"You noticed that, Philémon?"
"Oh! my dear love, don't comment in this way on every word I say, I beg you! I have noticed many other women since."
"Ah! you villain! And what about me?"
"You! why, you are my wife, and that ought to satisfy you; it seems to me that that's something to say!—To cut it short, my dear Mirotaine, I tell you again, this whole business is probably a joke invented by my friend Dodichet, who passes his time looking about for somebody to make a fool of. And so, although he's an old schoolmate of mine, I have never asked him to my house; not that I am afraid of his nonsense; I have a wife, thank God! with whom I can sleep with both eyes shut!"
"And that is just what you do, my dear; you always sleep when you're with me."
"Hush, Nonore! These domestic details are never talked about in company."
"Why not, my dear?"
"Why, because——"
Monsieur Mirotaine was as savage as a bulldog because he had given a dinner party to no purpose. Aldegonde was annoyed at being deceived by her dealer in wardrobes, who had gone away in dire confusion at having made a mess of it. The rest of the company soon followed Madame Putiphar's example; the three balloons withdrew, constantly colliding with one another; Monsieur Brid'oison, in the hat which had been left in place of his; Artaban, climbing on his father's shoulders; Madame Trichon, rubbing the eye which had received the pickled onion; and young Callé, looking longingly at Aldegonde, who did not look at him because she was angry. Juliette alone was happy, but she dared not show it.
Lastly, Dubotté and his wife took leave of the host and hostess.