The superb Herminie's husband was a little man, of middle age, neither handsome nor ugly, with a very red, babyish face, round eyes, wide open and prominent, red lips always wreathed in smiles; in a word, what might be called a happy face; and happy he was to the last degree.

When he saw young Vermoncey enter his office, Monsieur Plays's face assumed a curious expression; it was evident that he was embarrassed, and did not know how he ought to receive his visitor. This reception in no wise surprised Albert, for he knew that Monsieur Plays adapted his ideas to his wife's on every subject; one was sure of a cordial welcome from the husband, so long as he was in madame's good books; but as soon as she looked coldly on anyone, or had trouble with one of her adorers, the dear husband dared not be friendly to the person from whom madame had withdrawn her favor. And as Monsieur Plays was one of those men who would like to be on good terms with the whole world, his wife's caprices sometimes caused him very great embarrassment.

"Madame Plays has been giving me a horrible name to her husband," thought Albert, noticing the stiff manner in which the merchant greeted him. And, determined to divert himself with the embarrassment of the unfortunate husband who turned a cold shoulder to the young men who ceased to pay court to his wife, he went up to Monsieur Plays, grasped his hand just as he was about to withdraw it, and shook it violently.

"Good-morning, my dear Monsieur Plays!" he cried. "I am delighted to find you. I have been meaning for a long time to come to see you. But time passes so quickly! This is the first moment I have been able to find for a week."

Monsieur Plays did not know what reply to make; he bowed, took his pen out of his mouth and put it back again, glanced timidly about the room, as if he feared that his wife would appear, and stammered at last:

"Monsieur Albert—certainly—very well—and you—— You are very kind. But, you see, I am working just now—I am doing something——"

Albert pretended not to understand the lack of cordiality in that reply; he threw himself into an easy-chair, and continued:

"And the pleasures, Monsieur Plays, how do the pleasures, the little love affairs, come on, eh? Aha! it seems that you're a great lover of the sex, but you keep it dark! Oh! you have made many conquests, they say; I've heard of you in the foyer at the OpÉra—yes, and in the wings too."

The merchant, who was highly flattered to be looked upon as a rake, smiled and rubbed his hands as he replied:

"No, really! you have heard of me at the OpÉra?—and in the wings? But I have never been there; Madame Plays wouldn't allow it."

"I believe you, and she is right. But one may know some of these theatrical ladies without going there."

"No, no, I assure you! But, wait; I believe that a lady did ask me one day to pay a draft that had fifteen days to run, on the plea that she had to take a little journey; but I believe she told me she was a marcheuse."[L]

"You see! you acknowledge the corn, rake that you are!"

"What? Why, it never occurred to me that that lady was on the stage. She said she was a marcheuse, and I understood that she liked to take long walks."

"Oh! you joker! play the innocent, if you will; but you know perfectly well that that's what they call the supernumeraries at the OpÉra."

"I give you my word that I had no idea of it. What do you say? there are marcheuses there?"

"Yes, monsieur; and they are a very popular class of lorettes."

"Then there ought to be trotteuses[M] there, too."

"Ha! ha! you're a sad rascal, Monsieur Plays! And the best part of it is that you conceal your game so perfectly."

Monsieur Plays roared with laughter; he was overjoyed to have discounted a draft for a lady connected with the stage, who had mentioned him in the wings. But he suddenly remembered that his wife had told him that she would not receive Albert any more, that he was an exceedingly ill-bred young man, who had been shockingly rude to her in society; whereupon the poor husband became sober, repented of having laughed, and muttered, with a piteous glance at Albert:

"I don't know why I am laughing, for I have a great deal to do. I have some accounts to look over, and I am away behind. I have an endless amount of work on hand."

Before the young man could reply, a small door leading from the office to the private apartments was suddenly thrown open, and Madame Plays appeared.

The robust Herminie was in morning dress, but there was always something piquant, something seductive, in her costume as well as in her eyes. A figured dress, very high in the neck, entirely concealed her charms, but outlined them with an exactitude which produced a rather more startling effect than nudity; two globes, possibly a little large, but very well placed, proudly embellished her ample chest; a tightly laced waist and very pronounced hips served as a pedestal to that bust; and her somewhat dishevelled hair, with long corkscrew curls falling over her shoulders, formed an attractive setting for Madame Plays's face, to which her excitement and her angry glance, as she entered her husband's office, gave much animation.

Herminie manifested no surprise when she saw Albert; it was evident that she expected to find him there, but she hurled a glance at him with which she apparently hoped to strike him to the earth. The young man withstood that awful glance as coolly as if he were provided with a lightning rod, and answered it with a low bow, while a faint smile lurked about the corners of his mouth.

Monsieur Plays was terrified when his wife appeared; he thought that she had heard him laughing with Albert, and he saw that she was angry; so he could not decide what to do, and, in his embarrassment, chewed his pen instead of simply holding it in his mouth.

"Ah! you have company, monsieur?" said Herminie, biting off her words, and looking from Albert to her husband; "I am sorry to interrupt your conversation, messieurs. Doubtless you have some very interesting things to say to each other. If I had dreamed that Monsieur Vermoncey was here, be sure that I should not have come."

"My dear love—we were saying—I don't know what. I didn't expect a visit from——"

"I called upon you first, madame," Albert interposed; "but I was told that you had the vapors, that I could not see you; so I came to ask your husband about your health, as I was anxious about it."

"Yes," murmured Monsieur Plays, spitting out a piece of his pen, "yes, Monsieur Albert came to——"

"Ah! so you are anxious about my health, monsieur! That is a surprise; I should never have guessed it. Ha! ha! admirable! You amuse yourself at a person's expense, you play a trick upon her—a shameful, outrageous jest of a sort you wouldn't dare try with a grisette—and then, a week afterward, you come here as if nothing had happened, with a cool, placid air! Oh! it makes me ill, it sets my nerves on edge; I would like to smash something!"

