"Try not to be insane."
The Vicomte glared at her with a glare which, at least, was characteristic.
"Why do I not kill her--why?"
The lady only smiled.
"They say that a woman is devoid of humour. How is it then sometimes with a man? You, Philippe, are always thinking of the Porte St. Martin--I, of the Bouffes Parisiens."
The Vicomte turned to his friend.
"Victor, why do I not kill this woman?"
M. Berigny only shrugged his shoulders. Possibly because he was not ready with a more adequate reply. The lady turned to the artist.
"Monsieur, I offer you ten thousand apologies, which my husband will one day offer you himself, as becomes a gentleman of France."
The Vicomte repeated his inquiry: