“Why do you not answer me? Do I not perceive that your heart is almost
bursting to vent some of its vexation? I insist on your speaking,
otherwise you will begin to fancy that you are keeping some terribly
momentous secret.”
“If I am gloomy, gracious sir,” replied I, “it is only because I do not
see you cheerful.”
“I know,” continued he, “that you have been dissatisfied with me for
some time past--that you disapprove of every step I take--that--what
does Count O------ say in his letters?”
“Count O------ has not written to me.”
“Not written? Why do you deny it? You keep up a confidential
correspondence together, you and the count; I am quite aware of that.
Come, you may confess it, for I have no wish to pry into your secrets.”
“Count O------,” replied I, “has not yet answered any of the three
letters which I have written to him.”
“I have done wrong,” continued he; “don’t you think so?” (taking up one
of the rouleaus) “I should not have done this?”
“I see that it was necessary.”
“I ought not to have reduced myself to such a necessity?”