Bondel was a merchant who had retired from active business after saving enough to allow him to live quietly; he had rented a little house at Saint-Germain and lived there with his wife.  He was a quiet man with very decided opinions; he had a certain degree of education and read serious newspapers; nevertheless, he appreciated the gaulois wit.  Endowed with a logical mind, and that practical common sense which is the master quality of the industrial French bourgeois, he thought little, but clearly, and reached a decision only after careful consideration of the matter in hand.  He was of medium size, with a distinguished look, and was beginning to turn gray.

His wife, who was full of serious qualities, had also several faults.  She had a quick temper and a frankness that bordered upon violence.  She bore a grudge a long time.  She had once been pretty, but had now become too stout and too red; but in her neighborhood at Saint-Germain she still passed for a very beautiful woman, who exemplified health and an uncertain temper.

Their dissensions almost always began at breakfast, over some trivial matter, and they often continued all day and even until the following day.  Their simple, common, limited life imparted seriousness to the most unimportant matters, and every topic of conversation became a subject of dispute.  This had not been so in the days when business occupied their minds, drew their hearts together, and gave them common interests and occupation.

But at Saint-Germain they saw fewer people.  It had been necessary to make new acquaintances, to create for themselves a new world among strangers, a new existence devoid of occupations.  Then the monotony of loneliness had soured each of them a little; and the quiet happiness which they had hoped and waited for with the coming of riches did not appear.

One June morning, just as they were sitting down to breakfast, Bondel asked: 

“Do you know the people who live in the little red cottage at the end of the Rue du Berceau?”

Madame Bondel was out of sorts.  She answered: 

“Yes and no; I am acquainted with them, but I do not care to know them.”

“Why not?  They seem to be very nice.”

“Because—­”

“This morning I met the husband on the terrace and we took a little walk together.”

Seeing that there was danger in the air, Bendel added:  “It was he who spoke to me first.”

His wife looked at him in a displeased manner.  She continued:  “You would have done just as well to avoid him.”

“Why?”

“Because there are rumors about them.”

“What kind?”

“Oh! rumors such as one often hears!”

M. Bondel was, unfortunately, a little hasty.  He exclaimed: 

“My dear, you know that I abhor gossip.  As for those people, I find them very pleasant.”

She asked testily:  “The wife also?”

“Why, yes; although I have barely seen her.”