Scarcely was the wish uttered, when the door of communication between Suzanne’s room and that of Monsieur Magloire was thrown wide open, and in walked her husband with an enormous night-cap on his head, which made him look nearly five feet high, and holding a lighted candle in his hand. “Ah! ah!” muttered Thibault. “Well done! It’s my turn to laugh now, Madame Magloire.” CHAPTER XIII WHERE IT IS DEMONSTRATED THAT A WOMAN NEVER SPEAKS MORE ELOQUENTLY THAN WHEN SHE HOLDS HER TONGUE. As Thibault was talking to himself he did not catch the few hurried words which Suzanne whispered to the Baron; and all he saw was that she appeared to totter, and then fell back into her lover’s arms, as if in a dead faint. The Bailiff stopped short as he caught sight of this curious group, lit up by his candle. He was facing Thibault, and the latter endeavoured to read in Monsieur Magloire’s face what was passing in his mind. But the Bailiff’s jovial physiognomy was not made by nature to express any strong emotion, and Thibault could detect nothing in it but a benevolent astonishment on the part of the amiable husband. The Baron, also, evidently detected nothing more, for with a coolness and ease of manner, which produced on Thibault a surprise beyond expression, he turned to the Bailiff, and asked: “Well, friend Magloire, and how do you carry your wine this evening?” “Why, is it you, my lord?” replied the Bailiff opening his fat little eyes. “Ah! pray excuse me, and believe me, had I known I was to have the honour of seeing you here, I should not have allowed myself to appear in such an unsuitable costume.” “Pooh-pooh! nonsense!” “Yes, indeed, my lord; you must permit me to go and make a little toilette.” “No ceremony, I pray!” rejoined the Baron. “After curfew, one is at least free to receive one’s friends in what costume one likes. Besides, my dear friend, there is something which requires more immediate attention.” “What is that, my lord?” “To restore Madame Magloire to her senses, who, you see, has fainted in my arms.” “Fainted! Suzanne fainted! Ah! my God!” cried the little man, putting down his candle on the chimney-piece, “how ever did such a misfortune happen?” “Wait, wait, Monsieur Magloire!” said my lord, “we must first get your wife into a more comfortable position in an armchair; nothing annoys women so much as not to be at their ease when they are unfortunate enough to faint.” “You are right, my lord; let us first put her in the armchair.... Oh Suzanne! poor Suzanne! How can such a thing as this have happened?” “I pray you at least, my dear fellow, not to think any ill of me at finding me in your house at such a time of night!” “Far from it, my lord,” replied the Bailiff, “the friendship with which you honour us, and the virtue of Madame Magloire are sufficient guarantees for me to be glad at any hour to have my house honoured by your presence.”