“Perhaps I could have a half bottle. I’ll go home and take a little nap after lunch. I feel this heat so.... Well, I was telling you that the day before yesterday, when I got back, I went to my writing desk to put some papers away. I pulled open the drawer where I had hidden ... the person in question’s letters. Imagine my stupefaction, my dear fellow; the drawer was empty! Deuce take it! I see exactly what has happened; about a fortnight ago, Pauline came up to Paris with George, to go to the wedding of the daughter of one of my colleagues. I wasn’t able to attend it myself; I was away in Holland.... And besides, functions of that kind are women’s business. Well, there she was, with nothing to do, in an empty flat; under pretence of putting things straight ... you know what women are like--always rather curious ... she began nosing about ... oh! intending no ill--I’m not blaming her. But Pauline has always had a perfect mania for tidying.... Well, what on earth am I to say to her, now that she’s got all the proofs? If only the silly little thing didn’t call me by my Christian name! Such a united couple! When I think what I’m in for!...” The poor man stuck in the slough of his confidences. He dabbed his forehead--fanned himself. I had drunk much less than he. The heart does not furnish compassion at command; I merely felt disgust for him. I could put up with him as the father of a family (though it was painful to me to think that he was Olivier’s father), as a respectable, honest, retired bourgeois; but as a man in love, I could only imagine him ridiculous. I was especially made uncomfortable by the clumsiness and triviality of his words, of his pantomime; neither his face nor his voice seemed suited to the feelings he expressed; it was like a double bass trying to produce the effects of an alto; his instrument brought out nothing but squeaks. “You said that she had George with her....” “Yes; she didn’t want to leave him at the sea-side alone. But naturally in Paris he wasn’t in her pocket the whole time.... Why, my dear fellow, in twenty-six years of married life I have never had the smallest scene, the slightest altercation.... When I think of what’s in store for me!... for Pauline’s coming back in two days.... Oh! I say, let’s talk of something else. Well, what do you think of Vincent? The Prince of Monaco--a cruise.... By Jove!... What! didn’t you know?... Yes; he has gone out in charge of soundings and deep-sea fishing near the Azores. Ah! there’s no need to be anxious about him, I assure you. _He’ll_ make his way all right, without help from anyone.” “His health?” “Completely restored. With his intelligence, I think he is on the high road to becoming famous. The Comte de Passavant made no bones about saying that he considered him one of the most remarkable men he ever met. He even said ‘the _most_ remarkable’ ... but one must make allowances for exaggeration.” The meal was finished; he lit a cigar.