The marquise made him sit in
front of her. She wanted to question him.
"Madame Felix de Vandenesse is fascinating in that gown," she said,
complimenting the dress as if it were a book he had published the day
before.
"Yes," said Raoul, indifferently, "marabouts are very becoming to her;
but she seems wedded to them; she wore them on Saturday," he added, in
a careless tone, as if to repudiate the intimacy Madame d'Espard was
fastening upon him.
"You know the proverb," she replied. "There is no good fete without a
morrow."
In the matter of repartees literary celebrities are often not as quick
as women. Raoul pretended dulness, a last resort for clever men.
"That proverb is true in my case," he said, looking gallantly at the
marquise.
"My dear friend, your speech comes too late; I can't accept it," she
said, laughing. "Don't be so prudish! Come, I know how it was; you
complimented Madame de Vandenesse at the ball on her marabouts and she
has put them on again for your sake. She likes you, and you adore her;
it may be a little rapid, but it is all very natural. If I were
mistaken you wouldn't be twisting your gloves like a man who is
furious at having to sit here with me instead of flying to the box of
his idol. She has obtained," continued Madame d'Espard, glancing at
his person impertinently, "certain sacrifices which you refused to
make to society.
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