“My dear Ernest,” I said, “Bélan is guilty of thoughtlessness only; he has simply repeated what he overheard.” “Certainly; I only repeated what Madame Blémont told me,” said Bélan. “I invented nothing. Notwithstanding that, monsieur, if you demand satisfaction----” “No, no, Bélan; Ernest sees plainly that I am the only one with whom he has to deal, and you will offend me seriously by interfering in matters which concern myself alone.” Bélan walked away to join his ladies. I do not know what he said to them, but he soon left the ball with them. As they went out, his mother-in-law cast a withering glance at Ernest. I had remained by his side; he was lost in thought and said nothing to me. I first broke the silence. “Ernest, my wife is the cause of all your disagreeable experiences this evening. I cannot explain the motives which have led her to act thus. I do not need to tell you that I disapprove of her conduct; but that probably will not suffice, and I am ready to give you satisfaction.” “No, my dear Blémont; we are not going to fight just because your wife has made some unkind remarks; I do not need to have you explain her motives, for I understand them perfectly.” “You understand them?” “I can guess them, at all events. Your wife is jealous of Marguerite.” “Who can have told you that?” “Look you, my dear fellow; a man does not get to be an author without studying the human heart a little, and especially the female heart.” “It is only too true; my wife is horribly jealous of all the women whom I knew before my marriage. But for that, do you suppose that I would not have invited you and your wife to come to see us?” “I have guessed all that. I am sorry for you, my friend, but I bear you no ill will.” “I am going to invite your wife for the next contradance.” “No, for it will make your wife unhappy.” “She has not hesitated to make me unhappy; and I choose to prove that I have no share in her spiteful remarks.” I invited Madame Ernest for the quadrille; she accepted, saying with a laugh: “I am very glad that you have asked me, monsieur; I thought that you did not consider that I danced well enough for you.” “I am going to dance opposite you,” said Ernest; “then I shall be sure that you will have a vis-à-vis.” The violins struck up. I took my partner’s hand. There were only enough people left to form one set. All our acquaintances had gone. I looked about for my wife. She was ghastly pale, and that made me wretched; I felt all my anger fade away. I was almost sorry that I was dancing; but she should not have driven me to the wall. Suddenly Eugénie rose and came toward me. What was she going to do? “Monsieur, I do not feel well, and I want to go.” “We will go after the quadrille, madame.” “No, monsieur, I want to go at once.” Marguerite overheard my wife, and instantly said: “Monsieur Blémont, if madame your wife is not well, go, I beg you; do not mind me.”