‘It depends. Sometimes I go to the theatre.’

‘Well then, Monsieur, let’s go to the theatre.’

He was recognized by the management at the Vaudeville10 who found seats for them straight away. To crown it all, she was seen by the entire audience, sitting by his side in the first row of the balcony.

After the show, he kissed her hand gallantly and said, ‘It only remains, Madame, for me to thank you for a delightful …’

She interrupted. ‘What is it you do at this time of night?’

‘What do I do? You mean what do I … ? Well I go home, of course.’

‘In that case, Monsieur, let us go to your home,’ she said, laughing shakily.

Not a word more was spoken. From time to time a shiver ran through her, half of terror, half of delight. She was in an exquisite agony, torn between the desire to run away and her determination, in her heart of hearts, to stay and see it through.

As they mounted the stairs, her feelings nearly overcame her and she leaned heavily on the banister while he wheezed on ahead, carrying a taper.

As soon as she was in the bedroom, she undressed quickly, slid wordlessly into bed and, huddling up against the wall, waited.

She was as unsophisticated, however, as only the lawful wife of a country solicitor can be, while he was as demanding as a pasha with three tails. They did not get on at all well. Not at all.

Afterwards, he fell asleep. The night hours passed silently save for the ticking of the clock as, motionless, she thought of her conjugal nights at home.

By the yellow light of a Chinese lantern, she looked in dismay at the tubby little man beside her, lying on his back with the sheet draped over his hot-air balloon of a belly.

While he snored like a pipe-organ, with comic interludes of lengthy, strangulated snorts, the few hairs he possessed, exhausted by the onerous responsibility of masking the ravages of time on his balding skull during the day, now stood perkily on end. A dribble of saliva flowed from the corner of his half-open mouth.

When dawn finally broke, light fell through a gap in the drawn curtains. She got up, dressed noiselessly and had just managed to ease the door open when the latch grated. He woke up and rubbed his eyes. It took a few seconds for him to recover his senses, when the whole affair came flooding back into his mind.

‘Oh … so … you’re leaving then, are you?’ he asked.

‘Well … yes,’ she stammered, ‘it’s morning.’

He sat up in bed.

‘Look …’, he said, ‘let me ask something for once, will you?’

As she made no reply, he went on, ‘I don’t understand what you’ve been up to all this time … since yesterday. Come on … tell me what you’re up to … I can’t work it out …’