Then she seated herself in the chair. He sat down facing her and, crumbling a soft roll, went on:
“It was almost ridiculous … for me.”
She asked:
“Is this a scene? Do you intend to reproach me?”
“No, my dear, I am only saying that this Monsieur Burel has been dancing attendance on you in a rather unnecessary way. If … if … if I had any rights in the matter, I should be angry.”
“My dear, be honest. It is merely that you do not feel today as you felt last year. When I discovered that you had a mistress, a mistress of whom you were very fond, you did not trouble yourself whether anyone paid homage to me or not. I told you how grieved I was; I said, as you have said this evening, but with more justice on my side: ‘My friend, you are compromising Madame de Servy, you are hurting me and you are making me ridiculous.’ What did you reply? Oh, you gave me quite clearly to understand that I was free, that between intelligent people marriage was only an association of common interests, a social tie, but not a moral tie. Isn’t that so? You gave me to understand that your mistress was infinitely better than I, more seductive, more a woman. That is what you said: more a woman. This was all hedged about, of course, with the tact of a well-bred man, wrapped up in compliments, conveyed with a delicacy to which I offer my profound respect. It was not any the less perfectly clear to me.
“We agreed that thenceforward we would live together, but quite separated. We had a child who formed a link between us.
“You almost allowed me to suppose that you cared only for appearances, that I could, if I pleased, take a lover, so long as the liaison remained a secret one. You held forth at great length and quite admirably on woman’s subtle tact, on the ease with which they steered their way through the decencies of society.
“I understood, my friend, I understood perfectly. In those days you loved Madame de Servy so very passionately, and my legitimate affection, my legal tenderness, bored you. I relieved you, no doubt, of a share of your means. Since then we have lived separate lives. We go about together, we return together, and then we go each our own way.
“And now, for the past month or two, you have assumed the airs of a jealous man. What does it all mean?”
“My dear, I am not at all jealous, but I am afraid of seeing you compromise yourself. You are young, gay, adventurous. …”
“Pardon me, but if we are talking of adventures, I insist upon a balance being struck between us.”
“Come now, don’t joke about it, I beg you. I am speaking to you as a friend, your true friend. As for all that you have just been saying, it is very exaggerated.”
“Not at all. You confessed, you confessed your liaison to me, which is equivalent to giving me leave to go and do likewise. I have not done it. …”
“Allow me!”
“Please let me speak. I have not done it. I have no lover, and I have not had one … yet. I wait … I look … I find no one. I must have someone really splendid, finer than you. … I am paying you a compliment, and you do not seem to appreciate it.”
“My dear, all these witticisms are quite out of place.”
“But I am not attempting to be witty at all. You talked to me about the eighteenth century. You gave me to understand that you had the morals of the Regency. I have forgotten nothing. On the day when it suits me to cease being what I am, whatever you do will be quite useless, you understand, you will be a cuckold like the others, and you won’t even be in any doubt about it.”
“Oh … how can you take such words on your lips?”
“Such words! … But you laughed madly when Madame de Gers swore that Monsieur de Servy had the air of a cuckold in search of his horns.”
“What may seem witty in the mouth of Madame de Gers becomes unseemly in yours.”
“Not at all. But you find the word ‘cuckold’ very amusing when it is applied to Monsieur de Servy, and you consider that it has an ugly sound when it is applied to yourself. Everything depends on the point of view. Besides, I don’t insist upon the word, I only threw it out to see if you were ripe.”
“Ripe … for what?”
“To be it, of course. When a man is annoyed at hearing that word spoken, it means that he … is asking for it. In two months’ time you will be the first to laugh if I speak of a … headdress. Then … yes … when one actually is it, one doesn’t feel it.”
“You are behaving in the worst possible taste this evening. I have not seen you like this.”
“Ah, well, you see … I have changed … for the worse. It is your fault.”
“Come, my dear, let us talk seriously. I beg you, I implore you not to permit Monsieur Burel’s unpleasant assiduity, as you did this evening.”
“You are jealous. I was quite right.”
“No: not at all. I am only anxious not to look ridiculous. I don’t want to look ridiculous. And if I see that gentleman making further conversation against your … shoulders, or rather between your breasts …”
He was looking for a channel to make his words carry.
“I … I shall box his ears.”
“Are you by any chance in love with me?”
“A man might be in love with far less attractive women.”
“Stop where you are, please. To tell the truth, I’m no longer in love with you.”
The Comte stands up. He makes his way round the little table and, walking behind his wife, presses a kiss on the nape of her neck. She jumps to her feet with a movement of repulsion, and giving him a penetrating glance:
“No more of these pleasantries between us, please. We live apart. It’s all over.”
“Come
