But Philémon was already at some distance; delighted to be rid of his wife, he had fairly taken to his heels. The loving Éléonore heaved a profound sigh, and decided at last to take the arm which young Callé offered her. They walked away, the little woman still sighing, her escort cudgelling his brain to think of something to say to console her.
"If madame thinks that we are walking too fast," he faltered at last, "we can walk more slowly."
"Oh! this is all right, monsieur."
And they walked on in silence. In a moment, the little woman, who was rather fond of talking, opened the conversation.
"You are not married, are you, monsieur?"
"No, madame; I am a bachelor."
"When you are married, shall you send your wife home under the escort of some acquaintance?"
"Mon Dieu! madame, I must confess that I don't know what I shall do."
"Shall you be displeased if your wife always wants to go out with you?"
"Oh! I think not, madame."