“I will fall back on a simple little citizen’s wife,” said he to himself, recalling Madame Marneffe’s adorable graces. “Such a woman as that will soon make me forget that grasping Josepha.”
Now, this was what was happening at the same moment outside and inside the curiosity shop.
As he fixed his eyes on the windows of his new _belle_, the Baron saw the husband, who, while brushing his coat with his own hands, was apparently on the lookout, expecting to see some one on the square. Fearing lest he should be seen, and subsequently recognized, the amorous Baron turned his back on the Rue du Doyenne, or rather stood at three-quarters’ face, as it were, so as to be able to glance round from time to time. This manoeuvre brought him face to face with Madame Marneffe, who, coming up from the quay, was doubling the promontory of houses to go home.
Valerie was evidently startled as she met the Baron’s astonished eye, and she responded with a prudish dropping of her eyelids.
“A pretty woman,” exclaimed he, “for whom a man would do many foolish things.”
“Indeed, monsieur?” said she, turning suddenly, like a woman who has just come to some vehement decision, “you are Monsieur le Baron Hulot, I believe?”
The Baron, more and more bewildered, bowed assent.
“Then, as chance has twice made our eyes meet, and I am so fortunate as to have interested or puzzled you, I may tell you that, instead of doing anything foolish, you ought to do justice.--My husband’s fate rests with you.”
“And how may that be?” asked the gallant Baron.
“He is employed in your department in the War Office, under Monsieur Lebrun, in Monsieur Coquet’s room,” said she with a smile.
“I am quite disposed, Madame--Madame----?”
“Dear little Madame Marneffe, to do injustice for your sake.--I have a cousin living in your house; I will go to see her one day soon--as soon as possible; bring your petition to me in her rooms.”
“Pardon my boldness, Monsieur le Baron; you must understand that if I dare to address you thus, it is because I have no friend to protect me----”
“Monsieur, you misunderstand me,” said she, lowering her eyelids.
Hulot felt as if the sun had disappeared.
“I am at my wits’ end, but I am an honest woman!” she went on. “About six months ago my only protector died, Marshal Montcornet--”