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"If you would like just once to see your wife in a good mood, go on Thursday to the Bal des Incohérents at the Moulin-Rouge. She will be there, with a mask and disguised as a Congolese Dugout. A word to the wise is sufficient!
A FRIEND."
The same morning, Marguerite received the following message:
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"If you would like just once to see your husband in a good mood, go on Thursday to the Bal des Incohérents at the Moulin-Rouge. He will be there, with a mask and disguised as a fin-de-siècle Knight Templar. A word to the wise is sufficient!
A FRIEND."
These missives did not fall on deaf ears.
With their intentions admirably dissimulated, when the fatal day arrived:
"My dear," Raoul said with his innocent look, "I shall be forced to leave you until tomorrow. Business of the greatest urgency summons me to Dunkirk."
"Why that's perfect," said Marguerite with delightful candor, "I've just received a telegram from Aunt Aspasia, who, desperately ill, bids me to her bedside."
Chapter V
In which today's wild youth is observed in the whirl of the most illusory and transitory pleasures, instead of thinking on eternity.
The social column of the Diable boiteux was unanimous in proclaiming this year's Bal des Incohérents as having unaccustomed brilliance.
Lots of shoulders, no few legs, not to mention accessories.
Two of those present seemed not to take part in the general madness: a fin-de-siècle Knight Templar and a Congolese Dugout, both hermetically masked.
At the stroke of three A.M. exactly, the Knight Templar approached the Dugout and invited her to dine with him.
In reply the Dugout placed a tiny hand on the robust arm of the Templar, and the couple went off.
Chapter VI
In which the plot thickens.
"Leave us for a moment," said the Templar to the waiter, "we will make our choice and call you."

 
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