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Updated: May 9, 2025
I caught some mention of thousands of francs; surely there must be a bond of interest, or Wetter would have been turned out before now. Coralie moved toward the other end of the room, which was long, although narrow. I followed her. As she sat down she remarked: "He has lent Struboff twenty thousand francs; but for that I must have sung before I was ready." The situation seemed a little clearer.
What in Heaven's name made him Wetter's companion? What in Heaven's name made me such a fool as to ask the question? Men like Struboff can have but one merit, and, to be fair, but one serious crime. It is the same; they are the husbands of their wives. I could contain myself no longer. I rose and walked forward.
If I cried out, asking whether I were so unattractive that my bride must shrink from me, a thousand shocked voices would answer in like manner, "Oh, sire, what a question!" Later in the day I called on Coralie and found her alone. Speaking as though from my own observation, I taxed her roundly with her coldness to Struboff and with allowing him to perceive her distaste for him.
"To-night, sire, I thought of killing Struboff." "Ah, yes, the pleasures of imagination! I often indulge in them." "Then a bullet for myself." "Of course! And another impresario for Coralie! You must look ahead in such matters." "It would have made a great sensation." "Everywhere, except in the bosom of Coralie." "Your cleverness robbed the world of that other sensation long ago.
"Then come and let some champagne affect you," I advised him irritably. "What, are you to spoil a pleasant evening?" He looked at me with ponderous sorrowful reproach. "A pleasant evening!" he groaned, as he blew his nose. "Yes," I cried loudly. "A damnably pleasant evening, M. Struboff," and I caught him by the arm, dragged him from his stool, and carried him off to the table with me.
"That's all very well," said Coralie, "but after having grown ugly I don't think I should mind anything else." I clapped my hands. "I think," said I, "if M. Struboff will pardon the supposition, that madame will be allowed to escape perdition. For, see, she will stand up and she will say quite calmly, with that adorable smile of hers " "They don't mind smiles there, sire," put in Varvilliers.
"It is really you?" she asked in a whisper, with a lift of her eyelids. "Oh, without the least doubt!" I answered. "And it is you also?" Struboff came forward, tumbler in hand. "Pray, is your King fond of music?" he asked. "He will adore it from the lips of Madame Struboff," I answered, bowing. "He adored it from the lips of Mlle. Mansoni," observed Wetter, with a malicious smile.
The piece was good, nay, very good; there were feeling and passion in the music. I looked at Struboff. His fingers moved tenderly, tears stood in his little eyes. Coralie shouted perfect notes in perfect heartlessness. "My God!" muttered Wetter from the hearthrug, and bounded across to her. He caught her by the arm. "Feel, feel, feel!" he cried angrily. "Don't be so stupid," said Coralie.
"Yes; at least I should be, if it were not for Struboff. He annoys me very much. You know, it's like an ugly picture in the room, or a dog one hates. He doesn't say or do much, but he's there always. It frets me." "Madame, my sympathy is extreme." "Oh, your sympathy! You're laughing at me. I don't care. You're going to be married yourself." "What you imply is not very reassuring."
"For the matter of that, Baron, why else should you be here now? Why else should anybody be here now? It is even an excuse for Struboff's presence." "I need no excuse for being in my own home," said Struboff, and he gulped down his liquor. Wetter sprang up and seized him by the arm. "You are becoming fatter and fatter and fatter.
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