Here was an opportunity for him to make me that long-delayed explanation; but Monsieur Dorlange seemed so little inclined to take advantage of it that, using Monsieur Armand's freak as a text, he read me a lecture on the danger of spoiling children: a subject which was not at all agreeable to me, as he must have perceived from the rather stiff manner with which I listened to him.Come, thought I, I must and will get to the bottom of this history; it is like the tale of Sancho's herdsman, which had the faculty of never getting told.So, cutting short my companion's theories of education, I said distinctly:--"This is a very good time, I think, to continue the confidence you were about to make to me.Here we are sure of no interruption.""I am afraid I shall prove a poor story-teller," replied Monsieur Dorlange."I have spent all my fire this very day in telling that tale to Marie-Gaston.""That," I answered laughing, "is against your own theory of secrecy, in which a third party is one too many.""Oh, Marie-Gaston and I count for one only.Besides, I had to reply to his odd ideas about you and me.""What about me?"

"Well, he imagined that in looking at the sun I should be dazzled by its rays.""Which means, speaking less metaphorically--?""That, in view of the singularities which accompanied my first knowledge of you and led me to the honor of your acquaintance, I might expose myself to the danger, madame, of not retaining my reason and self-possession.""And your history refutes this fear in the mind of Monsieur Marie-Gaston?"

"You shall judge."

And then, without further preamble, he told me a long tale which Ineed not repeat here; the gist of it is, however, that Monsieur Dorlange is in love with a woman who posed in his imagination for Saint-Ursula; but as this woman appears to be forever lost to him it did not seem to me impossible that in the long run he might transfer his sentiments for her memory to me.When he had finished his tale he asked if I did not think it a victorious answer to the ridiculous fears of our friend.

"Modesty," I replied, "obliges me to share your security; but they say that in the army shots frequently ricochet and kill their victims.""Then you think me capable of the impertinence Marie-Gaston is good enough to suspect in me?""I don't know about its being an impertinence," I said stiffly, "but if such a fancy came into your mind, I should think you very much to be pitied."His answer was vehement.

"Madame," he said, "you will not have to pity me.In my opinion, first love is a vaccination which protects us from a second."The conversation stopped there.We had now reached my own door, and Iinvited Monsieur Dorlange to come in.He accepted my politeness, remarking that Monsieur de l'Estorade had probably returned and he could thus take leave of him.

My husband was at home.I don't know whether Lucas, forestalling the rebuke I intended to give him, had made out a story to excuse himself, or whether Monsieur de l'Estorade for the first time in his life, felt, in view of my maternal escapade, a movement of jealousy.It is certain, however, that his manner of receiving me was curt; he called it an unheard-of thing to go out at such an hour, in such weather, to see a boy who proved, by announcing his own illness, that it was nothing serious.After letting him talk in this discourteous way for some little time, I thought it was time to put an end to the scene, so I said in a rather peremptory tone:--"As I wanted to sleep at night, I went to the school in a pelting rain; I came back by moonlight; and I beg you to remark that monsieur, who was so good as to escort me, has come upstairs to bid you good-bye, because he leaves Paris to-morrow morning."I have habitually enough power over Monsieur de l'Estorade to make this call to order effective; but I saw that my husband was displeased, and that instead of having made Monsieur Dorlange an easy diversion, I had called down upon his head the ill-humor of my ogre, who instantly turned upon him.