“I say,” she continued, “I haven’t told you the story about you that Fauchery’s circulating.  There’s a viper, if you like!  I don’t bear him any ill will, because his article may be all right, but he’s a regular viper all the same.”

And laughing more gaily than ever, she let go her foot and, crawling along the floor, came and propped herself against the count’s knees.

“Now just fancy, he swears you were still like a babe when you married your wife.  You were still like that, eh?  Is it true, eh?”

Her eyes pressed for an answer, and she raised her hands to his shoulders and began shaking him in order to extract the desired confession.

“Without doubt,” he at last made answer gravely.

Thereupon she again sank down at his feet.  She was shaking with uproarious laughter, and she stuttered and dealt him little slaps.

“No, it’s too funny!  There’s no one like you; you’re a marvel.  But, my poor pet, you must just have been stupid!  When a man doesn’t know—­oh, it is so comical!  Good heavens, I should have liked to have seen you!  And it came off well, did it?  Now tell me something about it!  Oh, do, do tell me!”

She overwhelmed him with questions, forgetting nothing and requiring the veriest details.  And she laughed such sudden merry peals which doubled her up with mirth, and her chemise slipped and got turned down to such an extent, and her skin looked so golden in the light of the big fire, that little by little the count described to her his bridal night.  He no longer felt at all awkward.  He himself began to be amused at last as he spoke.  Only he kept choosing his phrases, for he still had a certain sense of modesty.  The young woman, now thoroughly interested, asked him about the countess.  According to his account, she had a marvelous figure but was a regular iceberg for all that.

“Oh, get along with you!” he muttered indolently.  “You have no cause to be jealous.”

Nana had ceased laughing, and she now resumed her former position and, with her back to the fire, brought her knees up under her chin with her clasped hands.  Then in a serious tone she declared: 

“It doesn’t pay, dear boy, to look like a ninny with one’s wife the first night.”

“Why?” queried the astonished count.

“Because,” she replied slowly, assuming a doctorial expression.

And with that she looked as if she were delivering a lecture and shook her head at him.  In the end, however, she condescended to explain herself more lucidly.

“Well, look here!  I know how it all happens.  Yes, dearie, women don’t like a man to be foolish.  They don’t say anything because there’s such a thing as modesty, you know, but you may be sure they think about it for a jolly long time to come.  And sooner or later, when a man’s been an ignoramus, they go and make other arrangements.  That’s it, my pet.”

He did not seem to understand.  Whereupon she grew more definite still.  She became maternal and taught him his lesson out of sheer goodness of heart, as a friend might do.  Since she had discovered him to be a cuckold the information had weighed on her spirits; she was madly anxious to discuss his position with him.