He burned the paper at a candle.
"I am imprudent," he said to himself. "Poor Adrienne! I should not like
to cause her any distress."
She was overjoyed as she made the journey in the ministerial carriage
from Place Beauvau to the Gersons' mansion. At last she had a rapid,
stolen moment in which she could recover the old-time joy of happy
solitude, full of the exquisite agitation of former days.
"Do you recall the time when you took me away like this, on the evening
of our marriage?" she whispered to him, as the carriage was driven off
at a gallop.
He took her hands and pressed them.
"You still love me, don't you, Sulpice?--You believe too, that I love
you more than all the world?"
"Yes, I believe it!"
"You would kill me if I deceived you?--I, ah, if you deceived me, I do
not know what I should do.--Although I think that you are here, that I
hold you, that I love you, you may still belong to another woman--"
"Again! you have already said that. Are you mad?" said Sulpice. "See! we
have reached our destination."
Madame Gerson had brilliantly illuminated her house in Rue de Boulogne
with lights, filled it with flowers, and spread carpets everywhere to
receive the President of the Council. The house was too small to
accommodate the guests, who were about to be stifled therein. She packed
them into her dining-room. For the soirée which was to follow, she had
sounded the roll-call of her friends. She was bent on founding a new
salon, on showing Madame Marsy that she was not alone to be the rival of
Madame Evan.
Madame Gerson was not on friendly terms with Sabine Marsy. People were
ignorant as to the cause. Adrienne, who was not familiar with the
history of such little broils, was very much surprised to learn of this
fact.
"She claims that we take away all her _personnel_," said Madame Gerson.
"It is not my fault if people enjoy themselves at our house. I hope that
you will find pleasure here, Monsieur le Président."