:

"It remains to be seen in what way."

Complaining that she was "suffocating with the heat," the Marechale
unfastened her vest; and, without any other garment round her body, save
her silk chemise, she leaned her head on his shoulder so as to awaken
his tenderness.

A man of less introspective egoism would not have bestowed a thought at
such a moment on the possibility of the Vicomte, M. de Comaing, or
anyone else appearing on the scene. But Frederick had been too many
times the dupe of these very glances to compromise himself by a fresh
humiliation.

She wished to know all about his relationships and his amusements. She
even enquired about his financial affairs, and offered to lend him money
if he wanted it. Frederick, unable to stand it any longer, took up his
hat.

"I'm off, my pet! I hope you'll enjoy yourself thoroughly down there.
_Au revoir!_"

She opened her eyes wide; then, in a dry tone:

"_Au revoir!_"

He made his way out through the yellow drawing-room, and through the
second anteroom. There was on the table, between a vase full of
visiting-cards and an inkstand, a chased silver chest. It was Madame
Arnoux's. Then he experienced a feeling of tenderness, and, at the same
time, as it were, the scandal of a profanation. He felt a longing to
raise his hands towards it, and to open it. He was afraid of being seen,
and went away.

Frederick was virtuous. He did not go back to the Arnouxs' house. He
sent his man-servant to buy the two