especially after our little disagreement, and this is how I have
arranged matters: Come to dinner Monday. I will introduce you to M.
de Marelle, I have already spoken of you to him."

Duroy hesitated in perplexity; he feared he might betray something
by a word, a glance. He stammered:

"No, I would rather not meet your husband."

"Why not? How absurd! Such things happen every day. I did not think
you so foolish."

"Very well, I will come to dinner Monday."

"To make it more pleasant, I will have the Forestiers, though I do
not like to receive company at home."

On Monday as he ascended Mme. de Marelle's staircase, he felt
strangely troubled; not that he disliked to take her husband's hand,
drink his wine, and eat his bread, but he dreaded something, he knew
not what. He was ushered into the salon and he waited as usual. Then
the door opened, and a tall man with a white beard, grave and
precise, advanced toward him and said courteously:

"My wife has often spoken of you, sir; I am charmed to make your
acquaintance."

Duroy tried to appear cordial and shook his host's proffered hand
with exaggerated energy. M. de Marelle put a log upon the fire and
asked: