"Don't you believe in my star, Felicie? You are wrong. I can feel that I am capable of creating great parts. Let them only give me a part, and they'll see. And I have in me not only comedy, but drama, tragedy--yes, tragedy. I can deliver verse properly. And that is a talent which is becoming rare in these days. So don't imagine, Felicie, that I am insulting you when I offer you marriage. Far from it! We will marry later on, as soon as it is possible and suitable. Of course, there is no need for hurry. Meanwhile, we will resume our pleasant habits of the Rue des Martyrs. You remember, Felicie; we were so happy there! The bed wasn't wide, but we used to say: "That doesn't matter." I have now two fine rooms in the Rue de la Montagne-Saint-Genevieve, behind Saint-Etienne-du-Mont. Your portrait hangs on every wall. You will find there the little bed of the Rue des Martyrs. Listen to me, I beg of you: I have suffered too much; I will not suffer any longer. I demand that you shall be mine, mine only." While he was speaking, Felicie had taken from the mantelpiece the pack of cards with which her mother played every night, and was spreading them out on the table. "Mine only. You hear me, Felicie." "Don't disturb me, I am busy with a game of patience." "Listen to me, Felicie. I won't have you receiving that fool in your dressing-room." Looking at her cards she murmured: "All the blacks are at the bottom of the pack." "I say that fool. He is a diplomatist, and nowadays the Ministry of Foreign Affairs is the refuge of incompetents." Raising his voice, he continued: "Felicie, for your own sake, as well as for mine, listen to me!" "Well, don't shout, then. Mama is asleep." He continued in muffled tones: "Just get it into your head that I don't intend that Ligny shall be your lover." She raised her spiteful little face, and replied: "And if he is my lover?" He moved a step closer to her, raising his chair, gazing at her with the eye of a madman, and laughing a cracked laugh. "If he is your lover, he won't be so for long." And he dropped the chair. Now she was alarmed. She forced herself to smile. "You know very well I'm joking!" She succeeded without much difficulty in making him believe that she had spoken thus merely to punish him, because he was getting unbearable. He became calmer. She then informed him that she was tired out, that she was dropping with sleep. At last he decided to go home. On the landing he turned, and said: "Felicie, I advise you, if you wish to avoid a tragedy, not to see Ligny again." She cried through the half-open door: "Knock on the window of the porter's lodge, so that he can let you out!" CHAPTER IV