Nature does not leap from May to
December. The year culminates in the warm breath of summer. Youth
culminates in the sunshine of love. The year bereft of summer is less
mournful than youth deprived of love. So. A young girl, married to a
man old enough to be her grandsire, misses the glory of her summer, the
realization of her convent dreams. Gradually she comprehends that she
has been cheated, cruelly cheated. What happens? She begins by
comparing her husband who is old to the gallants who are young. This
is but natural."
"And exciting," interpolated the Chevalier.
"By and by, the world as contrived by man shows her many loopholes
through which she may pass without disturbing her conscience. Ah, but
these steps are so imperceptible that one does not perceive how far one
goes till one looks back to find the way closed. Behold the irony of
fate! During the second year Monsieur le Comte falls in love with one
of Scudery's actresses, and, commits all sorts of follies for her sake.
Ah well, there were gallants enough. And one found favor in madame's
eyes; at least, so it seemed to him. In the summer months they
promenaded the gardens of La Place Royale, on the Cours de la Reine,
always at dusk.
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