"Oh, you needn’t be so conceited about it! If you are still living together—it is because ..." she stopped a moment to correct the beady fringe of the eyes, "because your wife is a very, very clever woman!" "What?" "Oh, just that! ... and because she finds she can lead you around conveniently by the nose ... just so!" She leaned over and illustrated her meaning with a little tweak before he could defend himself. "I see, you are quite furious that we are not divorced!" She shrugged her shoulders. "How many months is it?..." "Three years ... Three and a half!" "Bah! there is still hope!" To tease her for this, he drew back, grinning with elation. "Oh, you are having a beautiful time of it!" she said, watching him in the mirror. "It amuses you very much! ... But just you wait!" She raised her hand, counting the fingers. "Three, four, five—five years! That is the worst bridge of all! ... Even my old Jacquot—poor soul—stood me for five years! ... Just wait!" Then, struck by a sudden reflection, she proceeded to revenge herself. "If you are happy, I was right, after all! You remember ... first time I saw Chartèrs ... I said ’it is not an actress, it is a woman!’ ..." She emphasized the point with a satisfied shrug. "I was right, and there you are!" "Well, Emma, don’t let’s fight," he said, hugely amused. "I’m glad to see you again!" "I, too," she said, tapping his arm, and turning her darkened face towards him for better inspection. "Better so, _hein_? ... So you are rich now, Teddy ... An uncle was good enough to die?" "Two!..." "Ah! ... what a pity! ... And now you are spoiled!" She began to soften the shadows of the eyes. "Tell me one thing..." "Yes?..." "You ... you did not tell her—the wife—about our little conspiracy?—the night of the cowboy party, _hein_?..." As he hesitated she caught the accusatory look in his eyes, and she wheeled about. "_Comment_! ... You were so stupid! ... _Dieu! que les hommes sont sôts_!" "Nonsense! ... she laughed over it!" he said, recovering himself. "Besides, she had guessed it already!" "My dear Teddy," she said, in very bad humor, "I take back all I said ... You were born a husband—typical! ideal!—You would be content with any one! ... with Victorine, even!" She flung the rabbit’s foot furiously among the pigments. "_Allons_, we might just as well say adieu!" "Why?" "She does not know you have come?" "No, but..." "Well, well ... don’t be fool enough to tell her! ... Go right back now. Make a call in some box where she can see you, and escape a good..." She stopped, shaking her hand in the direction of his ear. "You are mistaken!" he began, flushing. "You don’t know her..." "Mistaken ... tra-la-la! ... and I know her! ... All I have to do is to see you, my poor Teddy, to understand ... absolutely ... in every little detail ... the woman who makes you so ... So—adieu!" "It is not as tragic as all that," he said, laughing, but giving his hand. "Adieu! ... adieu!"