"Yes, tell it to us," cried all the guests.
The prudent old gentleman cast his eyes around, and, after having
formed his conclusions as to the age of the ladies, smiled and said:
"Since we are all experienced in life, I consent to relate the
adventure."
Dead silence followed, and the narrator read the following from a
little book which he had taken from his pocket:
I was head over ears in love with the Comtesse de -----. I was twenty
and I was ingenuous. She deceived me. I was angry; she threw me over.
I was ingenuous, I repeat, and I was grieved to lose her. I was
twenty; she forgave me. And as I was twenty, as I was always
ingenuous, always deceived, but never again thrown over by her, I
believed myself to have been the best beloved of lovers, consequently
the happiest of men. The countess had a friend, Madame de T-----, who
seemed to have some designs on me, but without compromising her
dignity; for she was scrupulous and respected the proprieties. One day
while I was waiting for the countess in her Opera box, I heard my name
called from a contiguous box. It was Madame de T-----.
"What," she said, "already here? Is this fidelity or merely a want of
something to do? Won't you come to me?"
Her voice and her manner had a meaning in them, but I was far from
inclined at that moment to indulge in a romance.
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