“The deuce! what do you say? That little woman——”
“Is Monsieur Firmin’s mistress.”
“I was told that she was his wife.”
“And she is his wife,” I said, with an angry glance at Eugénie. But she continued in an ironical tone:
“No, Monsieur Bélan, that little woman, whom you are kind enough to call pretty, is not Monsieur Firmin’s wife; and monsieur knows that better than anyone, although he tells you the contrary.”
“What? Do you mean that——”
I did not listen to what Bélan said; I turned my back upon Eugénie. I did not believe that she was spiteful, but what she had just done disgusted me. At that moment I believe that I detested her.
The dancing continued, but many people had gone. I walked about the studio. It seemed to me that I heard several people whispering to one another, and at the same time pointing at Madame Ernest. Bélan was quite capable of having gone about to tell all his acquaintances what my wife had told him. Poor Marguerite! she was pretty, so they were overjoyed to calumniate her. They would have been more indulgent if she had been ugly.
There was to be but one more quadrille. The orchestra gave the signal. Madame Ernest had a partner, who led her to a place opposite my wife. I saw that Eugénie instantly led her partner away and took her place elsewhere. Thereupon Madame Ernest’s partner led her to a place opposite Madame Bélan. Tall Armide did as my wife had done; she turned on her heel and returned to her seat, crying in quite a loud tone:
“I prefer not to dance.”