"I'll bet a wager that he has left his wife in the country, in order that he may more easily lead a bachelor's life here."
"This is the usual termination to your love-matches."
"Brévannes, we have made all arrangements for a little supper this evening."
"You'll come, of course! for then we can tell you all that has been, and has not been, done in Paris during your exile."
M. de Brévannes was a man about five-and-thirty, of dark complexion, almost olive-coloured; his features, which were regular, had a singular expression of energy: his hair, his eyebrows, and his beard, were of jet-black, and gave his face an air of sternness; his manners were easy and gentlemanly; and he was dressed simply, but in the best possible taste.
After having listened to the numberless salutations with which his friends accosted him, M. de Brévannes said, laughingly,—
"Now I will try and reply, since you give me an opportunity at last, and my reply shall not be, by any means, a tedious one. I am just come from Lorraine, and I am a better husband than you give me credit for—I have brought my wife back to Paris with me."
"Perhaps Madame de Brévannes might have thought you a better husband still if you had left her in Lorraine," said the domino; "but you are too jealous to do that."
"Indeed!" replied M. de Brévannes, looking at the mask with curiosity; "I am jealous, am I?"
"As jealous as obstinate! and that's the fact."