Honore de Balzac: Cousin Betty

1. PART I: THE PRODIGAL FATHER (continued)

"The word is too feeble," said he, placing his right hand on his heart, and rolling his eyes in a way which almost always makes a woman laugh when she, in cold blood, sees such a look. "A lover! A lover? Say a man bewitched----"

"Listen, Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness, too anxious to be able to laugh, "you are fifty--ten years younger than Monsieur Hulot, I know; but at my age a woman's follies ought to be justified by beauty, youth, fame, superior merit--some one of the splendid qualities which can dazzle us to the point of making us forget all else--even at our age. Though you may have fifty thousand francs a year, your age counterbalances your fortune; thus you have nothing whatever of what a woman looks for----"

"But love!" said the officer, rising and coming forward. "Such love as----"

"No, monsieur, such obstinacy!" said the Baroness, interrupting him to put an end to his absurdity.

"Yes, obstinacy," said he, "and love; but something stronger still--a claim----"

"A claim!" cried Madame Hulot, rising sublime with scorn, defiance, and indignation. "But," she went on, "this will bring us to no issues; I did not ask you to come here to discuss the matter which led to your banishment in spite of the connection between our families----"

"I had fancied so."

"What! still?" cried she. "Do you not see, monsieur, by the entire ease and freedom with which I can speak of lovers and love, of everything least creditable to a woman, that I am perfectly secure in my own virtue? I fear nothing--not even to shut myself in alone with you. Is that the conduct of a weak woman? You know full well why I begged you to come."

"No, madame," replied Crevel, with an assumption of great coldness. He pursed up his lips, and again struck an attitude.

"Well, I will be brief, to shorten our common discomfort," said the Baroness, looking at Crevel.