“The truth is, my lord, we had the most perfect little supper! just you think now—cutlets of young wild-boar....”
“Very well,” said the Baron, “now you are going to tell me about your supper, instead of listening to the end of my tale, a tale which concerns the life and honour of your wife!”
“True, true, my poor Suzanne! My lord, help me to open her hands, that I may slap them on the palms.”
The Lord of Vez gave all the assistance in his power to Monsieur Magloire, and by dint of their united efforts they forced open Madame Magloire’s hands.
The good man, now easier in his mind, began slapping his wife’s palms with his chubby little hands, all the while giving his attention to the remainder of the Baron’s interesting and veracious story.
“Where had I got to?” he asked.
“You had got just to where my poor Suzanne, whom one may indeed call ‘the chaste Suzanna....’ ”
“Yes, you may well say that!” interrupted the lord of Vez.
“Indeed, I do! You had just got to where my poor Suzanne began to be aware....”
“Ah, yes—that your guest like Paris of old was wishing to make another Menelaus of you; well, then she rose from table.... You remember that she did so?”