the lawyer.

"To adultery!--For thus, monsieur, a Buddhist as he smokes his pipe may
very well assert that the Christian religion is founded in adultery; as
we believe that Mahomet is an impostor; that his Koran is an epitome
of the Old Testament and the Gospels; and that God never had the least
intention of constituting that camel-driver His Prophet."

"If there were many men like you in France--and there are more than
enough, unfortunately--all government would be impossible."

"And there would be no religion at all," said Madame Piedefer, who had
been making strangely wry faces all through this discussion.

"You are paining them very much," said Bianchon to Lousteau in an
undertone. "Do not talk of religion; you are saying things that are
enough to upset them."

"If I were a writer or a romancer," said Monsieur Gravier, "I should
take the side of the luckless husbands. I, who have seen many things,
and strange things too, know that among the ranks of deceived husbands
there are some whose attitude is not devoid of energy, men who, at a
crisis, can be very dramatic, to use one of your words, monsieur," he
said, addressing Etienne.

"You are very right, my dear Monsieur Gravier," said Lousteau. "I never
thought that deceived husbands were ridiculous; on the contrary, I think
highly of them--"

"Do you not think a husband's confidence a sublime thing?" said
Bianchon. "He believes in his wife, he does not suspect her, he trusts
her implicitly. But if he is so weak as to trust her, you make game of
him; if he is jealous and suspicious, you hate him; what, then, I ask
you, is the happy medium for a man of spirit?"

"If Monsieur de Clagny had not just expressed such vehement disapproval
of the immorality of stories in which the matrimonial compact is
violated, I could tell you of a husband's revenge," said Lousteau.

Monsieur de Clagny threw the dice with a convulsive jerk, and dared not
look up at the journalist.

"A story, from you!" cried Madame de la Baudraye. "I should hardly have
dared to hope for such a treat--"

"It is not my story, madame; I am not clever enough to invent such a
tragedy. It was told me--and how delightfully!--by one of our greatest
writers, the finest literary musician of our day, Charles Nodier."

"Well, tell it," said Dinah. "I never met Monsieur Nodier, so you have
no comparison to fear."

"Not long after the 18th Brumaire," Etienne began, "there was, as
you know, a call to arms