rtable. Good-night, dear, let us go to sleep."

"Good-night, my dear."

After a long silence Monsieur turns first on one side and then on the
other, and ends by tapping lightly on his wife's shoulder.

Madame, startled, "What is the matter? Good heavens! how you startled
me!"

Monsieur, smiling, "Would you be kind enough to put out the candle?"

"What! is it for that you wake me up in the middle of my sleep? I shall
not be able to doze again. You are unbearable."

"You find me unbearable?" He comes quite close to his wife; "Come, let me
explain my idea to you."

Madame turns round--her eye meets the eye . . . full of softness . . of
her husband. "Dear me," she says, "you are a perfect tiger."

Then, putting her mouth to his ear, she murmurs with a smile, "Come,
explain your idea, for the sake of peace and quiet."

Madame, after a very long silence, and half asleep, "Oscar!"

Monsieur, his eyes closed, in a faint voice, "My dear."

"How about the candle? it is still alight."

"Ah! the candle. I will put it out. If you were very nice you would give
me a share of your hot-water bottle; one of my feet is frozen.
Good-night."

"Good-night."

They clasp hands and fall asleep.

CHAPTER XXI

A LONGING

MONSIEUR and MADAME are quietly sitting together--The clock has just
struck ten--MONSIEUR is in his dressing-gown and slippers, is
leaning back in an armchair and reading the newspaper--MADAME is
carelessly working squares of laces.

Madame--Such things have taken place, have they not, dear?

Monsieur--(without raising his eyes)--Yes, my dear.

Madame--There, well I should never have believed it. But they are
monstrous, are they not?

Monsieur--(without raising his eyes)--Yes, my dear.

Madame--Well, and yet, see how strange it is, Louise acknowledged it to
me last month, you know; the evening she called for me to go to the
perpetual Adoration, and our hour of adoration, as it turned out, by the
way, was from six to seven; impossible, too, to change our turn; none of
the ladies caring to adore during dinner-time, as is natural enough. Good
heavens, what a rage we were in! How good God must be to have forgiven
you. Do you remember?

Monsieur--(continuing to read)--Yes, dear.

Madame--Ah! you remember that you said, 'I don't care a . . .' Oh! but I
won't repeat what you said, it is too naughty. How angry you were! 'I
will go and dine at the restaurant, confound it!' But you did not s