Monsieur—You forgot! you forgot!
Madame—Well, it is all for the best; I know you would have been sulky all the week after. Come to dinner.
They sat down to table. The cloth was white, the cutlery bright, the oysters fresh; the partridge, cooked to perfection, exhaled a delightful odor. Madame was charming, and laughed at everything. Monsieur unbent his brows and stretched himself on the chair.
Monsieur—This Pomard is very good. Won't you have some, little dear?
Madame—Yes, your little dear will. (She pushes forward her glass with a coquettish movement.)
Monsieur—Ah! you have put on your Louis Seize ring. It is a very pretty ring.
Madame—(putting her hand under her husband's nose)—Yes; but look—see, there is a little bit coming off.
Monsieur—(kissing his wife's hand)—Where is the little bit?
Madame—(smiling)—You jest at everything. I am speaking seriously. There—look—it is plain enough! (They draw near once another and bend their heads together to see it.) Don't you see it? (She points out a spot on the ring with a rosy and slender finger.) There! do you see now —there?
Monsieur—That little pearl which—What on earth have you been putting on your hair, my dear? It smells very nice—You must send it to the jeweller. The scent is exquisite. Curls don't become you badly.