I was a little embarrassed. I dared not ask Ernest about his wife, for I was certain that Eugénie did not know that her visitor was the lover of my former neighbor. I began hastily to talk about the theatre and literature; I led Ernest to his favorite ground, and he told me all the news of the wings. But suddenly he exclaimed:
“I was very sorry not to be at home when you called the day before yesterday. My wife told me that you waited for me a long while.”
“Is monsieur married?” Eugénie instantly inquired.
Ernest replied by simply bowing. Then he continued:
“I was all the more vexed, because I had a box at the Vaudeville to give you, which perhaps would have entertained madame.”
Eugénie bowed, and I tried to lead the conversation back to the theatre; but Ernest, having no suspicion of my apprehension, soon said to me:
“Marguerite, who used to be so fond of the theatre, is beginning to tire of it; I take her so often!”
At the name of Marguerite, my wife turned pale; then she said to me with a forced smile:
“Can it be that monsieur is Monsieur Ernest?”
“Yes, this is Monsieur Ernest Firmin, whom I have mentioned to you many times.”