"What! you would let me go to the theatre with another man? O Philémon!"
"But if I come and join you there, it's precisely the same thing as if I went with you! That sort of thing is done every day."
"Well, I simply shouldn't enjoy it without you."
"Don't you understand that I would come, too—later?"
"Oh! how far behind the times you are, my dear love! Luckily, I know that young man's address; he told us what it was: No. 8, Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne."
"And you mean to go to see him?"
"His cousin was my intimate friend, and he can tell me something about him. Stay! I have an idea: I'll invite him to dinner; the fellow's all right socially, so that we can afford to receive him; he isn't like that scamp Dodichet—there's a man I will never invite! That was a neat trick he played on Mirotaine. But why is this Seringat, this Pontoise druggist, in Paris under an assumed name? What can he have done with his wife? If I had time, I'd go to Pontoise and find out."
"You'd take me with you, wouldn't you?"
"Oh! there you are again! how amusing that would be! To stuff my wife in my pocket for a little trip of twenty-four hours, and double, yes, treble the expense! That would be downright idiocy. But, don't worry; I haven't the time to go to Pontoise."