Then, the husband, ghastly pale, and drawing himself up on his short legs, to override the ridiculous, came to what he called the wretched woman’s bad behavior. Twice he had suspected her; but he was too honorable; he could not retain such an idea in his head. This time, though, he was obliged to yield to evidence. It was not possible to doubt, was it? And, with his trembling fingers, he felt the pocket of his waistcoat which contained the letter.
“If she did it for money, I might understand it,” added he. “But they never gave her any; I am sure of that; I should know it. Then, tell me what it can be that she has in her skin? I am very nice myself; she has everything at home. I cannot understand it. If you can understand it, sir, explain it to me, I beg of you.”
“It is very curious, very curious,” repeated Octave, embarrassed by all these disclosures, and trying to make his escape.
But the husband, in a state of fever, and tormented by a want of certitude, would not let him go. At this moment, Madame Juzeur, reappearing, went and whispered a word to Madame Josserand, who was greeting the arrival of a big jeweler of the Palais-Royal with a grand curtesy; and she, quite upset, hastened to follow her.
“I think that your wife has a very violent attack,” observed Octave to Théophile.
“Never mind her!” replied the latter in a fury, vexed at not being ill, so as to be coddled up also; “she is only to pleased to have an attack! It always puts every one on her side. My health is no better than hers, yet I have never deceived her!”
Madame Josserand did not return. The rumor circulated among the intimate friends that Valérie was struggling in frightful convulsions. There should have been men present to hold her down; but, as they had been obliged to half undress her, they declined Trublot’s and Gueulin’s offers of assistance.
“Doctor Juillerat! where is Doctor Juillerat?” asked Madame Josserand, rushing back into the room.
The doctor had been invited, but no one had as yet seen him. Then she no longer strove to hide the slumbering rage which had been collecting within her since the morning. She spoke out before Octave and Campardon, without mincing her words.
“I am beginning to have enough of it. It is not very pleasant for my daughter, all this cuckoldom paraded before us!”