"
"Then they are very happy?"
"One would say they _ought_ to be happy."
"And what prevents?"
"He is jealous."
"But his wife--she gives him no cause."
"I am afraid she does."
"How, Monsieur?"
"I always thought she was a little too--_a great deal_ too--"
"Too _what_, Monsieur?"
"Too handsome. But although she has remarkable fine eyes, exquisite
features, and the most delicate complexion in the world, I believe that
she is a woman of probity. You have never seen her?"
"There was a lady, muffled up in a cloak, with a very thick veil on, the
other night, in the hall of the Belle Etoile, when I broke that fellow's
head who was bullying the old Count. But her veil was so thick I could
not see a feature through it!" My answer was diplomatic, you observe.
"She may have been the Count's daughter. Do they quarrel?"
"Who, he and his wife?"
"Yes."
"A little."
Oh! and what do they quarrel about?"
"It is a long story; about the lady's diamonds. They are valuable--they
are worth, La Perelleuse says, about a million of francs. The Count
wishes them sold and turned into revenue, which he offers to settle as
she pleases. The Countess, whose they are, resists, and for a reason
which, I rather think, she can't disclose to him."
"And pray what is that?" I asked, my curiosity a good deal piqued.
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