In the course of an hour's tete-a-tete, on a corner sofa,
under the eyes of the world, the Duchess brought young
d'Esgrignon as far as Scipio's Generosity, the Devotion of
Amadis, and Chivalrous Self-abnegation (for the Middle
Ages were just coming into fashion, with their daggers,
machicolations, hauberks, chain-mail, peaked shoes, and
romantic painted card-board properties). She had an ad-
mirable turn, moreover, for leaving things unsaid, for leaving
ideas in a discreet, seeming careless way, to work their way
down, one by one, into Victurnien's heart, like needles into a
cushion. She possessed a marvelous skill in reticence; she
was charming in hypocrisy, lavish of subtle promises, which
revived hope and then melted away like ice in the sun if you
looked at them closely, and most treacherous in the desire
which she felt and inspired. At the close of this charming
encounter she produced the running noose of an invitation
to call, and flung it over him with a dainty demureness which
the printed page can never set forth.
"You will forget me," she said. "You will find so many
women eager to pay court to you instead of enlightening
you. . . . But you will come back to me undeceived.
