uld be very sorry to see her go. I gave
Zenobia twelve sequins for the trouble she had taken.
I was satisfied with everything and paid the worthy pastry-cook's bill. I
noticed we had emptied no less than twenty bottles of champagne, though
it is true that we drank very little of any other wine, as the ladies
preferred it.
I loved and was beloved, my health was good, I had plenty of money, which
I spent freely; in fine, I was happy. I loved to say so in defiance of
those sour moralists who pretend that there is no true happiness on this
earth. It is the expression on this earth which makes me laugh; as if it
were possible to go anywhere else in search of happiness. 'Mors ultima
linea rerum est'. Yes, death is the end of all, for after death man has
no senses; but I do not say that the soul shares the fate of the body. No
one should dogmatise on uncertainties, and after death everything is
doubtful.
It was seven o'clock when we began our journey home, which we reached at
midnight. The journey was so pleasant that it seemed to us but short. The
champagne, the punch, and the pleasure, had warmed my two fair
companions, and by favour of the darkness I was able to amuse myself with
them, though I loved Clementine too well to carry matters very far with
her sister.
When we alighted we wished each other good night, and everybody retired
to his or her room, myself excepted, for I spent several happy hours with
Clementine, which I can never forget.
"Do you think," said she, "that I shall be happy when you have left me
all alone?"
"Dearest Hebe, both of us will be unhappy for the first few days, but
then philosophy will step in and soften the bitterness of parting without
lessening our love."
"Soften the bitterness! I do not think any philosophy can work such a
miracle. I know that you, dear sophist, will soon console yourself with
other girls. Don't think me jealous; I should abhor myself if I thought I
was capable of so vile a passion, but I should despise myself if I was
capable of seeking consolation in your way."
"I shall be in despair if you entertain such ideas of me."
"They are natural, however."
"Possibly. What you call 'other girls' can never expel your image from my
breast. The chief of them is the wife of a tailor, and the other is a
respectable young woman, whom I am going to take back to Marseilles,
whence she has been decoyed by her wretched seducer.
"From henceforth to death, you and you al
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