The child was comforted by contact with his mother's warm body. He could be heard sucking her milk and gurgling and snorting. Jean Michel turned in his chair, and said once more, with some emphasis:
"There's nothing finer than an honest man."
He was silent for a moment, pondering whether it would not be proper to elaborate this thought; but he found nothing more to say, and after a silence he said irritably:
"Why isn't your husband here?"
"I think he is at the theater," said Louisa timidly. "There is a rehearsal."
"The theater is closed. I passed it just now. One of his lies."
"No. Don't be always blaming him. I must have misunderstood. He must have been kept for one of his lessons."
"He ought to have come back," said the old man, not satisfied. He stopped for a moment, and then asked, in a rather lower voice and with some shame:
"Has he been … again?"
"No, father—no, father," said Louisa hurriedly.