"I was coming to see you, Plays," said his friend; "but what's the matter with you, pray? you seem rather excited."

Monsieur Plays wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, and replied:

"Faith! I have good reason; just listen. I went home just now, unexpectedly, it is true, for I wanted to tell my wife that I have a box for the Bouffes; I opened her bedroom door, without knocking, and I found her--I found her--with one of my cousins--in a position--there was no mistake about it--you understand, don't you?"

"Oh! yes, I understand perfectly. Well, didn't you do anything?"

"Yes. I went out again and slammed the door with all my might! They must have seen that I didn't like it."

And the adventure had no other consequences, except that when he next appeared before his wife Monsieur Plays had a sheepish look, as if he were ashamed of the way he had ventured to slam the door.

Such was Herminie Plays's husband. He did a large commission business and made a great deal of money; which was very necessary in his household, as madame spent an enormous amount for her dress and her pleasures.

It was half-past eight o'clock. The weather was fair and warm, for it was still summer; but the daylight was beginning to fade, and one had to be very near a person to distinguish his features plainly.

There was a large throng in the neighborhood of the flower market of the Chaussee d'Antin--that is to say, beside the Madeleine. There were not many flowers left; still there were enough to content the modest purchasers who came late in order to pay less.

For ten minutes, a woman dressed in the height of fashion had been walking back and forth in front of the rosebushes, myrtles, and orange-trees; sometimes she walked on the outer edge of the sidewalk, to avoid the people who were examining the shrubs; but her glances ranged over the whole market and its neighborhood; not a man pa.s.sed without her looking closely at him to make sure that it was not he for whom she was waiting; you have already divined that the woman was Herminie Plays.

There was an impatient gleam in her eyes, for a rendezvous of this sort was something to which she was not accustomed; and if Monsieur Albert Vermoncey had not been a very fascinating young man, it is probable that she would already have left the place.

Suddenly a short, stout young man came toward her, walking as rapidly as his little legs would allow. She saw him coming, but she was about to turn her head away, for he was not the young man she was expecting, when he halted in front of her and raised his hat, saying:

"It is surely Madame Plays to whom I have the honor of wishing a good-evening?"

"Yes, monsieur. Ah! it is Monsieur Tobie Pigeonnier! I did not recognize you at first--it is getting quite dark."

"I recognized you at once, madame; but you have one of those figures which it is impossible to mistake, and which attract one's eye instantly."

"You are too gallant, monsieur; but I beg your pardon--I am looking for somebody, and I am afraid----"

"Do not look for him, it is useless; he will not come--at least, not at this moment."

"What! what do you mean?"

"That I come from Albert Vermoncey, my intimate friend, who is prevented by important business from joining you just yet."

"What do you say? he has told you--why, that is very indiscreet on Monsieur Albert's part. Really, men are a hundred times more garrulous than women!"

"That is true! O mon Dieu! how true it is!"

"I trust that you do not believe----"

"I believe only that Albert is very fortunate when he is with you."

"That is too kind of you! but what did he tell you to say to me?"

"To offer a thousand excuses--and then, to escort you to a place where he will join us--a little later."

"Ah! he will join us--and he has sent you to keep me company?"

"If you will be good enough to accept the subst.i.tution."

"This seems to me rather inconsiderate on Monsieur Albert's part. I don't know if I ought to believe you."

"Here's a letter which he gave me for you, so that you might have full confidence in me."

Madame Plays took the letter, opened it, recognized Albert's signature, and tried to read it; but it was too dark, so she folded the letter and put it in her bosom, saying:

"I will read it later; but I see that Albert did really send you to me.

What a harebrained performance! it is characteristic of him! Well, where are we to wait for him?"

"I will escort you. Will you deign to accept my arm?"

"I must. Oh! this is too absurd; but I can't help laughing at the idea.

Ha! ha! what a madman that Albert is!"

Madame Plays took Tobie's arm, and leaned heavily upon it, because it tired her to walk; but her cavalier did not complain; he mistook for a tender pressure what was simply the result of the lady's embonpoint, and, in his turn, he began thus early to press amorously to his side the arm that was pa.s.sed through his.

Pigeonnier led Madame Plays toward the Champs-elysees. He knew that he would find in that direction an abundance of restaurants with private dining-rooms. It was so late, that the lady had surely dined; and he was not sorry for that, because he would have to regale her with ices or punch only, which were much less expensive; he had already considered all these little details. He preferred not to spend the twelve francs he had obtained on his coat, for he wanted to keep something with which to play bouillotte, hoping to win enough at that game to pay for his share of the dinner.

"Are you taking me to the Circus?" asked Madame Plays, when she saw that they were going toward the Champs-elysees.

"No. That isn't where Albert is to meet us, but at a nice little restaurant over yonder."

"A restaurant! but I have dined!"

"Really--you have dined? Ah! that's a pity; however, we can take something all the same."

"You act as if you weren't certain of the place where Albert is to meet us."

"I beg your pardon--look--that is the place."

"What! under that mountebank's tent?"

"No; behind it--that cafe. Yes, that's the place."

Tobie led his charge into a sort of cafe, and told the waiter who came forward to meet them to show them to one of the private rooms on the first floor. Madame Plays did not seem at all alarmed when she heard her escort ask for a private room. She was afraid of nothing; indeed, she was strong enough to check any enterprise which did not please her. So she followed with an a.s.sured step as the waiter led them upstairs, then through a pa.s.sageway, and opened the door of a small room looking on the Champs-elysees.

"What can I offer you?" inquired Tobie of his charming companion; "ices, punch?"

"I will take an ice."

"Very good.--Waiter, some ices."

As the waiter left the room, Madame Plays exclaimed:

"Why don't you tell him that a gentleman will come and ask for us?"