Monsieur, Madame, and Bebe -- V

en-MONSIEUR is in his dressing-gown and slippers, is leaning back in an armc

have taken place, h

t raising his ey

ever have believed it. But th

t raising his ey

doration, 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 cari

tinuing to re

; it vexed me to see you in a rage on God's account, but for my own part I was pleased; I like to see you in a fury; your nostrils expand, and then your moustache bristles, you put me in mind of a lion, and I have always liked lions. When I was quite a child at the Zoological Gar

t would scarcely interest you. (With a grimace.) There are Latin phrases, you know,

doration, Louise confided to me, under th

e you? What

me; that is

gel, follies as great as your chignon. You wome

resemblances we have, must certainly be attributed to something. Can any one imagine,

cousin! Ferdinand is on

r, that he is n

at his mother must have h

can I do to he

that such things are not to be laughed at; a

his newspaper)-The de

semble a lion again, and I never shall dare to tell you. It is s

ible to gratify it, you know that I love you, my . . . Don't kiss m

two little words. I

hich -ha! ha!- go into your neck-ha! ha!-you

at once. (She puts her lips to MONSIEUR'S ear and coquettishly pulls the end of his moustache.) I

o what? Come, dear

ur hat and go. Oh, don't make any faces; if you grumble in the least all the merit of your devotedn

clock at night! Are you mad? I wil

o our confidence. I will go into your dressing-room to get your things, and you will put your boots on before

what, hang it all

her eyes on him)-I want a sou's wor

t is madness,

rest; only a sou's worth

kind-hearted, but I

hat I love you as I have never loved you yet, that my mother had the same desire-Oh! my poor mother (she weeps in her hands), if she could only know, if she were

self and suddenly ris

, my love, you are good, yes, you are goo

want of that abomination-a franc's wo

use of it-only a sou's worth. I have some sous for ma

MONS

Then she lights the wax candle in a little candlestick, and quietly makes her way to the kitchen, noiselessly opens a press, takes out three little dessert plates, bordered wit

sets out the plates, puts the spoons by them, and enchanted, impatient, with flushed complexion, l

drawingroom, Madame claps her hands and Monsieur comes in. He does not look very pleased, as he ad

lding it out to her husband)-Relieve yourself

eur-Q

ot meant for a reproach, you are an angel; bu

s are covered with it . . . it's sticky . . . it's horrid, pa

pretty little table, do you remember how we supped by the fir

agine that I am going to touch i

If in order to please me you were to overcome a slight repugnance, if you wer

the harm! it would

, for there is nothing disgusting there, it is flour and water, nothing

-What you say is childish, puerile

your feet pleading for an insignificant thing, puerile, childish, foolish, perhaps, but one which would give me

eur-N

d it to me yourself one

e walking home

l, there is no gr

h you, this sternness is part of

pride you imagine, and there (he dips his finger in the paste and carries it to his li

u were pr

I swear t

r precious paste and holding it to her husband's

teeth, with marked disgust, in the paste, makes

g the spoon and with

t is awful! oh!

spoon, her little finger in the air)-I shou

on see for yourself,

no hurry, I hav

at it is like. Tas

-Oh! how you worry me. Be quiet, do; for a trifle I c