Mme. Mauperin was putting her hair in papers in front of the glass, which was lighted by a single candle. She was in her skirt and dressing-jacket. Her stout figure, above which her little arms kept moving as if she were crowning herself, threw on the wall a fantastic outline of a woman of fifty in deshabille, and on the paper at the end of the room could be seen wavering about one of those corpulent shadows which one could imagine Hoffman and Daumier sketching from the back of the beds of old married couples. M. Mauperin was already lying down. "Louis!" said Mme. Mauperin. "Well?" answered M. Mauperin, with that accent of indifference, regret, and weariness of a man who, with his eyes still open, is beginning to enjoy the delight of the horizontal position. "Oh, if you are asleep----" "I am not asleep. What is it?" "Oh, nothing. I think Renee behaved most improperly this evening; that's all. Did you notice?" "No, I wasn't paying any attention." "It's just a whim. There isn't the least reason in it. Hasn't she said anything to you? Do you know anything? I'm nowhere--with all your mysteries and secrets. I'm always the last to know about things. It's quite different with you--you are told everything. It's very fortunate that I was not born jealous, don't you think so?" M. Mauperin pulled the sheet up over his shoulder without answering. "You certainly are asleep," continued Mme. Mauperin in the sharp, disappointed tone of a woman who is expecting a parry for her attack. "I told you I wasn't asleep." "Then you surely don't understand. Oh, these intelligent men--it's curious. It concerns you though, too; it's your business quite as much as mine. This is another marriage fallen through--do you understand? A marriage that was most suitable--money--good family--everything. I know what these hesitations mean. We may as well give up all idea of it. Henri was talking to me about it this evening; the young man hadn't said anything to him; of course, he's too well-bred for that. But Henri is quite persuaded that he's drawing out of it. One can always tell in matters of this kind; people have a way of----" "Well, let him draw out of it then; what do you want me to say?" M. Mauperin sat straight up and put his two hands on his thighs. "Let him go. There are plenty of young men like Reverchon; he is not unique, we can find others; while girls like my daughter----" "Good heavens! Your daughter--your daughter!" "You don't do her justice, Therese."