“Far from it, my lord,” replied the Bailiff, “the friendship with which you honour us, and the virtue of Madame Magloire are sufficient guarantees for me to be glad at any hour to have my house honoured by your presence.”
“Triple dyed idiot!” murmured the shoe-maker, “unless I ought rather to call him a doubly clever dissembler.... No matter which, however! we have yet to see how my lord is going to get out of it.”
“Nevertheless,” continued Maître Magloire, dipping a handkerchief into some aromatic water, and bathing his wife’s temples with it, “nevertheless, I am curious to know how my poor wife can have received such a shock.”
“It’s a simple affair enough, as I will explain, my dear fellow. I was returning from dining with my friend, de Vivières, and passing through Erneville on my way to Vez, I caught sight of an open window, and a woman inside making signals of distress.”
“Ah! my God!”
“That is what I exclaimed, when I realised that the window belonged to your house; and can it be my friend the Bailiff’s wife, I thought, who is in danger and in need of help?”
“You are good indeed, my lord,” said the Bailiff quite overcome. “I trust it was nothing of the sort.”
“On the contrary, my dear man.”
“How! on the contrary?”
“Yes, as you will see.”