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The investment of the Thuilliers, prepared with so much care, all useless; Flavie well avenged for the odious comedy he had played with her; his affairs in a worse state than they were when Cerizet and Dutocq had sent him, like a devouring wolf, into the sheepfold from which he had allowed the stupid sheep to drive him; his heart full of revengeful projects against the woman who had so easily got the better of what he thought his cleverness; and the memory, still vivid, of the seductions to which he had succumbed, such were the thoughts and emotions of his sleepless night, sleepless except for moments shaken by agitated dreams.
"La Peyrade." "Why, Charles?" "He holds my future in his hands. Besides, he's a man of genius. I know what that is. He's got this sort of thing," and Thuillier made the gesture of a dentist pulling out a back tooth. "We must bind him to us, Flavie. But, above all, don't let him see his power. As for me, I shall just give and take with him." "Do you want me to be coquettish?"
What would I not do for a father-in-law! This is pure selfishness; I shall be working for myself." "Hush!" cried Thuillier. "Eh, my friend!" said la Peyrade, catching Thuillier round the body; "if I hadn't Flavie on my side, and if I didn't know all should I venture to be talking to you thus? But please say nothing to Flavie about this; wait till she speaks to you.
For all the use we make of stars it seems to me we have got enough of them as it is." "Bravo, Brigitte!" said Colleville, getting loose again; "you are right, my girl, and I think, as you do, that the man who discovers a new dish deserves better of humanity." "Colleville," said Flavie, "I must say that your style of behavior is in the worst taste."
"So," said Colleville, resuming the conversation which the invasion of Flavie had interrupted, "Felix no longer inhabits this earth; he lives among the stars?"
Flavie, to whom in all her life love had never taken the language of romance, sat still, but happy, her heart palpitating, and saying to herself that it was very difficult to escape such influence.
Shall I not force my arm down their throats to their very entrails? Yes, yes, I will, I will! See, Flavie, my eyes are dry now. Ha, ha! now I laugh; I feel my strength come back to me; power is mine! Oh! say that you love me; say it again! At this moment it sounds like the word 'Pardon' to the man condemned to death!" "You are terrible, my friend!" cried Flavie. "Oh! you are killing me."
Mounted upon her chair, her hair in disorder and her face and fingers dirty, Brigitte, duster in hand, was cleaning the shelves of the closet, where she was replacing her library of plates, dishes, and sauce-boats, when Flavie came in and accosted her.
The soft yielding of the arm within his own, indicated a tacit consent to this proposal, and as Flavie deserved the honor of a sort of enthusiasm, he drew her vehemently along, exclaiming: "Come! we may never have so good a moment But see!" he added, "there is your husband at the window looking at us; let us walk slowly."
"You, Flavie," said Brigitte, when Thuillier had departed to his wife, "you will do me the pleasure to go down to your own apartment, and tell Mademoiselle Celeste that I don't choose to see her now, because if she made me any irritating answer I might box her ears.
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