Madame--Repeat those two little words. I am your darling, then?

Monsieur--Ha! ha! ha! She has little fingers which --ha! ha!--
go into your neck--ha! ha!--you will make me break something, nervous as I
am.

Madame--Well, break something. If one may not touch one's husband, one
may as well go into a convent at once. (She puts her lips to MONSIEUR'S
ear and coquettishly pulls the end of his moustache.) I shall not be
happy till I have what I am longing for, and then it would be so kind of
you to do it.

Monsieur--Kind to do what? Come, dear, explain yourself.

Madame--You must first of all take off that great, ugly dressing-gown,
pull on your boots, put on your hat and go. Oh, don't make any faces;
if you grumble in the least all the merit of your devotedness will
disappear . . . and go to the grocer's at the corner of the street,
a very respectable shop.

Monsieur--To the grocer's at ten o'clock at night! Are you mad? I will
ring for John; it is his business.

Madame (staying his hand) You indiscreet man. These are our own private
affairs; we must not take any one into our confidence. I will go into
your dressing-room to get your things, and you will put your boots on
before the fire comfortably . . . to please me, Alfred, my love, my
life. I would give my little finger to have . . .