“Triple dyed idiot!” murmured the shoe-maker, “unless I ought rather to call him a doubly clever dissembler.... No matter which, however! we have yet to see how my lord is going to get out of it.” “Nevertheless,” continued Maître Magloire, dipping a handkerchief into some aromatic water, and bathing his wife’s temples with it, “nevertheless, I am curious to know how my poor wife can have received such a shock.” “It’s a simple affair enough, as I will explain, my dear fellow. I was returning from dining with my friend, de Vivières, and passing through Erneville on my way to Vez, I caught sight of an open window, and a woman inside making signals of distress.” “Ah! my God!” “That is what I exclaimed, when I realised that the window belonged to your house; and can it be my friend the Bailiff’s wife, I thought, who is in danger and in need of help?” “You are good indeed, my lord,” said the Bailiff quite overcome. “I trust it was nothing of the sort.” “On the contrary, my dear man.” “How! on the contrary?” “Yes, as you will see.” “You make me shudder, my lord! And do you mean that my wife was in need of help and did not call me?” “It had been her first thought to call you, but she abstained from doing so, for, and here you see her delicacy of feeling, she was afraid that if you came, your precious life might be endangered.” The Bailiff turned pale and gave an exclamation. “My precious life, as you are good enough to call it, is in danger?” “Not now, since I am here.” “But tell me, I pray, my lord, what had happened? I would question my wife, but as you see she is not yet able to answer.” “And am I not here to answer in her stead?” “Answer then, my lord, as you are kind enough to offer to do so; I am listening.” The Baron made a gesture of assent, and went on: “So I ran to her, and seeing her all trembling and alarmed, I asked, ‘What is the matter, Madame Magloire, and what is causing you so much alarm?’ ‘Ah! my lord,’ she replied, ‘just think what I feel, when I tell you that yesterday and to-day, my husband has been entertaining a man about whom I have the worst suspicions. Ugh! A man who has introduced himself under the pretence of friendship to my dear Magloire, and actually makes love to me, to me....’” “She told you that?” “Word for word, my dear fellow! She cannot hear what we are saying, I hope?” “How can she, when she is insensible?” “Well, ask her yourself when she comes to, and if she does not tell you exactly to the letter what I have been telling you, call me a Turk, an infidel and a heretic.” “Ah! these men! these men!” murmured the Bailiff. “Yes, race of vipers!” continued my lord of Vez, “do you wish me to go on?” “Yes, indeed!” said the little man, forgetting the scantiness of his attire in the interest excited in him by the Baron’s tale. “‘But Madame,’ I said to my friend Madame Magloire, ‘How could you tell that he had the audacity to love you?’”