"In that case, my dear Monsieur Dupont, you shouldn't have ordered anything but common wines; then you wouldn't have exposed me to the risk of committing crimes."
Dupont was vexed; but, to compensate himself for his disappointment, he was very careful to drink his own beaune pure, and he resorted to it frequently, to keep up his courage and his gayety. He was beginning to risk an affectionate word or two, when Georgette abruptly interposed, saying:
"Is madame your wife pretty?"
Dupont frowned, as he replied:
"Quite—but not so well built as you—far from it! Ah! if she had your enchanting figure!"
"Are her eyes black or blue?"
"They are—they are green, like a cat's."
"Oh! what a misfortune! You say that your wife has eyes like a cat's?"
"What do I care?—And your mouth is so lovely! Your smile charms me beyond words!"
"And her teeth—are they fine?"