“Well, just now we sent out for a cab, and Hélène and I got into it. I ought to have let her go alone; but what can you expect? It is always so hard to part! That woman is exceedingly passionate.--Well, we were in the cab. You know that Giraud lives on Rue Poissonnière; I had told the driver to put me down at the corner of the boulevard. We were going along quietly enough, when suddenly we felt that we were thrown against the side of the cab; Hélène fell against the door, and I fell upon her; it was all because of an accident to the cab--one of the hind wheels had broken. We shouted like madmen. Hélène pushed me away with her hand, which she thrust into my eye, saying that I was stifling her; and I said to her: ‘Take your hand away; you are putting out my eye!’--Can’t you imagine the picture?” “I observe that you had ceased to say sweet things to each other.” “Faith! that we had; I believe that we were on the point of insulting each other. Just see how a broken wheel changes the nature of one’s feelings. Luckily we were more frightened than hurt. A crowd gathered about our cab. I succeeded in opening the door and jumped out first. But imagine my stupefaction when I saw her husband before me--yes, Montdidier himself, craning his neck to see what had happened.” “Did he recognize you?” “I haven’t an idea; when I saw him, I didn’t give him time to speak to me; I turned so suddenly that I nearly upset a peddler who was behind me. I pushed everybody out of my way, and ran to your room without stopping.” “And your unfortunate companion,--did you leave her there?” “Would you have had me offer her my hand, and play the gallant with her before her husband? It seems to me that I followed the wisest course. But still, if Montdidier recognized me, and I am afraid he did; if his wife called my name; if--for he must have seen his wife get out of the cab--O heaven! such a hot-tempered, jealous man!” “He is capable of doing his wife some violence.” “His wife, yes, no doubt, and me too. She was forever saying to me when we were together: ‘Ah! if my husband knew, he would kill me! he would kill me!’” “In that case he might very well try to kill you too.” “It is terrible, it is most distressing. It isn’t that I am afraid to fight--you know that it isn’t that, because I have proved my courage; but the sensation, the scandal the thing will cause. And then, in reality, I’ve nothing against Montdidier. He always received me cordially, and invited me to dinner. I bear him no grudge at all.” “You bore nobody a grudge but his wife.” “No joking, my dear fellow; it is too serious a matter. This infernal mania for intrigues! But it is all over now; I don’t propose to deceive any more husbands. It is most absurd and it is immoral too; I am angry with myself for ever having done it.--What! are you laughing at me again?” “Yes, I can’t help laughing; you remind me of the sailors who pray to God during the storm and laugh at Him when the weather is fine.”