"Ho, ho! I shall unloose Varin in pursuit of this nymph."
"Unnecessary; he knows her."
"Ah, he knows her?"
M. Hervart got up. He was afraid that some unforeseen question might make him say something silly. Suppose Bouret, who was a friend of Des Boys, guessed something? He tried to think of an ambiguous phrase and found one:
"I spent a day at the Des Boys' with Varin. I don't know if he's a familiar of the house."
And with that he went away.
"What a bad business!" he said to himself as he thought of his health, for the rest was of secondary importance to him now. "No more women! No more Gratienne! No libidinous thoughts! Am I master of my thoughts? Why not a course of pious reading?"
He spent several black days, then gave orders, in one of the galleries of his museum, for one of those untimely upheavals which drive the amateur wild. M. Hervart needed to distract himself. After a week, Gratienne, grown anxious, sent him an express letter. He yielded to the suggestion and that evening
