|
|
|
|
|
|
A short episode which, without directly relating to the action, gives the clientele some notions of our heroes' way of life. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
One day, however, it was worse than usual. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They were at the Théâtre d'Application, where, among other things, a play by M. Porto-Riche, The Faithless Wife, was being given. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
''Let me know,'' snarled Raoul, "when you're through looking at Grosclaude." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"And as for you," hissed Marguerite, "pass me the opera glasses when you've got Mademoiselle Moreno down pat." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Begun on this note, the conversation could end only in the most unfortunate reciprocal insults. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
In the hansom cab that took them home, Marguerite delighted in plucking at Raoul's vanity as at an old, broken-down mandolin. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
So it was that no sooner back home than the belligerents took up their respective positions. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hand raised to strike, with a remorseless gaze, and a moustache bristling like that of a rabid cat, Raoul bore down on Marguerite, who quickly stopped showing off. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The poor thing fled, as hasty and furtive as the doe in the north woods. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Raoul was on the point of laying hands on her. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It was at that moment that the brilliant invention of the greatest anxieties flashed within her little brain. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Turning suddenly about, she threw herself into the arms of Raoul, crying, "Help, my darling Raoul, save me!" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
In which our friends are reconciled as I would wish you also to be frequently reconciled, smart-alecks. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
As to how people who get involved in things that are none of their affair would do better to mind their own business. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
One morning, Raoul received the following message: |
|
|
|
|
|