He was not even invited; so you see how far they were from laying matchmaking plots, and how groundless were all your fears and reproaches!" Monsieur Delaroche! Could this be the Delaroche of my special aversion?
I pressed her hand again, more closely, more tenderly, and listened for what might come next.
"Well, it is all over now! And will you promise _never, never, never_ to be jealous again?
Then, to be jealous of such a creature as that ridiculous Delaroche--a man who knows nothing--who can think and talk only of his own absurd self!--a man who has not even wit enough to see that every one laughs at him!" I was delighted.

I longed to embrace her on the spot! Was there ever such a charming, sensible, lively creature?
"Besides, the coxcomb is just now devoting himself, body and soul (such as they are!) to that insufferable little _intriguante_, Madame de Marignan.

He is to be seen with her in every drawing-room and theatre throughout Paris.

For my part, I am amazed that a woman of the world should suffer herself to be compromised to that extent--especially one so experienced in these _affaires du coeur_." Madame de Marignan! Compromised--experienced--_intriguante_! I felt as if I were choking.
"To be sure, there is that poor English lad whom she drags about with her, to play propriety," continued she; "but do you suppose the world is blinded by so shallow an artifice ?" "What English lad ?" I asked, startled out of all sense of precaution, and desperately resolved to know the worst.
"What English lad?
Why, Hippolyte, you are more stupid than ever! I pointed him out to you the other night at the Comedie Francaise--a pale, handsome boy, of about nineteen or twenty, with brown curling hair, and very fine eyes, which were riveted on Madame de Marignan the whole evening.

Poor fellow! I cannot help pitying him." "Then--then, you think she really does not love him ?" I said.