Mr. Follenvie undertook again to convey the message, but he came down almost immediately.  The German, who knew human nature, had kicked him out of his room.  He meant to keep everybody as long as his wishes had not been complied with.

Then the vulgar temper of Madame Loiseau broke loose:—­“And yet we are not going to die of old age here!  Since it is that vixen’s trade to carry it on with all men, I think that she has no right to refuse one rather than another.  Imagine, she has taken all that she found in Rouen, even coachmen, yes, Madame, the coachman of the Prefecture; I know it for a fact, because he buys his wine of us.  And now that it is a question of getting us out of trouble, she is putting on virtuous airs, the drab!  I find that the Officer behaves very well.  Possibly he may have abstained for a long time, and here we are three of us whom he certainly would have preferred.  But no, he is satisfied with the girl who is public property.  He respects married women.  Think of it, he is the master here.  All that he had to do was to say:  ‘I want’ and he might have taken us by force, with the aid of his soldiers.”

The two other women shuddered slightly.  The eyes of pretty Madame Carre-Lamadon sparkled, and she grew a little pale as if she felt herself already taken by force by the officer.

The men who were arguing among themselves, came near them.  Loiseau, excited, wanted to deliver up that “miserable woman,” bound hand and foot, to the enemy.  But the Count, descended from three generations of Ambassadors, and endowed with the physique of a diplomat, was advocating more tactfulness and persuasion—­“We should persuade her”—­said he.

Then they conspired.

The women drew close to each other; the tone of their voices was lowered, and the discussion became general, each giving her opinion.  It was most correct, besides.  The ladies specially found delicate euphemisms, charming subtleties of expression to say the most shocking things.  A stranger would have understood nothing, so well were the precautions of language observed.  But as the thin veneer of pudor[*], with which every Society woman is provided, covers only the surface, they showed their real selves in this wretched adventure, and were as a matter of fact enjoying themselves immensely, feeling themselves in their element, handling love with the sensuousness of a gourmand cook who prepares supper for somebody else.

[*][Note from Brett:  I think this is an excellent, though unintentional, pun.  “Pudor” is Spanish for “shame,” but this meaning makes the sentence difficult to read (at best), although it does convey the intent.  I think that the word intended is “powder,” but left the original in case I am wrong]

Their gaiety came back of itself, so amusing after all did the whole incident seem to them.  The Count found rather risky witticisms, but so cleverly told that they provoked smiles.  In his turn Loiseau fired some broader jokes, which did not shock the listeners; and the thought brutally expressed by his wife preponderated in every one’s mind:  “Since it is her business, why should the girl refuse this man rather than another?”—­The pretty Mme. Carre-Lamadon seemed even inclined to think that in her place she would refuse this one less than any other.