I dared not call on Raymond the same day; but the next day I could wait no longer, and I went to see him. He was not in; he had already gone out. "Does he live alone?" I asked the concierge. "Yes, monsieur; all alone." I went away; I would have liked to know more, but I was almost sure that Nicette did not live with him. I left my name with the concierge, so that Raymond might know that I had been to see him; that would bring him to my house, and perhaps I might be able to speak with him alone. He did not fail to come the next day. He was extraordinarily touched by my kindness in calling on him. He promised to show his attachment for me by coming often to see me. I paid little heed to all the pretty things he said to me; I was vexed because my wife did not leave us. How could I find an opportunity to talk of Nicette? Parbleu! I would ask Raymond to dine; then I would suggest that we go to the theatre in the evening; after dinner my wife would go to dress, and she always spent at least three-quarters of an hour at her toilet; during that time---- Yes, that would do. I invited Raymond to dine with us informally; he grasped my hand and squeezed it till he made me wince, so pleased was he with my kindness; I read in his eyes that he could not understand it. Certainly he must have found me considerably changed. Doubtless he concluded that it was the effect of marriage. The dinner was fairly cheerful; Raymond's conversation never flagged. Formerly, I was bored to death by his chatter, but it was a distraction now; for I was not accustomed to hearing conversation, and I began to experience satisfaction when anyone relieved me from a tête-à-tête with my wife. Everything happened as I had foreseen. I proposed the theatre; my proposition was accepted, my wife went off to dress, and I was alone with Raymond at last. I led the conversation imperceptibly to his conquests. "By the way," said I, "what did you do with the little flower girl?" "Whom do you mean? little Nicette?" "Yes, little Nicette, whom you used to go to make love to every evening." "Oh! it's a long while since that was all over, and I have ceased to think of her! I have had so many others since!" "She was your mistress, then?" "Yes, for three or four days; and then I dropped her." "Don't you see her now?" "Never. I don't even know where she is, for she has left her shop. Oh! somebody keeps her now, I presume. That little creature had the most absurd pretensions! she wanted to play the lady, and that sickened me! When I want a _petite-maîtresse_, I don't apply to a flower girl. Everyone should stay where she belongs.--By the way, speaking of _petites-maîtresses_, let us speak of your wife. She is really beautiful! and so amiable, too! and she fairly sparkles with wit! I saw that at the first glance. Deuce take it! how lucky you are, my dear fellow!"