Jardin des Plantes. In fact, I thought you were one of Sabine Marsy's friends. Did I dream so?"
"I have occasionally met her, and have found her very agreeable. She invited me to call on her, but I have not dared—my hunger for solitude—my den yonder—"
"Is the little room forbidden ground, is one absolutely prohibited from seeing it?" said Guy with a smile.
"It is not forbidden, but it is difficult. Moreover, I have nothing hidden from my friends," said Marianne, "on one condition, which is, that they are my friends—"
She emphasized the words: "Nothing but my friends."
"Friendship," said Guy, "is all very well, it is very good, very agreeable, but—"
"But—?"
"Love—"
"Do not mention that to me! That takes wings, b-r-r! Like swallows. It flits. It leaves for Italy. But friendship—"
She extended her small firm hand as rigid as steel.
"When you desire to visit me over there, I shall be at home. I will give you the address. But it is not Guy who will come, but Monsieur de Lissac, remember. Is that understood?"
"I should be very silly if I answered yes."
Marianne shrugged her shoulders.
"Compliments! How foolish you are! Keep that sort of talk for others. It is a long time since they were addressed to me."
She took that man's face between her hands and kissed his cheeks in a frank, friendly way. Guy became somewhat pale.
"I have loved you, and truly, that is enough. Do not complain or ask aught besides."
Ah! what an eager desire now prompted him to possess her again, to find in her his mistress once more, to restrain her from leaving until she had become his, as of old.
She had already thrown her cloak over her shoulders, and said, as she gently pushed open the door:
"So it is agreed? I am to go to Madame Marsy's?"
"To Madame Marsy's. I will have an invitation sent you."
"And I will call for you and take you. Yes, I, here, like a jolly companion. Or I'll go with my uncle. You will present me to Rosas. We shall see if he recognizes me."
She burst out laughing. "You will also introduce me—since that is your occupation—" and here her smile disclosed her pretty, almost mischievous-looking teeth—"to Monsieur Vaudrey, your comrade. A minister! Such people are always useful for something. Addio, caro!"
Guy de Lissac had hardly taken two steps toward Marianne before she had vanished behind the heavy folds of the Japanese portière that fell in its place behind her. He opened the door. Mademoiselle Kayser was already in the hall, with her hand on the handle of the door.
"At nine o'clock I shall be with you," she said to Lissac as she disappeared.
She waved a salutation, the valet de chambre hastened to open the door, and her outline, that for a moment stood out in the light of the staircase, vanished. Guy was almost angry, and returned to his room.
Now that she had left, he opened his window quickly. It seemed to him that a little blue smoke escaped from the room, the cloud emitted by Marianne's cigarette. And with this bluish vapor also disappeared the odor of new-mown hay, bearing with it the passing intoxication that for a moment threatened to ensnare this disabused man.
The cold outside air, the bright sunshine, entered in quivering rays. Without, the snow-covered roofs stood out clearly against a soft blue sky, limpid and springlike. Light wreaths of smoke floated upward in the bracing atmosphere.
Guy freely inhaled this buoyant atmosphere that chased away the blended odor of tobacco and that exhaled from the woman. It seemed to him that a sort of band had been torn from his brow which, but a moment ago, felt compressed. The fresh breeze bore away all trace of Marianne's kisses.
"Must I always be a child?" he thought. "It is not on my account that she came here, but on Rosas's. Our friends' friends are our lovers. Egad! on my word, I was almost taken in again, nevertheless! Compelled, in order to cut adrift again, to make another journey to Italy—at my age."
Then, feeling chilly, he closed the window, laughing as he did so.
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