like to have company at home; I am not so situated
that I can have any. I know nothing about housekeeping or cooking. I
prefer a life free from care; therefore I invite them to the cafe
occasionally; but it is not lively when we are only three. I am telling
you this in order to explain such an informal gathering. I should like
you to be present at our Saturdays at the Cafe Riche at seven-thirty.
Do you know the house?"

Duroy accepted gladly. He left her in a transport of delight and
impatiently awaited the day of the dinner. He was the first to arrive
at the place appointed and was shown into a small private room, in
which the table was laid for four; that table looked very inviting with
its colored glasses, silver, and candelabra.

Duroy seated himself upon a low bench. Forestier entered and shook
hands with him with a cordiality he never evinced at the office.

"The two ladies will come together," said he. "These dinners are truly
delightful."

Very soon the door opened and Mesdames Forestier and De Marelle
appeared, heavily veiled, surrounded by the charming mystery necessary
to a rendezvous in a place so public. As Duroy greeted the former, she
took him to task for not having been to see her; then she added with a
smile: "Ah, you prefer Mme. de Marelle; the time passes more pleasantly
with her."

When the waiter handed the wine-list to Forestier, Mme. de Marelle
exclaimed: "Bring the gentle-men whatever they want; as for us, we want
nothing but champagne."

Forestier, who seemed not to have heard her, asked: "Do you object to
my closing the window? My cough has troubled me for several days."

"Not at all."

His wife did not speak. The various courses were duly served and then
the guests began to chat. They discussed a scandal which was being
circulated about a society belle. Forestier was very much amused by it.
Duroy said with a smile: "How many would abandon themselves to a
caprice, a dream of love, if they did not fear that they would pay for
a brief happiness with tears and an irremediable scandal?"

Both women glanced at him approvingly. Forestier cried with a sceptical
laugh: "The poor husbands!" Then they talked of love. Duroy said: "When
I love a woman, everything else in the world is forgotten."

Mme. Forestier murmured: "There is no happiness comparable to that
first clasp of the hand, when one asks: 'Do you love me?' and the other
replies: 'Yes, I love you.'" Mme. de Marelle cried gaily as sh