She always came over to him, smiling, well aware that Souris was to be the subject of the chat, and anxious to gratify her second husband's harmless fad.
"I say! do you remember how Souris wanted, one day, to prove to me that small men are always better loved than big men?"
And he launched out into reflections unfavorable to the defunct husband, who was small, and discreetly complimentary to himself, as he happened to be tall.
And Mme. Leuillet let him think that he was quite right; and she laughed very heartily, turned the first husband into ridicule in a playful fashion for the amusement of his successor, who always ended by remarking:
"Never mind! Souris was a muff!"
They were happy, quite happy. And Leuillet never ceased to testify his unabated attachment to his wife by all the usual manifestations.
Now, one night when they happened to be both kept awake by the renewal of youthful ardor, Leuillet, who held his wife clasped tightly in his arms, and had his lips glued to hers, said:
"Tell me this, darling."
"What?"
"Souris—'tisn't easy to put the question—was he very—very amorous?"