"
"I could make you very comfortable, Desire, and I, too, am lonely.
Besides, your accounts are very confused, and I could save you much
money in that way."
A shrewd woman, this, but greatly mistaken in her methods. A useless,
lazy, coquettish woman would have married the man years before, but poor
Bathilde's very frankness was her undoing.
"Yes, yes," he returned impatiently, "I know all that, and my affection
for you is great. But as to marriage--I cannot yet make up my mind. And
in the meantime I must leave you, dear friend, for it is late. A
thousand thanks for the delicious breakfast----" and he was gone.
CHAPTER TWO
The tragedy of M. Bouillard's indecision was very real to Madame
Chalumeau, but it was also one to which the good woman was thoroughly
accustomed. For over three years M. Bouillard had twice yearly, on the
fifth of March and the fifth of September, tried to bring himself to
make up his mind, but he had always failed, and after his attempts
things had continued as before.
Every morning he breakfasted with her, every Sunday and Feast-day he
accompanied her to Mass, and occasionally he took her to drink a glass
of Hydromel at the Cafe du Musee.
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