more than you believe, go ahead, my dear. Marie-Louise pronounces "morre" like the people from the South and Montmartre residents. And "my dear" continues:
— One fine evening, she, who until then had been rather... how shall I say, rather passive, showed herself to be... active! Ah! Sir, when I think about it, when I think about that night...!
— You still get shivers, I understand that.
— No, I still have back pain. And after that night, others followed, and mornings, and afternoons. She used all the furniture one after the other...
— What are you telling me!
— Yes, sir, the bed, the sofa, the chairs, the bear skin, even the dining table, yes sir... for dessert. I couldn't take it anymore... I didn't want to admit it... A man has his pride, doesn't he? But still, in the end, I feared for my health, and I told Yvette:
— You want to go to the South, my darling? Well, go... I'm not as selfish as you think... Go... I offer you the trip and the stay. Ah! Women, sir! You never really know them. Who would have believed it? Who would have believed it?
Yvette's friend gets up, pays, and leaves.
Marie-Louise twists herself. She repeats, pointing at the big boy:
— Would you have believed it? Would you have believed it?
And she explained to me:
— Not bad, huh, sir, Yvette's trick to get the South offered without losing her boyfriend? That man, he's crazy about her now...
VII
A "regular gentleman" dared to criticize Marie-Louise's outfit earlier. The pretty girl sharply retorted in colloquial language:
