“And why has she deserted us for that stupid creature?” “Well,” said Marneffe, “Mademoiselle Lisbeth came back from dining with the Baroness with an attack of indigestion and Mathurine asked Valerie for some tea for her, so my wife went up to see what was the matter.” “And _her_ cousin?” “He is gone.” “Do you really believe that?” said the Baron. “I have seen him to his carriage,” replied Marneffe, with a hideous smirk. The wheels of a departing carriage were audible in the street. The Baron, counting Marneffe for nothing, went upstairs to Lisbeth. An idea flashed through him such as the heart sends to the brain when it is on fire with jealousy. Marneffe’s baseness was so well known to him, that he could imagine the most degrading connivance between husband and wife. “What has become of all the ladies and gentlemen?” said Marneffe, finding himself alone with Crevel. “When the sun goes to bed, the cocks and hens follow suit,” said Crevel. “Madame Marneffe disappeared, and her adorers departed. Will you play a game of piquet?” added Crevel, who meant to remain. He too believed that the Brazilian was in the house. Monsieur Marneffe agreed. The Mayor was a match for the Baron. Simply by playing cards with the husband he could stay on indefinitely; and Marneffe, since the suppression of the public tables, was quite satisfied with the more limited opportunities of private play. Baron Hulot went quickly up to Lisbeth’s apartment, but the door was locked, and the usual inquiries through the door took up time enough to enable the two light-handed and cunning women to arrange the scene of an attack of indigestion with the accessories of tea. Lisbeth was in such pain that Valerie was very much alarmed, and consequently hardly paid any heed to the Baron’s furious entrance. Indisposition is one of the screens most often placed by women to ward off a quarrel. Hulot peeped about, here and there, but could see no spot in Cousin Betty’s room where a Brazilian might lie hidden. “Your indigestion does honor to my wife’s dinner, Lisbeth,” said he, scrutinizing her, for Lisbeth was perfectly well, trying to imitate the hiccough of spasmodic indigestion as she drank her tea. “How lucky it is that dear Betty should be living under my roof!” said Madame Marneffe. “But for me, the poor thing would have died.” “You look as if you only half believed it,” added Lisbeth, turning to the Baron, “and that would be a shame----” “Why?” asked the Baron. “Do you know the purpose of my visit?” And he leered at the door of a dressing-closet from which the key had been withdrawn. “Are you talking Greek?” said Madame Marneffe, with an appealing look of misprized tenderness and devotedness. “But it is all through you, my dear cousin; yes, it is your doing that I am in such a state,” said Lisbeth vehemently. This speech diverted the Baron’s attention; he looked at the old maid with the greatest astonishment.