They parted. When Duroy opened his bedroom door and fumbled in his vest pocket for a match, he was amazed to find in it a piece of money — a twenty- franc piece! At first he wondered by what miracle it had got there; suddenly it occurred to him that Mme. de Marelle had given him alms! Angry and humiliated, he determined to return it when next they met. The next morning it was late when he awoke; he tried to overcome his hunger. He went out and as he passed the restaurants he could scarcely resist their temptations. At noon he said: “Bah, I shall lunch upon Clotilde’s twenty francs; that will not hinder me from returning the money to-morrow.” He ate his lunch, for which he paid two francs fifty, and on entering the office of “La Vie Francaise” he repaid the porter the three francs he had borrowed from him. He worked until seven o’clock, then he dined, and he continued to draw upon the twenty francs until only four francs twenty remained. He decided to say to Mme. de Marelle upon her arrival: “I found the twenty-franc piece you slipped into my pocket. I will not return the money to-day, but I will repay you when we next meet.” When Madame came, he dared not broach the delicate subject. They spent the evening together and appointed their next meeting for Wednesday of the following week, for Mme. de Marelle had a number of engagements. Duroy continued to accept money from Clotilde and quieted his conscience by assuring himself: “I will give it back in a lump. It is nothing but borrowed money anyway.” So he kept account of all that he received in order to pay it back some day. One evening, Mme. de Marelle said to him: “Would you believe that I have never been to the Folies-Bergeres; will you take me there?” He hesitated, fearing a meeting with Rachel. Then he thought: “Bah, I am not married after all. If she should see me, she would take in the situation and not accost me. Moreover, we would have a box.” When they entered the hall, it was crowded; with difficulty they made their way to their seats. Mme. de Marelle did not look at the stage; she was interested in watching the women who were promenading, and she felt an irresistible desire to touch them, to see of what those beings were made. Suddenly she said: “There is a large brunette who stares at us all the time. I think every minute she will speak to us. Have you seen her?” He replied: “No, you are mistaken.” He told an untruth, for he had noticed the woman, who was no other than Rachel, with anger in her eyes and violent words upon her lips. Duroy had passed her when he and Mme. de Marelle entered and she had said to him: “Good evening,” in a low voice and with a wink which said “I understand.” But he had not replied; for fear of being seen by his sweetheart he passed her coldly, disdainfully. The woman, her jealousy aroused, followed the couple and said in a louder key: “Good evening, Georges.” He paid no heed to her. Then she was determined to be recognized and she remained near their box, awaiting a favorable moment. When she saw that she was observed by Mme. de Marelle, she touched Duroy’s shoulder with the tip of her finger, and said: “Good evening. How are you?” But Georges did not turn his head. She continued: “Have you grown deaf since Thursday?” Still he did not reply. She laughed angrily and cried: “Are you dumb, too? Perhaps Madame has your tongue?” With a furious glance, Duroy then exclaimed: “How dare you accost me? Go along or I will have you arrested.” With flaming eyes, she cried: “Ah, is that so! Because you are with another is no reason that you cannot recognize me. If you had made the least sign of recognition when you passed me, I would not have molested you. You did not even say good evening to me when you met me.” During that tirade Mme. de Marelle in affright opened the door of the box and fled through the crowd seeking an exit. Duroy rushed after her. Rachel, seeing him disappear, cried: “Stop her! she has stolen my lover!” Two men seized the fugitive by the shoulder, but Duroy, who had caught up with her, bade them desist, and together he and Clotilde reached the street. They entered a cab. The cabman asked: “Where shall I drive to?” Duroy replied: “Where you will!” Clotilde sobbed hysterically. Duroy did not know what to say or do. At length he stammered: “Listen Clo — my dearest Clo, let me explain. It is not my fault. I knew that woman — long ago —” She raised her head and with the fury of a betrayed woman, she cried disconnectedly: “Ah, you miserable fellow — what a rascal you are! Is it possible? What disgrace, oh, my God! You gave her my money — did you not? I gave him the money — for that woman — oh, the wretch!” For several moments she seemed to be vainly seeking an epithet more forcible. Suddenly leaning forward she grasped the cabman’s sleeve. “Stop!” she cried, and opening the door, she alighted. Georges was about to follow her but she commanded: “I forbid you to follow me,” in a voice so loud that the passers-by crowded around her, and Duroy dared not stir for fear of a scandal. She drew out her purse, and taking two francs fifty from it, she handed it to the cabman, saying aloud: “Here is the money for your hour. Take that rascal to Rue Boursault at Batignolles!” The crowd applauded; one man said: “Bravo, little one!” and the cab moved on, followed by the jeers of the bystanders.
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