So excuse me, Durtal.

I leave it to my wife to continue this Marivaux conversation about Satanism with you." He said it in the simplest, most debonair fashion to be imagined, but with just the slightest trace of irony.
Which Durtal perceived.

"It must be quite late," he thought, when the door closed after Chantelouve.

He consulted his watch.

Nearly eleven.