“It is quite possible, monsieur; I may have desired it then; now I feel differently. Am I not at liberty to change my mind?”
“Oh! yes, indeed! absolutely at liberty.”
“This Freluchon was your intimate friend, I know, and I do not wish to deprive you of his company.”
“Oh! thanks a thousand times, my adored wife! I am deeply sensible of——”
“Don’t talk to me like that any more! Adored wife! Anyone would think we were acting a melodrama! Call me madame, and stick to that.”
“Very well, I understand, madame—madame—and I will stick to that.”
Some days after this conversation, which will give an idea of the kind of happiness which Chamoureau enjoyed since he had ceased to be a widower, he came face to face with Freluchon one morning on the boulevard.
The latter began by laughing in his former friend’s face.
“Good-day, Freluchon; what are you laughing at?”
“Parbleu! at your expression—your new rig—your new face—for you have manufactured a new face for yourself with all the rest.”