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I suppose, because of the pleasure of the violin playing, which she
adored. She had even hired for that purpose a violinist from the
theatre. But when she cast a glance at me, she understood my feelings,
and concealed her impression. Then began the mutual trickery and deceit.
I smiled agreeably, pretending that all this pleased me extremely. He,
looking at my wife, as all debauches look at beautiful women, with an
air of being interested solely in the subject of conversation,--that is,
in that which did not interest him at all.
"She tried to seem indifferent. But my expression, my jealous or
false smile, which she knew so well, and the voluptuous glances of the
musician, evidently excited her. I saw that, after the first interview,
her eyes were already glittering, glittering strangely, and that, thanks
to my jealousy, between him and her had been immediately established
that sort of electric current which is provoked by an identity of
expression in the smile and in the eyes.
"
We talked, at the first interview, of music, of Paris, and of all sorts
of trivialities. He rose to go. Pressing his hat against his swaying
hip, he stood erect, looking now at her and now at me, as if waiting to
see what she would do. I remember that minute, precisely because it was
in my power not to invite him. I need not have invited him, and then
nothing would have happened. But I cast a glance first at him, then at
her. 'Don't flatter yourself that I can be jealous of you,' I thought,
addressing myself to her mentally, and I invited the other to bring his
violin that very evening, and to play with my wife. She raised her eyes
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