But he was becoming serious! He wanted to marry me." He waxed pale, and she flung her arms round his neck and hung there, laughing, while she emphasized every little cruel speech with a caress.
"You can't marry Nana! Isn't that what's fetching you, eh?
When they're all bothering me with their marriages you're raging in your corner.

It isn't possible; you must wait till your wife kicks the bucket.

Oh, if she were only to do that, how you'd come rushing round! How you'd fling yourself on the ground and make your offer with all the grand accompaniments--sighs and tears and vows! Wouldn't it be nice, darling, eh ?" Her voice had become soft, and she was chaffing him in a ferociously wheedling manner.

He was deeply moved and began blushing as he paid her back her kisses.

Then she cried: "By God, to think I should have guessed! He's thought about it; he's waiting for his wife to go off the hooks! Well, well, that's the finishing touch! Why, he's even a bigger rascal than the others!" Muffat had resigned himself to "the others." Nowadays he was trusting to the last relics of his personal dignity in order to remain "Monsieur" among the servants and intimates of the house, the man, in fact, who because he gave most was the official lover.