“I thought Monsieur Chaumontel was in Switzerland—”
“Yes, but he has representatives, a lawyer—”
“Didn’t you do anything else but business?” asks Caroline, interrupting Adolphe.
Here she gives him a direct, piercing look, by which she plunges into her husband’s eyes when he least expects it: a sword in a heart.
“What could I have done? Made a little counterfeit money, run into debt, or embroidered a sampler?”
“Oh, dear, I don’t know. And I can’t even guess. I am too dull, you’ve told me so a hundred times.”
“There you go, and take an expression of endearment in bad part. How like a woman that is!”
“Have you concluded anything?” she asks, pretending to take an interest in business.
“No, nothing,”
“How many persons have you seen?”