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The hostess sat silent, but no second talker was needed when the poet was present. Tenise laughed merrily now and then at his bright sayings, for the excellence of the meal had banished her fears of poison. "What penetrating smell is this that fills the room? Better open the window," said Caspilier. "It is nothing," replied Valdorême, speaking for the first time since they had sat down.
The two comrades embraced and separated; the friend to use his influence and powers of persuasion with Valdorême; the husband to tell Tenise how blessed they were in having such a friend to intercede for them; for Tenise, bright little Parisienne that she was, bore no malice against the unreasonable wife of her lover.
Russians are unreasoning aborigines. Why not take up life in a simple poetic way with Tenise, and avoid the Rue de Russie altogether?" Caspilier sighed gently. Here fate struck him hard. "Alas! my friend, it is impossible. Tenise is an artist's model, and those brutes of painters who get such prices for their daubs, pay her so little each week that her wages would hardly keep me in food and drink.
"You would make a name for yourself on the stage. I will write a tragedy for you, and we will " Tenise struck the match. A simultaneous flash of lightning and clap of thunder filled the room. The glass in the window fell clattering into the street. Valdorême was standing with her back against the door.
The prima donna had looked and pleaded like Valdorême. Caspilier shrugged his shoulders, but did not withdraw his wrist from her firm grasp. "Why go over the whole weary ground again?" he said. "If it were not Tenise, it would be somebody else. I was never meant for a constant husband, Val. I understood from Lacour that we were to have no more of this nonsense."
"I have some of your favourite cigarettes here. I will get them." She arose, and, as she went to the table on which the boxes lay, she quietly and deftly locked the door, and, pulling out the key, slipped it into her pocket. "Do you smoke, mademoiselle?" she asked, speaking to Tenise. She had not recognised her presence before. "Sometimes, madame," answered the girl, with a titter.
The heart of the poet was filled with joy when he heard from his friend that at last Valdorême had come to regard his union with Tenise in the light of reason. Caspilier, as he embraced Lacour, admitted that perhaps there was something to be said for his wife after all.
"I'm afraid of her," whimpered Tenise, holding back. "She will poison us." "Nonsense," said Caspilier, in a whisper. "Come along. She is too fond of me to attempt anything of that kind, and you are safe when I am here." Valdorême sat at the head of the table, with her husband at her right hand and Tenise on her left. The breakfast was the best either of them had ever tasted.
"You will find these cigarettes excellent. My husband's taste in cigarettes is better than in many things. He prefers the Russian to the French." Caspilier laughed loudly. "That's a slap at you, Tenise," he said. "At me? Not so; she speaks of cigarettes, and I myself prefer the Russian, only they are so expensive."
Tenise, fluttering her helpless little hands before her, tottered shrieking to the broken window. Caspilier, staggering panting to his feet, gasped "You Russian devil! The key, the key!" He tried to clutch her throat, but she pushed him back. "Go to your Frenchwoman. She's calling for help." Tenise sank by the window, one burning arm over the sill, and was silent.
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