Lady B. (laughing).—“Really! He must have a pretty milliner’s bill to pay at the end of the year! Ha! ha! ha! There now, positively, I have broken my needle. Lend me another, dear, will you?”
La Comtesse (giving her a needle).—“There is one.”
Lady B.—“Thank you! Oh! what a lovely marquise you have on. Those diamonds are magnificent; I never saw you wear it before.”
La Comtesse.—“No, it is one of the Count’s last follies. I must tell you that yesterday I had a little shopping to do at the Louvre. The Count proposed to accompany me. I accepted with joy, and we set off. But just as we arrived at the door of the shops his heart failed him, he hesitated. ‘After all, my dear,’ he said to me, ‘I will not go in, I will come and fetch you. Do you think you will be long getting what you want?’ ‘I don’t know, two hours perhaps; what are you going to do all that while?’ ‘Don’t trouble about me, I shall be here at five o’clock exactly ... do not keep me waiting.’ A rendez-vous with my husband is something sacred; I have never yet kept him waiting. Men always hate to be kept waiting, military men especially, it makes them horribly ill-tempered. So at five o’clock I came out and found my gallant husband at the door. ‘Where have you been?’ I asked him. ‘Oh, I have been strolling about dear.’ He looked a little bit mysterious; I immediately guessed that he had been up to mischief. Between you and me, men are not very clever you know in hiding their secrets. The Count betrays his like a child. His eyes publish them immediately: you can read there as in an open book. He did not attempt to defend himself long. Monsieur had been strolling in the galleries of the Palais Royal and had bought me the ring that you see: the diamonds are worth at least a hundred pounds. Now I ask you, my dear Lady B., if after that one dare trust one’s husband out of sight an instant?... It did not prevent his having a good kiss when he reached home though, I can assure you. Heaven knows how near I was to giving it to him in the Place du Palais Royal.”
Lady B.—“How delightful it is to hear you talk like that; it does one good (looking at her embroidery). This cap is horrible ... just do look at that blue and green: ... do they not clash?”
La Comtesse.—“Take my advice, and put it aside. Embroider a cigar-case for Lord B. I did a beauty for the Count: his initials and coronet in dark blue on a pearl grey ground....”
Lady B.—“That is a good idea.—(Drawing nearer the Countess.)—Has the Count ever taken you to a cabinet particulier?”
La Comtesse.—“Many times.”
Lady B.—“Lord B. says a man cannot take his wife to a cabinet particulier.”
La Comtesse.—“My dear, you are not forced to exhibit your marriage certificate to the waiter. The Count considers that a lady can go anywhere with her husband, and, for my part, I don’t see why all the nice places should be reserved for certain characters, and the honest women have to content themselves with the Bouillons-Duval. Those are my ideas, you know.”