“Excuse me, madame,” murmured he, “this is my business, and does not concern you!”
“What! it does not concern me? but I form part of your family now, sir, and do you think your affair amuses me on account of my daughter? Ah! you have given her a pretty wedding! Not another word, sir, you are deficient in tact!”
This cry closed his mouth. He was so scared, so feeble looking, with his slender limbs, and his face like a girl’s, that the ladies smiled slightly. When one had not the facilities for making a woman happy, one ought not to marry. Hortense weighed him with a disdainful glance; little Angèle, whom they had forgotten, hovered round him, with her sly air, as though she had been looking for something; and he drew back embarrassed, and blushed when he saw them all, so big and plump, hemming him in with their sturdy hips. But they felt the necessity of patching up the matter. Valérie had started off sobbing again, whilst the doctor continued to bathe her temples. Then they understood one another with a glance, a common feeling of defense drew them together. They puzzled their brains, trying to explain the letter to the husband.
“Pooh!” murmured Trublot, who had just rejoined Octave, “it is easy enough; they have only to say the letter was addressed to the servant.”
Madame Josserand heard him. She turned round and looked at him with a glance full of admiration. Then, turning toward Théophile:
“Does an innocent woman lower herself to give explanations, when accused with such brutality? Still, I may speak. The letter was dropped by Françoise, that maid whom your wife had to pack off on account of her bad conduct. There, are you satisfied? do you not blush with shame?”
At first the husband shrugged his shoulders. But the ladies all remained serious, answering his objections with very strong reasoning. He was shaken, when, to complete his discomfiture, Madame Duveyrier got angry, telling him that his conduct had been abominable, and that she disowned him. Then, vanquished, and feeling a longing to be kissed, he threw his arms round Valérie’s neck, and begged her pardon. It was most touching. Even Madame Josserand was deeply affected.
“It is always best to come to an understanding,” said she, with relief. “The day will not end so badly, after all.”
When they had dressed Valérie again, and she appeared in the ball-room on Theophile’s arm, the joy seemed to be redoubled. It was close upon three o’clock, the guests were beginning to leave; but the orchestra continued to get through the quadrilles with great gusto. Some of the men smiled behind the backs of the reconciled couple. A medical remark of Campardon’s, respecting that poor Théophile, quite delighted Madame Juzeur. The young girls hastened to stare at Valérie; then they put on their stupid looks before their mothers’ scandalized glances. Berthe, who was at length dancing with her husband, must have whispered a word or two in his ear; for Auguste, made aware of what had been taking place, turned his head round, and, without getting out of step, looked at his brother Théophile with the surprise and the superiority of a man to whom such things cannot happen. There was a final galop, the guests were getting more free in the stifling heat and the reddish light of the candles, the vacillating flames of which caused the pendants of the chandeliers to sparkle.
“You are very intimate with her?” asked Madame Hédouin, as she whirled round on Octave’s arm, having accepted his invitation to dance.