“It cannot be managed so,” she replied; “the danger is too great; for monseigneur is a very light sleeper, and he never wakes but what he feels for me, and if he did not find me, you may guess what it would be.”
“And when he does find you,” he said, “what does he do to you?”
“Nothing else,” she replied; “he turns over on the other side.”
“Faith!” said he, “he is a very bad bed-fellow; it is very lucky for you that I came to your aid to perform for you what he cannot.”
“So help me God,” she said, “when he lies with me once a month it is the best he can do. I may be difficult to please, but I could take a good deal more than that.
“That is not to be wondered at,” he said; “but let us consider what we shall do.”
“There is no way that I see,” she replied, “that it can be managed.”
“What?” he said; “have you no woman in the house to whom you can explain the difficulty?”
“Yes, by God! I have one,” she said, “in whom I have such confidence that I would tell her anything in the world I wanted kept secret? without fearing that she would ever repeat it.”
“What more do we want then?” he said. “The rest concerns you and her.”