“Her cat! ha! ha! a charming excuse! That virtuous young woman goes to a bachelor’s room to look for her cat!” “I swear to you that that is the truth!” “And another time she came to ask about her dog, I suppose?” I made no reply, for I felt that I should lose my temper, and in such a case it is wiser to hold one’s tongue. Eugénie saw perhaps that she had gone too far, for after a moment she said to me gently: “We shall have to move anyway when our daughter returns from her nurse’s; this apartment will be too small then. Why should we wait?” “This apartment suits me, madame, and I propose to remain here.” I was not in the habit of resisting my wife; but her suspicions concerning my friendship with Madame Ernest made me angry, and it annoyed me to think of leaving my apartment. Eugénie did not insist; for several days we were on cool terms, and the question of apartments was not mentioned. I saw plainly enough that my wife longed to speak of it, but she dared not. At last I reflected that, after all, the neighbors and concierges and gossips might well have made remarks; such people care for nothing except slandering their neighbors. They had seen me go up to the young woman’s room and they might have thought that Ernest was not there. Why should I force my wife to listen forever to the insinuations of those people? The apartment was distasteful to her. Besides, one must needs do something in order to have peace. Peace! ah, yes! I was beginning to realize that peace is a precious thing, which does not always dwell in families. “If you will dress at once,” I said to Eugénie one morning, “we will go together to look at apartments.” At that she threw herself into my arms and kissed me affectionately; she had recovered all her sunny humor of earlier days. To make the ladies amiable, all that is necessary is to do everything that they want. XI A SCENE We hired an apartment on Boulevard Montmartre; it was rather expensive, but very attractive. We could not take possession for three months. Meanwhile, my wife was in a most delightful mood, save for the petty discussions which occur between the most closely attached couples; for after all, we are not perfect. My Eugénie was as she used to be in the earlier days of our married life; she never mentioned Ernest or Marguerite, and I did not tell her that I went sometimes to see them. One lovely winter morning we determined to go to see our daughter. We could not bear to wait until spring to embrace our little Henriette. No sooner had we formed the plan than I went out to hire a cabriolet for the whole day. I provided a cold chicken, a pie and a bottle of bordeaux; things which are difficult to procure at a nurse’s house, but which are never out of place anywhere. Eugénie wore a large bonnet which protected her from the wind, and a large, thick cloak; I wrapped myself in my own cloak, simply leaving my hands free to drive; and we started for Livry.