“Let me know something of your doings, since you were last here,” said the Countess to him.
“First tell me, dear Countess,” replied Thibault, “when I last was here.”
“Do you mean you have forgotten? One does not generally acknowledge things of that kind, unless seeking for a cause of quarrel.”
“On the contrary, dear friend, it is because the recollection of that last visit is so present with me, that I think it must have been only yesterday we were together, and I try in vain to recall what I have done, and I assure you I have committed no other crime since yesterday but that of loving you.”
“That’s not a bad speech; but you will not get yourself out of disgrace by paying compliments.”
“Dear Countess,” said Thibault, “supposing we put off explanations to another time.”
“No, you must answer me now; it is five days since I last saw you; what have you been doing all that time?”
“I am waiting for you to tell me, Countess. How can you expect me, conscious as I am of my innocence, to accuse myself?”
“Very well then! I will not begin by saying anything about your loitering in the corridors.”
“Oh, pray, let us speak of it! how can you think, Countess, that knowing you, the diamond of diamonds, was waiting for me, I should stop to pick up an imitation pearl?”