"But he only began to laugh, my dear, and replied: 'Good morning, my
dear, I know all about your little story, you may be sure. You are
married, and so you want forty francs instead of twenty, and you shall
have them, so just show the way.'

"And he pushed me in, closed the door, and as I remained standing
before him, horror-struck, he kissed me, put his arm round my waist and
made me go back into the drawing-room, which had remained open. Then he
began to look at everything, like an auctioneer, and continued: 'By
Jove, it is very nice in your rooms, very well. You must be very down on
your luck just now, to do the window business!'

"Then I began to beg him again: 'Oh! Monsieur, go away, please go away!
My husband will be coming in soon, it is just his time. I swear that you
have made a mistake!' But he answered quite coolly: 'Come, my beauty, I
have had enough of this nonsense, and if your husband comes in, I will
give him five francs to go and have a drink at the cafe opposite.' And
then, seeing Raoul's photograph on the chimney-piece, he asked me: 'Is
that your ... your husband?' 'Yes, that is he.' 'He looks a nice,
disagreeable sort of fellow. And who is this? One of your friends?'

"It was your photograph, my dear, you know, the one in ball dress. I did
not know any longer what I was saying, and I stammered: 'Yes, it is one
of my friends.' 'She is very nice; you shall introduce me to her.'

"Just then the clock struck five, and Raoul comes home every day at half
past! Suppose he were to come home before the other had gone, just fancy
what would have happened! Then ... then ... I completely lost my head
... altogether.... I thought ... I thought ... that ... that ... the
best thing would be ... to get rid ... of ... of this man ... as quickly
as possible.... The sooner it was over ... you understand ... and ...
and there ... as it must be done ... and I was obliged, my dear ... he
would not have gone away without it.... Well I ... I locked the
drawing-room door.... There!"

* * * * *

The little Marchioness de Rennedon had begun to laugh, to laugh madly,
with her head buried in her pillow, so that the whole bed shook, and
when she was a little calmer she asked: "And ... and ... was he
good-looking?" "Yes." "And yet you complain?" "But ... but ... don't you
see, my dear, he said ... he said ... he should come again to-morrow ...
at the same time ... and I ... I am terribly frighte