“Good morning, Bunny! I got up so late this morning, and I have a thousand things to do before going out, but I couldn’t go without seeing my darling little Rabbit.... Give me another kiss, and I’m off!”
Smiling humbly, with an air of submissive gratitude like that of a faithful dog, the Marquis allowed himself to be petted. Elena finally tore herself away, but before she had quite reached the library door she suddenly remembered something important and stopped short.
The Marquis’ smile vanished. His eyes put the question:
“How much do you want?”
“Oh, not so much. About eight thousand francs.”
Elena’s tailor, one on the Rue de la Paix, needless to say, had suddenly stopped being as respectful as Elena thought he should be—his bill was only three years old!—and he had threatened court proceedings.
At her husband’s gesture when she mentioned this sum, Elena’s childlike smile vanished; but she still used her little girl’s lisp to complain.
“You say that you love me, Federico, and you refuse to give me this little bit of money....”
“There are some of the letters and claims of our creditors....” The Marquis pointed to the heap on the table.