Léon had wanted, it appeared, to reunite her to her husband. This was the height of kindness on his part; she would repay him by showing him that his efforts were a little in arrear of the facts. But alas! once more she showed that lack of intelligence to be found in the cleverest of women when they are dealing with the man they love. She understood the man--she had proved it--but she muddled the love. She should have hooked her fish before she dangled it before the exasperated eyes of Léon, and she should have remembered that it was only half a fish--and half an artist. But at first she was satisfied with the rôle of the perfect wife--instantly she succeeded in exasperating Léon. She drew her husband skilfully and prominently into the front of the situation; she did not praise him, but little by little she tapped the fount of his successes. She laid him out before her guests with delicate touches that were far finer than praise. It was intoxicating for Monsieur Gérard. After a week’s complete indifference he found himself a hero in his wife’s eyes! He found himself also in the most comfortable chair in the room (for with men over forty a certain attention must be paid to an appropriate background) and enjoying a wonderful “gouter” in which his taste ruled supreme. Lately Madame had not studied his taste, but for the occasion everything his fancy desired had been obtained for him. His future spread before him in a rosy glow--after all this marriage of his had not been a great mistake--he rather wished he had not taken Léon into his confidence about it; still, it was amusing to watch the fellow’s nose slipping out of joint! He would now have to return to his dull little wife--that would be punishment enough for any man! Léon was a bad loser; he became first restive, then actively hostile, finally sulky. Madame turned his active hostility into gentle ridicule; his restlessness served somehow to bring out the grand nature of Monsieur Gérard. The grand nature of Monsieur Gérard was not as a rule, active; and Léon, confronted with a specimen of it, sank into silent resentment. Even this tent of Achilles was not, however, left to him; it blew this way and that under the delicate raillery of Madame. She noticed that Monsieur was out of spirits?