"It is eleven o'clock," replied Valerie. "Really, Monsieur Crevel, one
might fancy you meant to kill my husband. Make haste, at any rate."
This double-barreled speech made Crevel and Hulot smile, and even
Marneffe himself. Valerie sat down to talk to Hector.
"You must leave, my dearest," said she in Hulot's ear. "Walk up and
down the Rue Vanneau, and come in again when you see Crevel go out."
"I would rather leave this room and go into your room through the
dressing-room door. You could tell Reine to let me in."
"Reine is upstairs attending to Lisbeth."
"Well, suppose then I go up to Lisbeth's rooms?"
Danger hemmed in Valerie on every side; she foresaw a discussion with
Crevel, and could not allow Hulot to be in her room, where he could
hear all that went on.--And the Brazilian was upstairs with Lisbeth.
"Really, you men, when you have a notion in your head, you would burn
a house down to get into it!" exclaimed she. "Lisbeth is not in a fit
state to admit you.--Are you afraid of catching cold in the street? Be
off there--or good-night."
"Good evening, gentlemen," said the Baron to the other two.
Hulot, when piqued in his old man's vanity, was bent on proving that
he could play the young man by waiting for the happy hour in the open
air, and he went away.
Marneffe bid his wife good-night, taking her hands with a semblance of
devotion. Valerie pressed her husband's hand with a significant
glance, conveying:
"Get rid of Crevel.
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