"What! have you just come home?" she asked Robineau, who was trying vainly to put his key in the lock.
"Yes, my dear love, the party is just done."
"The party! why, it’s been daylight a long while; it’s after six o’clock.—Well! what makes you fumble at your door like that?"
"I don’t know what’s got into my key, Fifine, but it simply won’t go into the lock."
"Give it to me; I’ll find a way to unlock it."
Fifine opened the door, and exclaimed, after looking at Robineau more attentively:
"Mon Dieu! what a face! Your eyes are coming out of your head!"
"I don’t know what’s the matter with me, my dear; but this much is certain, that I don’t feel very well."
"Oh! I see well enough what the matter is; it seems to me that you have been having a good bout!"
Robineau had thrown himself into a chair, and was sighing piteously. Fifine followed him and stood gazing at him with a scornful shrug. At last, finding that he said nothing, but continued to sigh, she exclaimed: