She insisted, very much astonished, standing before him with wide open, wondering eyes. “But why? What a funny thing. It happens every day. I should not have thought you such a goose.”
He was hurt, and said: “Very well, I will come to dinner on Monday.”
She went on: “In order that it may seem more natural I will ask the Forestiers, though I really do not like entertaining people at home.”
Until Monday Duroy scarcely thought any more about the interview, but on mounting the stairs at Madame de Marelle’s he felt strangely uneasy, not that it was so repugnant to him to take her husband’s hand, to drink his wine, and eat his bread, but because he felt afraid of something without knowing what. He was shown into the drawing-room and waited as usual. Soon the door of the inner room opened, and he saw a tall, white-bearded man, wearing the ribbon of the Legion of Honor, grave and correct, who advanced towards him with punctilious politeness, saying: “My wife has often spoken to me of you, sir, and I am delighted to