"My dear Bertha, I have changed my mind. You are my wife, and I expect you to come with me to-day. You have, I think, improved both morally and physically, and I am going to take you back again. I am your husband, and it is my right to do so." She was stupefied, and looked at him, trying to divine his thoughts; but his face was resolute and impenetrable. "I am very sorry," she said, "but I have made other engagements." "So much the worse for you," was his reply. "The law gives me the power, and I mean to use it." They were getting to Marseilles, and the train whistled and slackened speed. The Baroness got up, carefully rolled up her wraps, and then turning to her husband, she said: "My dear Raymond, do not make a bad use of the _tete-a-tete_ which I had carefully prepared. I wished to take precautions, according to your advice, so that I might have nothing to fear from you or from other people, whatever might happen. You are going to Nice, are you not?" "I shall go wherever you go." "Not at all; just listen to me, and I am sure that you will leave me in peace. In a few moments, when we get to the station, you will see the Princess de Raynes and Countess Hermit waiting for me with their husbands. I wished them to see us, and to know that we had spent the night together in the railway-carriage. Don't be alarmed; they will tell it everywhere as a most surprising fact. "I told you just now that I had most carefully followed your advice and saved appearances. Anything else does not matter, does it? Well, in order to do so, I wished to be seen with you. You told me carefully to avoid any scandal, and I am avoiding it, for, I am afraid--I am afraid--" She waited till the train had quite stopped, and as her friends ran up to open the carriage-door, she said: "I am afraid that I am in the family-way." The Princess stretched out her arms to embrace her, and the Baroness said, pointing to the Baron, who was dumb with astonishment, and was trying to get at the truth: "You do not recognize Raymond? He has certainly changed a good deal, and he agreed to come with me so that I might not travel alone. We take little trips like this, occasionally, like good friends who cannot live together. We are going to separate here; he has had enough of me already." She put out her hand, which he took mechanically, and then she jumped out on to the platform among her friends, who were waiting for her. The Baron hastily shut the carriage-door, for he was too much disturbed to say a word or come to any determination. He heard his wife's voice, and their merry laughter as they went away. He never saw her again, nor did he ever discover whether she had told him a lie or was speaking the truth. THE LITTLE CASK Jules Chicot, the innkeeper, who lived at Epreville, pulled up his tilbury in front of Mother Magloire's farmhouse. He was a tall man of about forty, with a red face and a round stomach, and was generally said to be _a very knowing customer_.