The relations of the
husband to his affectionate, satiric, pleasure-seeking wife, who knew
so well all the eighteen theatres which then existed in Paris, are
treated with much quiet humour. On Sundays the four set forth
together for a country holiday. At such times Phlipote would walk
half-a-dozen paces in advance of her father and mother, side by side
with her intended. But they never talked to each other: the hands,
the eyes, never met. Of what was Phlipote dreaming? and what was in
the thoughts of Claude?
It happened one day that, like sister and brother, the lovers
exchanged confidences. "It [141] is not always," observes Phlipote,
whom every one excepting Claude on those occasions sought with
admiring eyes--
"'It is not always one loves those one is told to love.'
"'What, have you, too, a secret, my little Phlipote?'
"'I too, Claude! Then what may be yours?'
"'Listen, Phlipote!' he answered. 'We don't wish to be husband and
wife, but we can be friends--good and faithful friends, helping each
other to change the decision of our parents.'
"'Were I but sure you would not betray me--'
"'Would you like me to confess first? The woman I love--Ah! but you
will laugh at my folly!'
"'No, Claude! I shall not laugh.
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