ease."

I replied somewhat sadly that I did not feel myself at liberty to break
my word, but that she could make me do even that if she chose.

Thereupon the marchioness, her husband, the abbe, and the Florentine,
urged her to use her power to make me break my supposed word, and
Armelline actually began to presume to do so.

I was bursting with rage; but making up my mind to do anything rather
than appear jealous, I said simply that I would gladly consent if her
friend would consent also.

"Very well," said she, with a pleased air that cut me to the quick, "go
and ask her."

That was enough for me. I went to Scholastica and told her the
circumstances in the presence of her lover, begging her to refuse without
compromising me.

Her lover said I was perfectly right, but Scholastica required no
persuasion, telling me that she had quite made up her mind not to sup
with anyone.

She came with me, and I told her to speak to Armelline apart before
saying anything to the others.

I led Scholastica before the marchioness, bewailing my want of success.

Scholastica told Armelline that she wanted to say a few words to her
aside, and after a short conversation they came back looking sorry, and
Armelline told the marchioness that she found it would be impossible for
them to come. The lady did not press us any longer, so we went away.

I told Scholastica's intended to keep what had passed to himself, and
asked him to dine with me on the day after Ash Wednesday.

The night was dark, and we walked to the place where I had ordered the
carriage to be in waiting.

To me it was as if I had come out of hell, and on the way to the inn I
did not speak a word, not even answering the questions which the
too-simple Armelline addressed to me in a voice that would have softened
a heart of stone. Scholastica avenged me by reproaching her for having
obliged me to appear either rude or jealous, or a breaker of my word.

When we got to the inn Armelline changed my jealous rage into pity; her
eyes swam with tears, which Scholastica's home truths had drawn forth.

The supper was ready, so they had no time to change their dress. I was
sad enough, but I could not bear to see Armelline sad also. I resolved to
do my best to drive away her melancholy, even though I suspected that it
arose from love of the Florentine.

The supper was excellent, and Scholastica did honour to it, while
Armelline, contrary to her wont, scarcely touched a thing.