Without turning towards her husband, the young woman
said:
“If you had left his chain on, it would not
have happened. When people are as stupid as you
are they do not keep a dog.”
“But, my dear, it was you—”
he murmured timidly.
She stopped short, and looking into his eyes as if
she were going to tear them out, she began again to
cast in his face innumerable reproaches.
It was growing dark. The cloud of vapor that
covers the country at dusk was slowly rising and there
was a poetry in the air, induced by the peculiar and
enchanting freshness of the atmosphere that one feels
in the woods at nightfall.
Suddenly the young man stopped, and feeling his body
feverishly, exclaimed:
“Oh, I think that I—”
She looked at him.
“Well, what?”
“I did not notice that I had my coat on my arm.”
“Well—?”
“I have lost my pocketbook—my money
was in it.”
She shook with anger and choked with indignation.
“That was all that was lacking. How stupid
you are! how stupid you are! Is it possible that
I could have married such an idiot! Well, go and
look for it, and see that you find it. I am going
on to Versailles with monsieur. I do not want
to sleep in the wood.”
“Yes, my dear,” he replied gently.
“Where shall I find you?”
A restaurant had been recommended to me. I gave
him the address.
He turned back and, stooping down as he searched the
ground with anxious eyes, he moved away, screaming
“tuituit” every few moments.
We could see him for some time until the growing darkness
concealed all but his outline, but we heard his mournful
“tuituit,” shriller and shriller as the
night grew darker.
As for me, I stepped along quickly and happily in
the soft twilight, with this little unknown woman
leaning on my arm. I tried to say pretty things
to her, but could think of nothing. I remained
silent, disturbed, enchanted.
Our path was suddenly crossed by a high road.
To the right I perceived a town lying in a valley.
What was this place? A man was passing.
I asked him. He replied:
“Bougival.”
I was dumfounded.
“What, Bougival? Are you sure?”
“Parbleu, I belong there!”
The little woman burst into an idiotic laugh.
I proposed that we should take a carriage and drive
to Versailles. She replied:
“No, indeed. This is very funny and I am
very hungry. I am really quite calm. My
husband will find his way all right. It is a treat
to me to be rid of him for a few hours.”
We went into a restaurant beside the water and I ventured
to ask for a private compartment. We had some
supper. She sang, drank champagne, committed
all sorts of follies.
That was my first serious flirtation.
