What amazed him most was the baron's perfect
calmness, following, as it did, such a fit of furious passion,
violent enough even to be heard in the vestibule. "Either he has
extraordinary control over himself or this scene conceals some
mystery," thought Pascal.
Meanwhile, the man-milliner continued to urge his claims--but the
baron, instead of replying, only whistled; and wounded by this
breach of good manners, Van Klopen at last exclaimed: "I have had
dealings with all the distinguished men in Europe, and never
before did one of them refuse to pay me for his wife's toilettes."
"Very well--I don't pay for them--there's the difference. Do you
suppose that I, Baron Trigault, that I've worked like a negro for
twenty years merely for the purpose of aiding your charming and
useful branch of industry? Gather up your papers, Mr. Ladies'
Tailor. There may be husbands who believe themselves responsible
for their wives' follies--it's quite possible there are--but I'm
not made of that kind of stuff. I allow Madame Trigault eight
thousand francs a month for her toilette--that is sufficient--and
it is a matter for you and her to arrange together. What did I
tell you last year when I paid a bill of forty thousand francs?
That I would not be responsible for any more of my wife's debts.
And I not only said it, I formally notified you through my private
secretary.
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