'Marie, you no longer love me,' cried Warren. 'There was a time when you
did not look so coldly upon me when I ordered a bottle of white wine.'
The rest of the party took up his complaint, and all besought her not to
show too hard a heart to the bald and rubicund painter.
'_Mais si, je vous aime, Monsieur Warren,_' she cried, laughing, '_Je
vous aime tous, tous._'
She ran downstairs, amid the shouts of men and women, to give her orders.
'The other day the Chien Noir was the scene of a tragedy,' said Susie.
'Marie broke off relations with her lover, who is a waiter at Lavenue's,
and would have no reconciliation. He waited till he had a free evening,
and then came to the room downstairs and ordered dinner. Of course, she
was obliged to wait on him, and as she brought him each dish he
expostulated with her, and they mingled their tears.'
'She wept in floods,' interrupted a youth with neatly brushed hair and
fat nose. 'She wept all over our food, and we ate it salt with tears. We
besought her not to yield; except for our encouragement she would have
gone back to him; and he beats her.
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