Madame Giraud detained her husband as he was going to take the other lamp, and said to him in an undertone, but not so low that I could not hear her: “Just fancy that Dufloc refusing to sing!” “The deuce! really?” “He says that he has a cold.” “It’s just spitefulness. It’s because we haven’t invited him to dinner.” “We must start something, however. There’s no life at all in the thing.” “We had better begin the dancing right away.” “No, monsieur, it’s too early.” “Then try to get Montausol and his wife to sing, or Mademoiselle Dupuis. Arrange that, while I attend to the lamp.” The husband and wife separated, and I, taking advantage of the renewed light, thought about fulfilling my mission, and I passed the company in review, to see if Montdidier and his chaste spouse were present. There were in truth some very pretty women in that salon, and they would have been still more so if, instead of the yawns which they strove to dissemble, their faces had been enlivened by pleasure. There was one especially, near the piano; she was evidently unmarried. She was charming; her face betokened sweet temper and intelligence, and those are two qualities which one rarely sees in the same face. Lovely fair hair, not too light, blue eyes not too staring, a pretty mouth, a very white skin, pink cheeks, and refined taste in her dress and the arrangement of her hair; it seemed to me that there was refinement in every curl. She did not seem to be bored, which fact indicated that she was accustomed to society. That young woman’s lovely eyes caused me to lose sight of Bélan and his errand. But I suddenly spied Madame Montdidier. She was talking and laughing with the lady beside her. That seemed to me a good sign: if she had had a scene with her husband, it seemed to me that she would not be in such good spirits. To be sure, in society, people are very skilful in concealing their sentiments. I determined to look for the husband; a man is less adroit in concealing what he feels. Even he who is not in love with his wife feels that his self-esteem is wounded when he is certain that he is betrayed. That feeling should be visible on the face when it is so recent. Poor husbands! how we laugh at them so long as we are bachelors! For my part, I hoped to laugh as heartily when I should be married. In the first place, I flattered myself that I should have a virtuous wife; a man should always flatter himself to that extent; and then--if--Bless my soul! is it such a terrible thing? I remembered La Fontaine’s two lines: “When one knows it, ‘tis a very trifle; When one knows it not, ‘tis nothing at all.” I did not discover Montdidier in that salon. I thought that he might perhaps be in the bedroom, where they were playing écarté. I tried to go there; but it was not an easy matter. I wondered if no one would make bold to break the circle formed by those ladies, and I determined to seize the first opportunity.