It is she who has declared
it proper form to take a 'drop' on returning from the Bois. No
one is so famed for 'form,' as the baroness--and silk merchants
have bestowed her name upon a color. People rave of the Trigault
blue--what glory! There are also costumes Trigault, for the witty,
elegant baroness has a host of admirers who follow her everywhere,
and loudly sing her praises. This is what I, a plain, honest man,
read every day in the newspapers. The whole world not only knows
how my wife dresses, but how she looks en dishabille, and how she
is formed; folks are aware that she has an exquisite foot, a
divinely-shaped leg, and a perfect hand. No one is ignorant of
the fact that my wife's shoulders are of dazzling whiteness, and
that high on the left shoulder there is a most enticing little
mole. I had the satisfaction of reading this particular last
evening. It is charming, upon my word! and I am truly a fortunate
man!"
In the smoking-room, Pascal could hear the baroness angrily stamp
her foot, as she exclaimed: "It is an outrageous insult--your
journalists are most impertinent."
"Why? Do they ever trouble honest women?"
"They wouldn't trouble me if I had a husband who knew how to make
them treat me with respect!"
The baron laughed a strident, nervous laugh, which it was not
pleasant to hear, and which revealed the fact that intense
suffering was hidden beneath all this banter.
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