While Monsieur, with wrinkled brow, was absorbed in the study of the rebus, Madame said, a little dryly:
"Robert?"
"My darling."
"Then you notice nothing?"
"No. What?
In this rebus?"
She shrugged her shoulders, and pursed up her lips.
"It is not a question of the rebus.
Then you notice nothing? Well, you never notice anything."
Monsieur surveyed the room from carpet to ceiling, from dressing-table to door, with an annoyed and a very round look, which was excessively comical.
"No, indeed!
What is it?
Is there anything new here, then, that I have not noticed?
I see nothing, upon my word."
Madame became very sad, and she groaned:
"Robert, you no longer love me."
"What! I no longer love you!
Indeed, that is putting it a little too strong!"
He rose, brandishing the fashion journal.
"What! I no longer love you!" he repeated.
"Well, that's an idea!
Why do you say that?"
"No, you no longer love me ... because, if you still loved me, you would have noticed something."
"But what thing?"
"Well, you would have noticed my corset."
"What corset?
Oh! yes, this corset. 'Tis true, I had not noticed it. How stupid I am! Why, yes, it is very pretty, you know,... ravishing."
"Yes, you say that now, and you don't mean it. I am too stupid, myself. I tire myself out in trying to make myself beautiful,—in trying to find things to please you. And you care nothing about it. Besides, what am I to you?
Nothing; less than nothing!
You come in here, and what do you see?
That dirty newspaper. In what are you interested?
In a rebus! Ah, a pretty life you give me here! We do not see anybody; we do not go anywhere; we live like wolves, like poor people."
"Oh! come, come, I beg of you. Don't get angry. Come! As poor people, indeed!"
He tried to approach Madame, to take her about the waist, to kiss her, but she repulsed him severely.
"No, let me alone. You provoke me."
"Oh! come, my darling, my little wife."
"You provoke me, do you hear?
Let me alone. Do not approach me. You are a gross egoist, a clumsy puppy; you don't know how to do anything for me; you are a dirty type, there!"
"Why do you say that?
It is madness.
Come, don't fly into a passion like that. Well, yes, I was wrong. I ought to have seen this corset right away,—this very pretty corset.
Why did I not see it right away? I do not understand it. Look at me; smile at me. My! how pretty it is! And how it becomes you!"
Monsieur dwelt too persistently upon the subject.
He irritated me, although I had no interest in the quarrel.
Madame stamped on the carpet, and, becoming more and more nervous, with pale lips and clenched hands, she rattled on:
"You provoke me, you provoke me! Do you understand? Clear out!"
Monsieur continued to stammer, beginning now to show signs of exasperation.
"My darling! It is not reasonable. Just for a corset! It is out of all proportion. Come, my darling, look at me, smile at me. It is stupid to make such a fuss over a corset."
"Ah! Tu m'emmerdes!" vomited Madame, in the voice of a washerwoman. "Tu m'emmerdes! Clear out!"
I had finished lacing my mistress.