she-ghoul
had become a dictatorial spouse, eager for respect, and consumed with
ambition and love of money. She showed, too, every form of sourish
virtue. It was said that they had been seen taking the Holy Communion
together at Notre Dame de Lorette. They kissed one another before
other people, and called each other by endearing nicknames. Only, of an
evening, he had to relate how he had spent his time during the day, and
if the employment of a single hour remained suspicious, if he did not
bring home all the money he had received, down to the odd coppers, she
led him the most abominable life imaginable.

This, of course, Jory left unmentioned. By way of conclusion he
exclaimed: 'And so we waited for my father's death, and then I married
her.'

Claude, whose mind had so far been wandering, and who had merely nodded
without listening, was struck by that last sentence.

'What! you married her--married Mathilde?'

That exclamation summed up all the astonishment that the affair caused
him, all the recollections that occurred to him of Mahoudeau's shop.
That Jory, why, he could still hear him talking about Mathilde in an
abominable manner; and yet he had married her! It was really stupid for
a fellow to speak badly of a woman, for he never knew if he might not
end by marrying her some day or other!

However, Jory was perfectly serene, his memory was dead, he never
allowed himself an allusion to the past, never showed the slightest
embarrassment when his comrades' eyes were turned on him. Besides,
Mathilde seemed to be a new-comer. He introduced her to them as if they
knew nothing whatever about her.

Sandoz, who had lent an ear to the conversation, greatly interested by
this fine business, called out as soon as Jory and Claude became silent:

'Let's be off, eh? My legs are getting numbed.'

But at that moment Irma Becot appeared, and stopped in front of the
buffet. With her hair freshly gilded, she had put on her best looks--all
the tricky sheen of a tawny hussy, who seemed to have just stepped
out of some old Renaissance frame; and she wore a train of light blue
brocaded silk, with a satin skirt covered with Alencon lace, of such
richness that quite an escort of gentlemen followed her in admiration.
On perceiving Claude among the others, she hesitated for a moment,
seized, as it were, with cowardly shame in front of that ill-clad, ugly,
derided devil. Then, becoming valiant, as it were, it was his hand that
she s