alone.

"Was Felcite the name of his first or second wife!" I asked.

"Of his second, of course. Didn't you hear him say the first was an
Englishwoman? The second is a tall, rather good-looking pale
Frenchwoman. You may see her to-night, and on the other hand you may
not, she doesn't often appear in here. I wish she did, I am rather
fond of her myself, which is more than her husband is. It's pretty
well known that Mr. and Mrs. Joseph do _not_ get on comfortably. In
fact, he hates her, or rather ignores her, while she doats upon him
and is tremendously jealous of the parrot"

"What, that green thing?"

"Well, its a lovely parrot, you must know, and the moment it came
into his possession--he has had it about three years--he seemed to
transfer whatever affection he had for his wife to that creature,
with a great deal beside. Why, he hugs it, and kisses it, and mows
over it--look at him now!"

Sure, enough, there was Martinetti with the bird on his finger,
kissing it, and otherwise making a fool of himself. He finished by
actually putting it away inside his coat in a kind of breast pocket,
I should imagine.

"All this is good for business, perhaps," I said.

"What, the parrot and so on? Oh, yes I daresay, that has something
to do with it. Still they are a queer couple. I come here mostly on