“Papa, suppose we should play Pourceaugnac?”
“Hold your tongue, my child; you tire me!”
“Dear me, Eolinde!” said Madame Glumeau with a sigh, “why should we play Pourceaugnac on our little stage; we play it often enough in our family, as well as Le Malade Imaginaire!”
Monsieur Glumeau was about to reply to his wife when the bell rang.
“Company! company already!” cried stout Lolotte, “and I haven’t finished dressing!”
“And my enema, madame! I must have it!” said her husband in an altered voice.
“No doubt it’s my brother,” replied tall Eolinde in her turn; “it isn’t worth while to put ourselves in such a flurry for him!”
XI
THE ELUSIVE REMEDY
But the salon door opened, and Monsieur Dufournelle and his wife appeared.
Monsieur Dufournelle was a stout party of forty-five, with a jovial face which denoted a frank and hearty disposition. His wife, who was hardly thirty, was pretty, had a good figure, and laughed all the time; it is needless to say that she had fine teeth; if they had been ugly she would not have laughed on all occasions.