"Well," continued eleonore, "my husband often pushes me away when I take a fancy to kiss him."

"He does it in joke, of course?"

"No, monsieur; sometimes he even scolds me; he declares that my manners are vulgar; that only workingmen's wives kiss their husbands like that.

Is that true?"

"Oh! I can't tell you, madame."

"If it is, I am sorry my husband isn't a workingman; because then I could kiss him when I wanted to, and he wouldn't think I was ridiculous."

Calle made no reply, but he thought:

"It seems that this lady is very fond of kissing. If I were her husband, I wouldn't object. She isn't such a beautiful woman as Madame Mirotaine, but her manner is gentler--and then, she seems to be very caressing."

In due time they arrived at Dubotte's abode. eleonore thanked her escort, who bowed respectfully and tried again to make some complimentary remark, but with no better success, although his efforts were rewarded by a courtesy.

"That gentleman is very polite," said Madame Dubotte to herself, as she entered the house; "but he doesn't talk enough."

Monsieur Dubotte, who returned home very late that night, because he had been elsewhere than to his club, did his utmost to get into bed without waking his wife; a manuvre which he often executed, and in which he was very skilful. The next morning, while he was dressing, he said to madame:

"Well, my dear love, were you content with your escort? You got home without accident, I fancy?"

"Oh! yes, he's a very nice young man; he brought me to the door."

"Pardieu! did you suppose he would drop you half-way? You asked him to come to see us, I hope?"

"No, I didn't; why should I ask him?"

"You should have done so; it would have been no more than polite. Do you know, I like that little Calle; I should be very glad to have him visit us. He's a young man to whom one can safely intrust his wife."

"Why, my dear, do you expect to send me about with another man often?"

"I don't say that; but there are unforeseen circ.u.mstances. For instance: we have tickets to the theatre; I often have them, you know, through my connection with the actors. Well, I can't go; or, at least, I can't go till very late; then what do I do? I ask Calle to escort you to the theatre, and I join you there when I have finished my business; do you see?"

"What! you would let me go to the theatre with another man? O Philemon!"

"But if I come and join you there, it's precisely the same thing as if I went with you! That sort of thing is done every day."

"Well, I simply shouldn't enjoy it without you."

"Don't you understand that I would come, too--later?"

"That isn't the same thing."

"Oh! how far behind the times you are, my dear love! Luckily, I know that young man's address; he told us what it was: No. 8, Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne."

"And you mean to go to see him?"

"His cousin was my intimate friend, and he can tell me something about him. Stay! I have an idea: I'll invite him to dinner; the fellow's all right socially, so that we can afford to receive him; he isn't like that scamp Dodichet--there's a man I will never invite! That was a neat trick he played on Mirotaine. But why is this Seringat, this Pontoise druggist, in Paris under an a.s.sumed name? What can he have done with his wife? If I had time, I'd go to Pontoise and find out."

"You'd take me with you, wouldn't you?"

"Oh! there you are again! how amusing that would be! To stuff my wife in my pocket for a little trip of twenty-four hours, and double, yes, treble the expense! That would be downright idiocy. But, don't worry; I haven't the time to go to Pontoise."

XI

DUBOTTe ATTEMPTS TO TRAIN HIS WIFE

A few days later, Dubotte said to his wife:

"My dear love, we shall have two people to dinner to-morrow; tell the cook to be careful with the dinner, and, above all things, don't forget the sweets; I don't enjoy my dinner, you know, unless I have sweets."

"Yes, you have a very sweet tooth."

"Every man who loves women must love sweet things."

"Ah! you love them too well, you bad boy!"

"Sweet things?"

"No, women! If you loved only your own wife, it would be all right."

"My dear love, I might retort: I love _creme au chocolat_! But if you should always give me that for dinner, I might get tired of it."

"What does that mean? that you care no more for me than you do for a _creme au chocolat_?"

"That was a little joke. Think about your dinner for to-morrow."

"Whom have you asked? My two dear friends, Madame Lambert and her sister, I am sure."

"No, I haven't asked your friends. Madame Lambert takes snuff, and I consider it a detestable habit in a woman. Let her smoke, if she wants to; I can stand that; there are some very pretty women who smoke, nowadays. But to carry a snuff-box! horror! When she takes out her handkerchief, you would think you were in a porter's lodge. With her sister it's something else: whenever you look at her, she throws her head to one side and shakes it and blinks her eyes."

"That isn't her fault; it's a nervous trouble."

"I don't say it is her fault, but I don't dare to look at people who have that sort of trouble; I am always afraid that I shall do just what they do. I have asked two gentlemen to dinner; that will be livelier, not so strait-laced; we can laugh and enjoy ourselves. There'll be Bruneau, one of my fellow clerks in the department----"

"Oh! I don't like your friend Bruneau; he's good for nothing but to smoke and drink beer, and doesn't enjoy himself anywhere except in cafes. As soon as dinner's over, he'll want to go to the cafe, of course. So polite to me! If he would only go alone, I wouldn't care a rap; but he always takes you with him!"

"Oh! no, not always; only once in a while, to play a four-handed game of dominoes; he's very strong at it."

"And who's the other?"

"The other--can't you guess? It's the young man who was obliging enough to escort you home the other evening--Monsieur Calle."

"Have you been to his house?"