nds, I prepared for a desperate struggle.

The door was half opened, a hand appeared which kept it ajar; then a
head, a man's head covered with a billycock hat, slipped through the
folding-doors, and I saw two eyes staring hard at me. Then so quickly
that I had not time to make a single movement by way of defense, the
individual, the supposed criminal, a tall young fellow in his bare
feet with his shoes in his hands, a good looking chap, I must
admit--half a gentleman, in fact, made a dash for the outer door, and
rushed down the stairs.

I resumed my seat. The adventure was assuming a humorous aspect. And I
waited for the husband, who took a long time fetching the wine. At
last I heard him coming up the stairs, and the sound of his footsteps
made me laugh, with one of those solitary laughs which it is hard to
restrain.

He entered with two bottles in his hands. Then he asked me:

"Is my wife still asleep? You didn't hear her stirring--did you?"

I knew instinctively that there was an ear pasted against the other
side of the partition-door, and I said: "No, not at all."

And now he again called out:

"Pauline!"

She made no reply, and did not even move.

He came back to me, and explained:

"You see, she doesn't like me to come home at night, and take a drop
with a friend."

"So then you believe she was not asleep?"

He wore an air of dissatisfaction.

"Well, at any rate," he said, "let us have a drink together."

And immediately he showed a disposition to empty the two bottles one
after the other without more ado.

This time I did display some energy. When I had swallowed one glass I
rose up to leave. He no longer spoke of accompanying me, and with a
sullen scowl, the scowl of a common man in an angry mood, the scowl of
a brute whose violence is only slumbering, in the direction of his
wife's sleeping apartment, he muttered:

"She'll have to open that door when you've gone."

I stared at this poltroon, who had worked himself into a fit of rage
without knowing why, perhaps, owing to an obscure presentiment, the
instinct of the deceived male who does not like closed doors. He had
talked about her to me in a tender strain; now assuredly he was going
to beat her.

He exclaimed, as he shook the lock once more:

"Pauline!"

A voice like that of a woman waking out of her sleep, replied from
behind the partition:

"Eh! what?"

"Didn't you hear me coming in?"

"No, I was asleep! Let me rest."

"O