“A love-affair, eh?”
“Yes, at least—I will tell you. It is not exactly a love-affair, because, as for me, I do not care to come in at the tail end of a love-affair. It is a caprice. A pretty little woman, however. Why, only the day before yesterday I received a letter. I did not want to go, but there were so many comes and I expect yous and my friends and dear friends, that I allowed myself to be tempted.” So saying, he drew out the letter with a grimace of lordly pride.
The merchant takes it, opens it, and reads.
“By the gods! my wife!” and without another word he leaves his friend, runs home, packs his valise, and hurries to the station.
When I entered the room the man had just shown the letter to everybody present, and had spread on the table, so that every one could see them, his certificate of baptism, his marriage articles, and other papers which he had brought along in case his wife might not wish to recognize him.
“What are you going to do?” we all asked with one voice.
“I shall not do her any harm. I have made up my mind: there will be no bloodshed, but there will be a punishment even more terrible.”
“But what will that be?” demanded one of his auditors.
“I have made up my mind,” replied the Frenchman with profoundest gravity, and, taking from his pocket a pair of enormous scissors, he added solemnly, “I am going to cut off her hair and her eyebrows!”
We all burst into a shout of laughter.