“Yes,” said Crevel, with a smile, “you have been too much in the wars; and of the two forms of metal that may be earned by worshiping the god of trade, you have taken the worse--the dross!” [This dialogue is garnished with puns for which it is difficult to find any English equivalent.] And Crevel roared with laughter. Though Marneffe could take offence if his honor were in peril, he always took these rough pleasantries in good part; they were the small coin of conversation between him and Crevel. “The daughters of Eve cost me dear, no doubt; but, by the powers! ‘Short and sweet’ is my motto.” “‘Long and happy’ is more to my mind,” returned Crevel. Madame Marneffe now came in; she saw that her husband was at cards with Crevel, and only the Baron in the room besides; a mere glance at the municipal dignitary showed her the frame of mind he was in, and her line of conduct was at once decided on. “Marneffe, my dear boy,” said she, leaning on her husband’s shoulder, and passing her pretty fingers through his dingy gray hair, but without succeeding in covering his bald head with it, “it is very late for you; you ought to be in bed. To-morrow, you know, you must dose yourself by the doctor’s orders. Reine will give you your herb tea at seven. If you wish to live, give up your game.” “We will pay it out up to five points,” said Marneffe to Crevel. “Very good--I have scored two,” replied the Mayor. “How long will it take you?” “Ten minutes,” said Marneffe. “It is eleven o’clock,” replied Valerie. “Really, Monsieur Crevel, one might fancy you meant to kill my husband. Make haste, at any rate.” This double-barreled speech made Crevel and Hulot smile, and even Marneffe himself. Valerie sat down to talk to Hector. “You must leave, my dearest,” said she in Hulot’s ear. “Walk up and down the Rue Vanneau, and come in again when you see Crevel go out.” “I would rather leave this room and go into your room through the dressing-room door. You could tell Reine to let me in.” “Reine is upstairs attending to Lisbeth.” “Well, suppose then I go up to Lisbeth’s rooms?” Danger hemmed in Valerie on every side; she foresaw a discussion with Crevel, and could not allow Hulot to be in her room, where he could hear all that went on.--And the Brazilian was upstairs with Lisbeth. “Really, you men, when you have a notion in your head, you would burn a house down to get into it!” exclaimed she. “Lisbeth is not in a fit state to admit you.--Are you afraid of catching cold in the street? Be off there--or good-night.” “Good evening, gentlemen,” said the Baron to the other two. Hulot, when piqued in his old man’s vanity, was bent on proving that he could play the young man by waiting for the happy hour in the open air, and he went away. Marneffe bid his wife good-night, taking her hands with a semblance of devotion. Valerie pressed her husband’s hand with a significant glance, conveying: “Get rid of Crevel.”