Bélan saw that I was scrutinizing him. He stood on tiptoe again, and said to me in an offended tone, for the little man is easily hurt and irritated: “You look as if you were surprised that it is about a love intrigue. Does it astonish you that I turn the heads of the ladies?” “No, my dear fellow; but I am astonished that you are so excited, as it is nothing more than a thing to which you must be accustomed.” “Ah! but it is not always so serious as it is to-day.--You must know that I am on the best of terms with Madame de Montdidier?” “Faith, no, I didn’t know it.” “What! you didn’t know that? A rake like you--a man after my own heart!” “You do me too much honor.” “To be sure, I haven’t mentioned it to anybody, for I am discretion itself; but such things are always noticed; ordinarily the husband is the only person who does not detect them.” “Has he detected something this time?” “Listen: Montdidier is a quick-tempered man, brutal even, so his wife says; and more than that, horribly jealous.” “All this does not prevent him from being----” “No, such things never do prevent it; on the contrary, they make one want--However, you will see that it necessitated extra precaution and prudence. He is not one of the husbands who go half-way to meet you, who constantly ask you to act as their wife’s escort, to go with her to the play or to walk; one of those husbands, in short, who seem to say to you: ‘Make me a cuckold; I should like it.’” “It is true that there are some like that.” “What I had to do was to deceive an Argus, an Othello; I had to invent some stratagem day after day. Luckily I am never at a loss.” “You are very fortunate.” “To-day Montdidier dined out; a ceremonious dinner which he could not avoid attending. Thereupon we laid our plans. His wife pretended to dine early, and then she said that she was going to see her aunt; she did leave the house, in fact, but she joined me at a little restaurant on Boulevard du Temple. Everything passed off as we had agreed; we had an excellent dinner, et cætera, et cætera!” “Yes, many _et cæteras_, no doubt.” “I beg you to believe that there were a great many. In the evening, Hélène--that is the name of my inamorata----” “The name suits her very well.” “That is so, on my word! I hadn’t thought of that. Well, Hélène had to go to join her Menelaus. Ha! ha! that is very amusing--Menelaus----” “And you are Paris!” “Just so, I am Paris. What a pity that I cannot laugh now!--Well, Hélène was to join her husband at Giraud’s, who gives a reception to-night. You know Giraud, a loquacious fellow, who thinks that he’s a business agent because he has three boxes standing on his desk, and who has a mania for trying to marry everybody, and that merely that he and his wife may be present at the wedding?” “Yes, I know him.” “I was to go to Giraud’s too, but not until later; we did not want to arrive together. People are talking enough already, and I have such a terrible reputation.” “Well?”