He began to undress himself methodically, as he did everything, and took from a chair his overcoat, which he was in the habit of hanging up in the hall. But suddenly he remained motionless, struck dumb with astonishment—there was a red ribbon in the buttonhole:
“Why,” he stammered, “this—this—this overcoat has got the ribbon in it!”
In a second, his wife threw herself on him, and, taking it from his hands, she said:
“No! you have made a mistake—give it to me.”
But he still held it by one of the sleeves, without letting it go, repeating in a half-dazed manner:
“Oh! Why? Just explain—Whose overcoat is it? It is not mine, as it has the Legion of Honor on it.”
She tried to take it from him, terrified and hardly able to say:
“Listen—listen! Give it to me! I must not tell you! It is a secret. Listen to me!”
But he grew angry and turned pale.
“I want to know how this overcoat comes to be here? It does not belong to me.”