They stopped talking, their eyes fastened on the distant horizon, then
the one called Marguerite murmured: "Life without that seems to me
unbearable. I need to be loved, if only by a dog. But we are all alike,
no matter what you may say, Simone."

"Not at all, my dear. I had rather not be loved at all than to be loved
by the first comer. Do you think, for instance, that it would be pleasant
to be loved by--by--"

She was thinking by whom she might possibly be loved, glancing across the
wide landscape. Her eyes, after traveling around the horizon, fell on the
two bright buttons which were shining on the back of the coachman's
livery, and she continued, laughing: "by my coachman?"

Madame Margot barely smiled, and said in a low tone of voice:

"I assure you that it is very amusing to be loved by a servant. It has
happened to me two or three times. They roll their eyes in such a funny
manner--it's enough to make you die laughing! Naturally, the more in
love they are, the more severe one must be with them, and then, some day,
for some reason, you dismiss them, because, if anyone should notice it,
you would appear so ridiculous."

Madame Simone was listening, staring straight ahead of her, then she
remarked:

"No, I'm afraid that my footman's heart would not satisfy me. Tell me how
you noticed that they loved you."