Madame--But she sent us an invitation a week ago, though I don't know what became of the card. I forgot to show it to you. Monsieur--You forgot! you forgot! Madame--Well, it is all for the best; I know you would have been sulky all the week after. Come to dinner. They sat down to table. The cloth was white, the cutlery bright, the oysters fresh; the partridge, cooked to perfection, exhaled a delightful odor. Madame was charming, and laughed at everything. Monsieur unbent his brows and stretched himself on the chair. Monsieur--This Pomard is very good. Won't you have some, little dear? Madame--Yes, your little dear will. (She pushes forward her glass with a coquettish movement.) Monsieur--Ah! you have put on your Louis Seize ring. It is a very pretty ring. Madame--(putting her hand under her husband's nose)--Yes; but look--see, there is a little bit coming off. Monsieur--(kissing his wife's hand)--Where is the little bit? Madame--(smiling)--You jest at everything. I am speaking seriously. There--look--it is plain enough! (They draw near once another and bend their heads together to see it.) Don't you see it? (She points out a spot on the ring with a rosy and slender finger.) There! do you see now --there? Monsieur--That little pearl which--What on earth have you been putting on your hair, my dear? It smells very nice--You must send it to the jeweller. The scent is exquisite. Curls don't become you badly. Madame--Do you think so? (She adjusts her coiffure with her white hand.) I thought you would like that scent; now, if I were in your place I should-- Monsieur--What would you do in my place, dear? Madame--I should--kiss my wife. Monsieur--(kissing her)--Well, I must say you have very bright ideas sometimes. Give me a little bit more partridge, please. (With his mouth full.) How pretty these poor little creatures look when running among the corn. You know the cry they give when the sun sets?--A little gravy.-- There are moments when the poetic side of country life appeals to one. And to think that there are barbarians who eat them with cabbage. But (filling his glass) have you a gown ready? Madame--(with innocent astonishment.)--What for, dear? Monsieur--Why, for Madame de Lyr's-- Madame--For the ball?--What a memory you have--There you are still thinking of it--No, I have not--ah! yes, I have my tarletan, you know; but then a woman needs so little to make up a ball-room toilette. Monsieur--And the hairdresser, has he been sent for? Madame--No, he has not been sent for; but I am not anxious to go to this ball. We will settle down by the fireside, read a little, and go to bed early. You remind me, however, that, on leaving, Madame de Lyr did say, "Your hairdresser is the same as mine, I will send him word." How stupid I am; I remember now that I did not answer her. But it is not far, I can send Marie to tell him not to come.