All this was emitted with remarkable volubility by the superb Herminie, as she paced the floor in intense excitement. Her husband drew back when she talked of smashing something, and faltered:

"I was busy working, going over my accounts, and——"

"All right, monsieur, all right! I don't ask you what you were doing. Well! what are you eating now? what's that you are twisting about between your teeth? Have you taken to chewing tobacco? that would be the last straw!"

"No, my dear love; I was just sucking my pen—for amusement."

"That's an odd stick of candy," said Albert, laughing.

Even Herminie could not restrain a smile; but she instantly resumed her wrathful expression, and turned her back to her husband to speak to Albert:

"I shall never forget that abominable letter! I would never have believed, monsieur, that you would write such things! It was in the vilest taste!"

"On my honor, madame, I do not know what you mean; I am not aware of having written a single word that could offend you."

"Oh! this is too much! to make such a statement as that! I am terribly sorry that I destroyed the insolent letter, but I know it by heart."

Monsieur Plays had returned to his desk, and was mumbling between his teeth:

"Five and six are eleven, and eight makes nineteen—and eight makes nineteen——"

"And then, it was so idiotic: 'your face is constantly before me, calf's head en tortue,'—isn't that very refined?—and—'I send you an intimate friend—perfectly fresh.'—Ah! your friend was fresh, and no mistake! Such a little fool! and how I treated him!"

"What you say perplexes me entirely. I cannot understand it. There must be some mistake—you must have read some other letter."

"Oh, no! it was addressed to me all right!"

"Nineteen and twenty-four make forty-three; put down three and carry—and carry——"

"Be quiet, Monsieur Plays; you are insufferable with your addition! What do I care what you carry? Hold your tongue!"

Monsieur Plays subsided, with an air of consternation, nor did Albert say anything more; but he produced the lovely bouquet, which he had thus far held behind his back.

When Herminie saw it, her face softened, and it retained only a slight pouting expression as she said:

"Ah! you have a bouquet."

"Yes, madame; I intended to offer it to you when I called, but I was not fortunate enough to be admitted."

"It is very pretty."

Monsieur Plays walked timidly to Albert's side, and murmured:

"Your bouquet is charming; I was saying to myself: 'It smells very sweet here, and it can't be me.'"

"Will you condescend to accept it, madame?"

"I ought not to, for I am sure that it wasn't intended for me; but I am so fond of flowers! Well, give it to me."

She took the bouquet and held it to her nose.

"It is very sweet," she said; "it perfumes the whole room. But, no matter; I detest you, I will never forgive you while I live, I forbid you to come to my house any more."

"Oh! madame, the idea of bearing malice to such an extent as that! and for what? for a misunderstanding, a blunder perhaps, but in which you surely cannot believe that there was any intention to offend you. No, you will not be so cruel—you will allow me to continue to call upon you."

Herminie played with her bouquet without replying, but Monsieur Plays said smilingly to Albert, in an undertone:

"She'll allow you to; I am sure that she doesn't bear you any ill will now."

"Why do you interfere, Monsieur Plays? I don't know what you mean by meddling in my affairs! Keep quiet, I tell you again; this doesn't concern you!"

Monsieur Plays set about cutting a quill.

"Besides, I don't like people who have so many whims," continued Herminie, after a short pause. "If you pass a week without thinking of a person, why shouldn't you pass months? To what motive do I owe monsieur's call to-day?"

"I had a motive, madame," Albert replied, with a smile; "I have heard a great deal of a cashmere shawl which you wore at Count Dahlborne's reception; it is a marvel of beauty, it seems, and I have heard it extolled so highly that I am very desirous to see it. Will you not be kind enough to show it to me?"

Herminie thought that Albert resorted to that pretext in order not to make her husband jealous; for she was far from suspecting that the shawl was really what had brought her fickle lover back to her. The idea amused her, and she replied, with a laugh:

"Oho! so you came to see my cashmere! Well! I won't show it to you; if I did, I should have to admit you to my boudoir, and I have sworn that you shall never put your foot there again."

"But we swear so many things! A pretty woman's oaths are written on sand, and the slightest breath effaces them."

"And what are men's oaths written on?"

"On brass.—Isn't it true, Monsieur Plays, that we men keep to our oaths?"

"Why, yes; such things have been known. I myself, for instance, swore that I would stop taking snuff when I married Madame Plays, because she doesn't like to hear people sneeze: well, I have kept my oath; to be sure, I still sneeze, but not so often."

While Monsieur Plays indulged in this reflection, his wife looked fixedly at Albert, and there was in her eyes an animation, a flame, which indicated something very different from anger. On his side, the young man bestowed a very tender glance on her, and said:

"Come, don't be cross with me any more, but promise to show it to me."

"No; I should have to admit you to my boudoir."

"I am so anxious to see it."

"Indeed! you want to see it, do you?" said Herminie, with a sly smile.

Monsieur Plays moved about on his chair, saying:

"Come, my dear love, as it will give him pleasure, do show it to him. Bless my soul, how good that bouquet smells!"

Herminie was touched; she smiled at the young man in a very significant way, and held out her hand to him.

"Oh! I am too weak," she cried; "you abuse my weakness—ah! Dieu! Well, give me your hand and escort me to my apartment. But I won't show it to you, I tell you!"

Albert took the hand that Madame Plays offered him, and, with a bow to her husband, left the room with her by the little door.

Monsieur Plays seemed overjoyed, and whispered in Albert's ear as he passed:

"I know her; I promise you that she'll show it to you."