“Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! Armide is dying! We must carry her to her bed.”
Instantly there was a general uprising. The aunt who was at my side thrust her elbow in my face in her attempt to rise quickly in order to go to the assistance of her niece, who thereupon concluded that she had best be ill altogether. While they were taking Armide to her room, and Bélan was running hither and thither like a madman, I went to my wife, took her hand and led her to the door, saying:
“This is quite enough for one morning.”
Bélan overtook us on the stairs, and called out to us:
“What! going already? Why, my wife will come to herself in a minute; I am not worried about her health; my mother-in-law is forever telling her that she is going to die, when she has no idea of doing anything of the kind.”
“We have an engagement.”
“Until this evening, then.”
“The ball is not to be at your mother-in-law’s, is it?”
“No, at Lointier’s. It will be magnificent.”
“We will be there.”