I promised my friends to go often to see them. I had not yet made up my mind what I would do; but I still intended to travel, to leave Paris, especially since I knew that Madame Blémont had returned.
My concierge informed me that a gentleman had called to see me for the third time. From the description that he gave me I could not doubt that it was Bélan, and I ordered the man always to tell him that I was out. He also handed me a card upon which was the name of Giraud. Would those people never leave me to myself? Unluckily my business had made it necessary for me to leave my address at my former apartment; but I determined to settle all the cases which had been placed in my hands with all possible speed, in order that I might leave Paris as soon as possible.
I spent a part of every day going about to my former clients, to whom I restored their papers, on the pretext that my health compelled me to abandon my profession. In my peregrinations I occasionally saw Bélan or Giraud, but I always succeeded in avoiding them. I had just finished my last business. I felt free once more, and was congratulating myself upon being able to follow my inclinations, when, as I walked rapidly through the Palais-Royal, I was stopped by Bélan. That time I had no opportunity to avoid him.
“Ah! I have caught you at last! Upon my word, I am in luck; where in the devil have you been hiding, my dear friend? I have been to your apartment a great many times, but you are always out.”
“I have many matters to arrange, my dear Bélan, and at this moment I am in a great hurry.”
“I don’t care for that, I don’t propose to let you go; I have too many things to tell you. But I say, have you left your wife?”
“Yes, we could not agree.”
“That is what I said at once: ‘They did not agree.’ I admit that you are generally blamed; you are looked upon as a jealous husband, a domestic tyrant.”
“People may say what they choose; it is quite indifferent to me.”
“And you are right. As for myself, if I only could separate from my mother-in-law! Great heaven! how happy I would be! But Armide refuses to leave her mother, and the result is that I am constantly between two fires: when one is not picking a quarrel with me, the other is. To be sure, I am perfectly at ease now concerning my wife’s fidelity. The marquis no longer comes to see us; I don’t know why, but he has entirely ceased his visits. As for Armide, she has become so crabbed, so sour; mon Dieu! there are times when I think that I should prefer to be a cuckold, and to have my wife amiable; and yet——”