"Where is your poniard now? where is your helmet? where is your buckler, Martha? It is you who have to soothe this Pharaoh! this Nebuchadnezzar. . . . Ah, ha! behold Judith calming the emotion of Holofernes!" All this was utterly incomprehensible to Létorière, who, for the moment, surprised by the sudden apparition of the councillor, could hardly control the desire to laugh which the grotesque figure of Flachsinfingen excited. But Martha, as much irritated as humiliated by her husband's raillery at the foolish precautions she had taken, rushed towards him angrily, crying: "Are you not ashamed to employ such vile means to play the spy upon your wife? Oh, you odious tyrant! Oh, you abominably jealous man! God o' mercy! have I ever given you cause to doubt my virtue?" And Martha raised her eyes towards heaven to call God to witness the injustice of the poor councillor's suspicion, who, astonished, stupefied by such unexpected reproaches, stood with open mouth, the blunderbuss in his hand. "How then, my wife," said he; "you? . . ." "I will hear nothing from you," said Martha, taking him by the arm . . . "Leave me." . . . "But, . . ." "Go away, sir . . . go away . . . your presence makes me sick!" and Martha rudely pushed her husband towards the door of a closet which opened from the room. "But . . . my wife!" . . . said the councillor, still expostulating. "And before this young man, too! Heavens! what will he think of me?" cried Martha. "But, what the devil! . . . it is you who . . ." "To lie in ambush there traitorously, with a blunderbuss!" added Martha. "But really . . . my wife!"--and the councillor, losing ground, was still pushed towards the door. "A veritable assassin! worthy of an Italian bandit!" continued Martha, with horror. "Nevertheless, wife, it was you who . . ." "An Aulic Councillor to play such a part! You disgust me! . . . go out! . . . go out!" . . . And after a pretty long struggle, Flachsinfingen disappeared in the closet, of which his wife drew the bolts. "Well done!" said Létorière, laughing inwardly at seeing himself shut up with Martha; "it is no longer she, but myself now, who has need of defence. . . . I don't like the presence of the man with the blunderbuss," he added, looking round him with a frightened air. Martha soon returned, her eyes cast down like an offended prude's. "I am so confused at this scene, sir! . . . Alas! my husband is unhappily jealous . . . frightfully jealous! Good gracious! without the least reason! He is, in short, so fanciful, that, knowing I was going to have an interview with you . . . with a young gentleman" . . . and the lady hesitated, "whom they say; . . . in short . . . whose reputation is such; . . . in a word . . . my husband hid himself . . . for . . . my grief! you comprehend the rest!" "Yes, madame, I have already been told that the councillor was very jealous," said the Marquis, timidly. "Ah! . . . you have been told that!"--and Martha simpered.