Ten o'clock
was striking. As he had a key of a little door opening on the Rue
Cardinet, he went up unhindered. In the drawing room upstairs Zoe, who
was polishing the bronzes, stood dumfounded at sight of him, and not
knowing how to stop him, she began with much circumlocution, informing
him that M. Venot, looking utterly beside himself, had been searching
for him since yesterday and that he had already come twice to beg her to
send Monsieur to his house if Monsieur arrived at Madame's before going
home. Muffat listened to her without in the least understanding the
meaning of her recital; then he noticed her agitation and was seized by
a sudden fit of jealousy of which he no longer believed himself capable.
He threw himself against the bedroom door, for he heard the sound of
laughter within. The door gave; its two flaps flew asunder, while Zoe
withdrew, shrugging her shoulders. So much the worse for Madame! As
Madame was bidding good-by to her wits, she might arrange matters for
herself.
And on the threshold Muffat uttered a cry at the sight that was
presented to his view.
"My God! My God!"
The renovated bedroom was resplendent in all its royal luxury. Silver
buttons gleamed like bright stars on the tea-rose velvet of the
hangings.
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