“Pooh-pooh! nonsense!”
“Yes, indeed, my lord; you must permit me to go and make a little toilette.”
“No ceremony, I pray!” rejoined the Baron. “After curfew, one is at least free to receive one’s friends in what costume one likes. Besides, my dear friend, there is something which requires more immediate attention.”
“What is that, my lord?”
“To restore Madame Magloire to her senses, who, you see, has fainted in my arms.”
“Fainted! Suzanne fainted! Ah! my God!” cried the little man, putting down his candle on the chimneypiece, “how ever did such a misfortune happen?”
“Wait, wait, Monsieur Magloire!” said my lord, “we must first get your wife into a more comfortable position in an armchair; nothing annoys women so much as not to be at their ease when they are unfortunate enough to faint.”
“You are right, my lord; let us first put her in the armchair. … Oh Suzanne! poor Suzanne! How can such a thing as this have happened?”
“I pray you at least, my dear fellow, not to think any ill of me at finding me in your house at such a time of night!”
“Far from it, my lord,” replied the Bailiff, “the friendship with which you honour us, and the virtue of Madame Magloire are sufficient guarantees for me to be glad at any hour to have my house honoured by your presence.”
“Triple dyed idiot!” murmured the shoemaker, “unless I ought rather to call him a doubly clever dissembler. … No matter which, however! we have yet to see how my lord is going to get out of it.”
“Nevertheless,” continued Maître Magloire, dipping a handkerchief into some aromatic water, and bathing his wife’s temples with it, “nevertheless, I am curious to know how my poor wife can have received such a shock.”
“It’s a simple affair enough, as I will explain, my dear fellow. I was returning from dining with my friend, de Vivières, and passing through Erneville on my way to Vez, I caught sight of an open window, and a woman inside making signals of distress.”
“Ah! my God!”
“That is what I exclaimed, when I realised that the window belonged to your house; and can it be my friend the Bailiff’s wife, I thought, who is in danger and in need of help?”
“You are good indeed, my lord,” said the Bailiff quite overcome. “I trust it was nothing of the sort.”
“On the contrary, my dear man.”
“How! on the contrary?”
“Yes, as you will see.”
“You make me shudder, my lord! And do you mean that my wife was in need of help and did not call me?”
“It had been her first thought to call you, but she abstained from doing so, for, and here you see her delicacy of feeling, she was afraid that if you came, your precious life might be endangered.”
The Bailiff turned pale and gave an exclamation.
“My precious life, as you are good enough to call it, is in danger?”
“Not now, since I am here.”
“But tell me, I pray, my lord, what had happened? I would question my wife, but as you see she is not yet able to answer.”
“And am I not here to answer in her stead?”
“Answer then, my lord, as you are kind enough to offer to do so; I am listening.”
The Baron made a gesture of assent, and went on:
“So I ran to her, and seeing her all trembling and alarmed, I asked, ‘What is the matter, Madame Magloire, and what is causing you so much alarm?’ ‘Ah! my lord,’ she replied, ‘just think what I feel, when I tell you that yesterday and today, my husband has been entertaining a man about whom I have the worst suspicions. Ugh! A man who has introduced himself under the pretence of friendship to my dear Magloire, and actually makes love to me, to me. …’ ”
“She told you that?”
“Word for word, my dear fellow! She cannot hear what we are saying, I hope?”
“How can she, when she is insensible?”
“Well, ask her yourself when she comes to, and if she does not tell you exactly to the letter what I have been telling you, call me a Turk, an infidel and a heretic.”
“Ah! these men! these men!” murmured the Bailiff.
“Yes, race of vipers!” continued my lord of Vez, “do you wish me to go on?”
“Yes, indeed!” said the little man, forgetting the scantiness of his attire in the interest excited in him by the Baron’s tale.
“ ‘But Madame,’ I said to my friend Madame Magloire, ‘How could you tell that he had the audacity to love you?’ ”
“Yes,” put in the Bailiff, “how did she find it out? I never noticed anything myself.”
“You would have been aware of it, my dear friend, if only you had looked under the table; but, fond of your dinner as you are, you were not likely to be looking at the dishes on the table and underneath it at the same time.”
“The truth is, my lord, we had the most perfect little supper! just you think now—cutlets of young wild-boar. …”
“Very well,” said the Baron, “now you are going to tell me about your supper, instead of listening to the end of my tale, a tale which concerns the life and honour of your wife!”
“True, true, my poor Suzanne! My lord, help me to open her hands, that I may slap them on the palms.”
The Lord of Vez gave all the assistance in his power to Monsieur Magloire, and by dint of their united efforts they forced open Madame Magloire’s hands.
The good man, now easier in his mind, began slapping his wife’s palms with his chubby little hands, all the while giving his attention to the remainder of the Baron’s interesting and veracious story.
“Where had I got to?” he asked.
“You had got just to where my poor Suzanne, whom one may indeed call ‘the chaste Suzanna. …’ ”
“Yes, you may well say that!” interrupted the lord of Vez.
“Indeed, I do! You had just got to where
