Monsieur rounded his lips,--My! what a stupid air he had!--and very tenderly, or pretending tenderness, he buzzed: "Why! you are my wife, my little wife, my pretty little wife. There is no harm in entering the room of one's little wife, I suppose." When Monsieur played the imbecile lover, it was because he wanted to get some money out of Madame. She, still suspicious, replied: "Yes, there is harm." And she minced: "Your little wife? Your little wife? It is not so sure that I am your little wife." "What! It is not so sure?" "Indeed, one never knows. Men are so queer." "I tell you, you are my little wife,--my dear, my only little wife ... ah!" "And you ... my baby ... my big baby ... his little wife's only big baby ... na!" I was lacing Madame, who, with bare arms raised, was looking into the mirror. And I had a great desire to laugh. How they tired me with their "little wife" and their "big baby"! What a stupid air they both had! After picking up skirts, stockings, and towels, and disturbing brushes, jars, and bottles, Monsieur took a fashion journal which was lying on the dressing-table, and sat down on a sort of plush-covered stool. He asked: "Is there a rebus in this number?" "Yes, I think there is a rebus." "Have you guessed it?" "No, I have not guessed it." "Ah! ah! let's have a look at it." While Monsieur, with wrinkled brow, was absorbed in the study of the rebus, Madame said, a little dryly: "Robert?" "My darling." "Then you notice nothing?" "No. What? In this rebus?" She shrugged her shoulders, and pursed up her lips. "It is not a question of the rebus. Then you notice nothing? Well, you never notice anything." Monsieur surveyed the room from carpet to ceiling, from dressing-table to door, with an annoyed and a very round look, which was excessively comical. "No, indeed! What is it? Is there anything new here, then, that I have not noticed? I see nothing, upon my word." Madame became very sad, and she groaned: "Robert, you no longer love me." "What! I no longer love you! Indeed, that is putting it a little too strong!" He rose, brandishing the fashion journal. "What! I no longer love you!" he repeated. "Well, that's an idea! Why do you say that?" "No, you no longer love me ... because, if you still loved me, you would have noticed something." "But what thing?" "Well, you would have noticed my corset." "What corset? Oh! yes, this corset. 'Tis true, I had not noticed it. How stupid I am! Why, yes, it is very pretty, you know,... ravishing."