smiles at you and says, 'My old dear, you don't
know how nice you are! I am not like other women, I suppose, who go
crazy over mere boys with goats' beards, smelling of smoke, and as
coarse as serving-men! For in their youth they are so insolent!--They
come in and they bid you good-morning, and out they go.--I, whom you
think such a flirt, I prefer a man of fifty to these brats. A man who
will stick by me, who is devoted, who knows a woman is not to be picked
up every day, and appreciates us.--That is what I love you for, you
old monster!'--and they fill up these avowals with little pettings and
prettinesses and--Faugh! they are as false as the bills on the Hotel de
Ville."

"A lie is sometimes better than the truth," said Hulot, remembering
sundry bewitching scenes called up by Crevel, who mimicked Valerie.
"They are obliged to act upon their lies, to sew spangles on their stage
frocks--"

"And they are ours, after all, the lying jades!" said Crevel coarsely.

"Valerie is a witch," said the Baron. "She can turn an old man into a
young one."

"Oh, yes!" said Crevel, "she is an eel that wriggles through your
hands; but the prettiest eel, as white and sweet as sugar, as amusing as
Arnal--and ingenious!"

"Yes, she is full of fun," said Hulot, who had now quite forgotten his
wife.

The colleagues went to bed the best friends in the world, reminding each
other of Valerie's perfections, the tones of her voice, her kittenish
way, her movements, her fun, her sallies of wit, and of affections; for
she was an artist in love, and had charming impulses, as tenors may sing
a scena better one day than another. And they fell asleep, cradled in
tempting and diabolical visions lighted by the fires of hell.

At nine o'clock next morning Hulot went off to the War Office, Crevel
had business out of town; they left the house together, and Crevel held
out his hand to the Baron, saying:

"To show that there is no ill-feeling. For we, neither of us, will have
anything more to say to Madame Marneffe?"

"Oh, this is the end of everything," replied Hulot with a sort of
horror.

By half-past ten Crevel was mounting the stairs, four at a time, up to
Madame Marneffe's apartment. He found the infamous wretch, the adorable
enchantress, in the most becoming morning wrapper, enjoying an elegant
little breakfast in the society of the Baron Montes de Montejanos and
Lisbeth. Though the sight of the Brazilian gave him a shock, Crevel
beg