"It's too much for me, my dear friend. I feel that I am no longer of any account on earth, bereft of my Eléonore!"
Freluchon seized the tongs and began to stir the fire, saying:
"Chamoureau, do you remember the trick she played on an old lady one day?"
"Ah, yes! at Saint-Cloud!"
"At Saint-Cloud, just so; it was at a restaurant, one very hot day in summer."
"Yes, yes; there was only one small salon with two tables vacant."
"That's right. Eléonore—I mean your wife——"
"Mon Dieu! that makes no difference, it wasn't worth while to correct yourself. You were intimate enough with us to call her Eléonore.—Go on."
"When we entered the small salon, your wife noticed the grimace and the disdainful expression which our appearance called forth from an old lady covered with jewels and laces, who occupied the other table."
"Yes, yes, she noticed everything, Eléonore did! What an eye!—Go on."