When he saw young Vermoncey enter his office, Monsieur Plays's face assumed a curious expression; it was evident that he was embarrassed, and did not know how he ought to receive his visitor. This reception in no wise surprised Albert, for he knew that Monsieur Plays adapted his ideas to his wife's on every subject; one was sure of a cordial welcome from the husband, so long as he was in madame's good books; but as soon as she looked coldly on anyone, or had trouble with one of her adorers, the dear husband dared not be friendly to the person from whom madame had withdrawn her favor. And as Monsieur Plays was one of those men who would like to be on good terms with the whole world, his wife's caprices sometimes caused him very great embarrassment. "Madame Plays has been giving me a horrible name to her husband," thought Albert, noticing the stiff manner in which the merchant greeted him. And, determined to divert himself with the embarrassment of the unfortunate husband who turned a cold shoulder to the young men who ceased to pay court to his wife, he went up to Monsieur Plays, grasped his hand just as he was about to withdraw it, and shook it violently. "Good-morning, my dear Monsieur Plays!" he cried. "I am delighted to find you. I have been meaning for a long time to come to see you. But time passes so quickly! This is the first moment I have been able to find for a week." Monsieur Plays did not know what reply to make; he bowed, took his pen out of his mouth and put it back again, glanced timidly about the room, as if he feared that his wife would appear, and stammered at last: "Monsieur Albert--certainly--very well--and you---- You are very kind. But, you see, I am working just now--I am doing something----" Albert pretended not to understand the lack of cordiality in that reply; he threw himself into an easy-chair, and continued: "And the pleasures, Monsieur Plays, how do the pleasures, the little love affairs, come on, eh? Aha! it seems that you're a great lover of the sex, but you keep it dark! Oh! you have made many conquests, they say; I've heard of you in the foyer at the Opéra--yes, and in the wings too." The merchant, who was highly flattered to be looked upon as a rake, smiled and rubbed his hands as he replied: "No, really! you have heard of me at the Opéra?--and in the wings? But I have never been there; Madame Plays wouldn't allow it." "I believe you, and she is right. But one may know some of these theatrical ladies without going there." "No, no, I assure you! But, wait; I believe that a lady did ask me one day to pay a draft that had fifteen days to run, on the plea that she had to take a little journey; but I believe she told me she was a _marcheuse._"[L] "You see! you acknowledge the corn, rake that you are!" "What? Why, it never occurred to me that that lady was on the stage. She said she was a _marcheuse_, and I understood that she liked to take long walks."