I remain like an animal sitting
all day on a chair thinking of you."

He looked at her with astonishment. She was no longer the big frolicsome
tomboy he had known, but a bewildered despairing woman, capable of
anything. A vague project, however, arose in his mind. He replied: "My
dear, love is not eternal. We take and we leave one another. But when it
drags on, as between us two, it becomes a terrible drag. I will have no
more of it. That is the truth. However, if you can be reasonable, and
receive and treat me as a friend, I will come as I used to. Do you feel
capable of that?"

She placed her two bare arms on George's coat, and murmured: "I am
capable of anything in order to see you."

"Then it is agreed on," said he; "we are friends, and nothing more."

She stammered: "It is agreed on;" and then, holding out her lips to him:
"One more kiss; the last."

He refused gently, saying: "No, we must keep to our agreement."

She turned aside, wiping away a couple of tears, and then, drawing from
her bosom a bundle of papers tied with pink silk ribbon, offered it to
Du Roy, saying: "Here; it is your share of the profit in the Morocco
affair. I was so pleased to have gained it for you. Here, take it."

He wanted to refuse, observing: "No, I will not take that money."

Then she grew indignant. "Ah! so you won't take it now. It is yours,
yours, only. If you do not take it, I will throw it into the gutter. You
won't act like that, George?"

He received the little bundle, and slipped it into his pocket.

"We must go in," said he, "you will catch cold."

She murmured: "So much the better, if I could die."

She took one of his hands, kissed it passionately, with rage and
despair, and fled towards the mansion. He returned, quietly reflecting.
Then he re-entered the conservatory with haughty forehead and smiling
lip. His wife and Laroche-Mathieu were no longer there. The crowd was
thinning. It was becoming evident that they would not stay for the
dance. He perceived Susan arm-in-arm with her sister. They both came
towards him to ask him to dance the first quadrille with the Count de
Latour Yvelin.

He was astonished, and asked: "Who is he, too?"

Susan answered maliciously: "A new friend of my sister's." Rose blushed,
and murmured: "You are very spiteful, Susan; he is no more my friend
than yours."

Susan smiled, saying: "Oh! I know all about it."

Rose annoyed, turned her back on them and went away. Du Roy familiarl