"Well?"

"Well, just now we sent out for a cab, and Helene and I got into it. I ought to have let her go alone; but what can you expect? It is always so hard to part! That woman is exceedingly pa.s.sionate.--Well, we were in the cab. You know that Giraud lives on Rue Poissonniere; I had told the driver to put me down at the corner of the boulevard. We were going along quietly enough, when suddenly we felt that we were thrown against the side of the cab; Helene fell against the door, and I fell upon her; it was all because of an accident to the cab--one of the hind wheels had broken. We shouted like madmen. Helene pushed me away with her hand, which she thrust into my eye, saying that I was stifling her; and I said to her: 'Take your hand away; you are putting out my eye!'--Can't you imagine the picture?"

"I observe that you had ceased to say sweet things to each other."

"Faith! that we had; I believe that we were on the point of insulting each other. Just see how a broken wheel changes the nature of one's feelings. Luckily we were more frightened than hurt. A crowd gathered about our cab. I succeeded in opening the door and jumped out first. But imagine my stupefaction when I saw her husband before me--yes, Montdidier himself, craning his neck to see what had happened."

"Did he recognize you?"

"I haven't an idea; when I saw him, I didn't give him time to speak to me; I turned so suddenly that I nearly upset a peddler who was behind me. I pushed everybody out of my way, and ran to your room without stopping."

"And your unfortunate companion,--did you leave her there?"

"Would you have had me offer her my hand, and play the gallant with her before her husband? It seems to me that I followed the wisest course.

But still, if Montdidier recognized me, and I am afraid he did; if his wife called my name; if--for he must have seen his wife get out of the cab--O heaven! such a hot-tempered, jealous man!"

"He is capable of doing his wife some violence."

"His wife, yes, no doubt, and me too. She was forever saying to me when we were together: 'Ah! if my husband knew, he would kill me! he would kill me!'"

"In that case he might very well try to kill you too."

"It is terrible, it is most distressing. It isn't that I am afraid to fight--you know that it isn't that, because I have proved my courage; but the sensation, the scandal the thing will cause. And then, in reality, I've nothing against Montdidier. He always received me cordially, and invited me to dinner. I bear him no grudge at all."

"You bore n.o.body a grudge but his wife."

"No joking, my dear fellow; it is too serious a matter. This infernal mania for intrigues! But it is all over now; I don't propose to deceive any more husbands. It is most absurd and it is immoral too; I am angry with myself for ever having done it.--What! are you laughing at me again?"

"Yes, I can't help laughing; you remind me of the sailors who pray to G.o.d during the storm and laugh at Him when the weather is fine."

"I don't know if I resemble a sailor, but I do know that I feel very uncomfortable. This adventure so soon after dinner--the charlotte russe lies heavy on my stomach. Come, my dear Blemont, let's not laugh; help me to get out of this fix; I will do as much for you, and you may need me soon, for you are a terrible fellow too,--the terror of husbands.

Great G.o.d! how you have maltreated the poor devils!"

"If I can be of any service to you I shall be glad to, but I don't quite see how, unless I make Montdidier think that it was I who was in the cab with his wife; but that would not rehabilitate the reputation of his Helene, and that is what we must think of first of all."

"That is so, that is what we must think of; although, since she put her finger in my eye, I am not in love with her at all. It is amazing how ugly she looked to me at that moment!"

"She has not always looked ugly to you. She has been kind to you, and you must try to acknowledge it by saving her good name."

"Yes, she has been kind to me, but I don't want any more of her favors.

Oh, even if it can all be straightened out, I say again, no more flirtations with married women, no more illicit love-affairs. Unmarried girls or widows, women without entanglements,--they're all right; with them one doesn't have to hide all the time, to make long detours and hire cabs."

"All such dangers are what give piquancy to that sort of intrigue."

"Thanks; that same piquancy is very pleasant. Oh! just let me get out of this sc.r.a.pe, and I will turn over a new leaf, I will become incorruptible so far as the ladies are concerned. But if I am to have time to turn virtuous, Montdidier must not blow my brains out.--Come, my friend, let us think what it is best to do."

"Go to Giraud's; you can see whether Montdidier is there with his wife; and according to the way he behaves to you, you can easily judge whether he recognized you, and how he has taken the thing."

"Go there and expose myself to his fury, to his wrath, before everybody?

surely you don't mean it, my friend?"

"A man of breeding doesn't take society into his confidence in such matters."

"I told you that Montdidier was a brutal fellow."

"If he thinks that he has been wronged, he won't go to a party with his wife."

"That is true; but there is another way to make sure, and that is for you to go to Giraud's. If our husband and wife are there, you can watch them, and you will be able to tell at once on what terms they are; furthermore, you might slyly give the lady to understand that you have just left me. What do you say? Oh! my dear Blemont, do me this favor; go to Giraud's."

"I will do it solely to oblige you, for the business agent's receptions are not very interesting; and this evening I intended to go to see some very agreeable ladies."

"You can see your ladies to-morrow, they will be in the same place.

Besides, perhaps they are married ladies, and who knows that I am not saving you from some unpleasant sc.r.a.pe?"

"To listen to you, one would think that no one ever called upon a lady except with the design of making a conquest."

"Oh! you see I know you. Come, Blemont, sacrifice your ladies to me; consider that I am between life and death so long as I do not know what to expect."

"To oblige you, I will go to Giraud's."

"You are a friend indeed. It is almost nine o'clock, and the reception is just at its height. To-night there is to be singing and playing. Be prudent, and if our couple are there, watch them closely."

"I'm like the confidential friend in a melodrama."

"I will wait for you at the cafe on the corner of the boulevard; I will drink a gla.s.s of sugar and water. If everything goes well, if I can safely show myself, you will have the kindness to tell me so."

"Very good."

We quickened our pace, and when we reached the corner of Rue Poissonniere, Belan grasped my hand and shook it violently.

"My friend," he said, "I will wait for you at the cafe opposite. Don't say that I am there, don't mention my name."

"Never fear."

I had taken a few steps when I felt someone grasp me from behind; it was Belan again; he had run after me, and he said most earnestly:

"My dear Blemont, I trust that this adventure will cause you to reflect seriously, that it will reform you as it will me. We must mend our ways, my friend. For my own part, I swear on the faith of Ferdinand Belan, that the loveliest woman in Paris, if she is not free----"

I did not wait for the end of the little man's sermon; I smiled and left him, and walked up the street toward Monsieur Giraud's.

III

THE GIRAUD FAMILY

Monsieur Giraud's was a most amusing household; there was nothing extraordinary about it, however, for the absurdities that one met with there are common in society; but in order to be comical, things never need to be extraordinary.