"Monsieur Dauberny stopped in front of a hovel that was styled a café, and looked through the window. It must have been hard to distinguish anything, for the glass was covered with a coating of smoke; and Monsieur Dauberny, who probably had not succeeded in looking in, seemed to hesitate, when a man entered the street at the other end and tapped my husband on the shoulder. I recognized the new-comer as one Faisandé, who was very intimate with Monsieur Dauberny, and sometimes came to the house; but the fellow, who was a clerk at the Treasury, had always seemed to me so reserved in his language, he professed to entertain such rigid principles and displayed so little indulgence for the most trivial peccadilloes, that I believed him to be a perfect Cato!" "Faisandé!" cried I; "a clerk at the Treasury! Hypocrite, tartuffe, and debauchee! Ah! that's the very man!" "Do you know him?" "He was at the dinner at Deffieux's, the night that I made bold to attend Mademoiselle Guillardin's ball. He was very much shocked because we were a little free in our talk; he preached morality to us." "Oh! that's the man to the life! Let me finish my story: "When Monsieur Faisandé appeared, I stretched myself out on a stone bench in front of the hovel. I turned my face to the wall, and listened to their talk. "'I was waiting for you,' my husband said. "'Why didn't you go in?' "'I am not so well known here as you are. I was not sure that they'd give me the little secret room.' "'You must say: "I am Saint-Germain's friend,"--that's the name I go by here,--and they'd have taken you there at once.' "'It seems that you're a regular habitué?' "'I sometimes pass a whole week here, without putting my nose outside the door.' "'A week! What about your place?' "'I let it go to the devil!' "'And your wife?' "'The same with her. I have never put myself out for her. A week after my wedding, I slept away from home three nights in succession. A man should always put his wife on the proper footing at the outset. You ought to have done the same with yours.' "'Oh! my wife pays very little attention to what I do. I can stay away all night if I choose; she won't say anything.' "'That's all right! But let's go in; the women must be here, waiting for us.' "'How many are there?' "'Two each, or rather four each, as there are four of them.--Ha! ha!' "'Pardieu! that's true. By the way, remember not to call me anything but Bouqueton.' "'And I am Saint-Germain.' "'It's a good idea to change our names.' "'All the better, when you have a grudge against someone: you take his name in some risky affair, and if there's any trouble about it, why, it all comes back on the man whose name you took.' "'What a devil of a fellow! He thinks of everything; he's far-sighted. Let's go in.'