"
He showed Hulot the note that Reine had delivered to him in his
private room at the office.
"It is one of the documents in the case," said the police-agent;
"return it to me, monsieur."
"Well, monsieur," replied Hulot with bitter expression, "that woman is
profligacy itself in fixed ratios. I am certain at this moment that
she has three lovers."
"That is perfectly evident," said the officer. "Oh, they are not all
on the streets! When a woman follows that trade in a carriage and a
drawing-room, and her own house, it is not a case for francs and
centimes, Monsieur le Baron. Mademoiselle Esther, of whom you spoke,
and who poisoned herself, made away with millions.--If you will take
my advice, you will get out of it, monsieur. This last little game
will have cost you dear. That scoundrel of a husband has the law on
his side. And indeed, but for me, that little woman would have caught
you again!"
"Thank you, monsieur," said the Baron, trying to maintain his dignity.
"Now we will lock up; the farce is played out, and you can send your
key to Monsieur the Mayor."
Hulot went home in a state of dejection bordering on helplessness, and
sunk in the gloomiest thoughts. He woke his noble and saintly wife,
and poured into her heart the history of the past three years, sobbing
like a child deprived of a toy. This confession from an old man young
in feeling, this frightful and heart-rending narrative, while it
filled Adeline with pity, also gave her the greatest joy; she thanked
Heaven for this last catastrophe, for in fancy she saw the husband
settled at last in the bosom of his family.
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