"Take my arm, and don't be afraid to lean on it."
Monléard succeeded, although suffering intensely, in reaching his carriage, which Cherami assisted him to enter, after putting the swords inside. Then, saluting his adversary, who thanked him again, Cherami walked away, saying:
"Delighted to have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance!"
Three weeks after the marriage of Fanny Gerbault and the brilliant Auguste Monléard, the exceedingly handsome salon of a house on Rue Neuve-des-Mathurins contained, about nine o'clock in the evening, a company in which, although small in numbers, we shall find several persons of our acquaintance.
First of all, this young woman seated on a causeuse, beside a lovely table of Chinese lacquer, and working carelessly upon a piece of embroidery, is the newly made bride, Fanny, now Madame Monléard, in a charming gown of the sort one wears at home, to receive a few friends; she has no other head-dress than her own hair, which is arranged with much taste, the back hair being braided and wound about the head, like a crown.
Marriage has not impaired the young woman's beauty; her complexion is fresh and rosy, her eyes gleam with greater animation, and about her lips plays a smile of satisfaction, almost of beatitude, except, however, when her eyes happen to fall upon a newspaper which lies on the table, open at the page containing the transactions on the Bourse, and the stock quotations. At such times, her brows contract slightly, and her lips close; but that feeling of vexation soon disappears, the charming Fanny turns her eyes elsewhere, and her face resumes its amiable and contented expression.
A short distance away, another young woman is sitting at the piano, turning over the leaves of a volume of music. It is Adolphine, Fanny's sister. You know already that her hair is not so black as her sister's, and that her eyes are a little smaller, which fact does not prevent Adolphine from being a charming person; above all, there is on her face a sweet and melancholy expression, which always attracts, and arouses interest. A little taller than her sister, Adolphine has a slender, elegant figure; her walk is always graceful. Pretty women have this peculiarity in common with cats, that there is in their slightest movements an indefinable fascination; and this quality is not the attribute of the most coquettish only, but equally of those in whom grace of movement is entirely natural.
For some time past, Adolphine's melancholy had almost become sadness; her eyes were often fixed on the ground, and she would sit for hours buried in thought, which, if one could judge by the expression of her features, was not concerned with pleasant memories. Suddenly, she would emerge from her abstraction, and, as if ashamed of having abandoned herself to her reveries, would glance hastily about, to see if anyone had noticed her; and would strive to smile, in order to conceal the thoughts with which her heart was occupied; but her smile was never very real, and her merriment was like her smile.
Beyond the piano was a card-table, at which four persons were playing the inevitable whist. First, there was a lady evidently on the wrong side of forty, but who had once been very pretty, and who still produced a brilliant effect by artificial light, thanks to an extremely careful toilet, in which were employed all those invaluable cosmetics which help to prevent a lady from appearing old. Furthermore, Madame de Mirallon—such was her name—wore diamonds of very great value at her neck and in her ears. But those who claim that diamonds embellish a woman are entirely mistaken; we should say simply that they enrich her; and, in this connection, we may well remember the remark of Apelles: "You make her rich, because you cannot make her beautiful."
At this lady's right was a man of about fifty years, with an intelligent and distinguished face, somewhat cold and reserved in manner, but unimpeachably courteous, even when, in the course of conversation, he indulged in a stinging retort. He spoke but little, however, and his dress and bearing were perfectly consonant with his age. He was Monsieur Clairval.
Opposite him was a young man, neither handsome nor ugly, but dressed with extreme care, and with a head of hair worthy to figure in a wig-maker's show-window. It should be said that the young dandy was the proud possessor of a forest of chestnut locks, a fertile field for the invention of a hair-dresser. Monsieur Anatole de Raincy—such was the young man's name—played cards in straw-colored gloves, moulded to a pair of tiny hands of which he seemed to be very proud, and which he kept always in evidence. To complete the portrait, we must add a small light chestnut moustache, eyeglasses, and a constant lisp in his speech.
The fourth whist player, who was the lady's partner, was a man about forty years old, a faded blonde, with a conceited and idiotic air; a doll's face, from which protruded a pair of great eyes which were always rolling from side to side with an astonished expression—an expression which never varied. He bowed whenever anyone spoke to him, and found a way to pay compliments to everybody, accompanying his speeches with a conventional smile, which he retained even when he was listening to others; all of which may afford you in anticipation an accurate idea of the ingenuousness of this individual, whose name was Batonnin.
An old beau, of at least sixty years, but who affected the dress, the gait, and all the manners of a young man, fluttered about the table, dancing attendance on the ladies; his face alone persisted in betraying his age, although its owner did his utmost to avoid the scrutiny of the curious. But his cheeks, which had fallen in on account of the loss of his teeth, a very long nose, purple at the end, and an assortment of wrinkles which streaked his temples, made it impossible for that face to create an illusion. As for the hair, it was of a fine, glossy black, which proved that he wore a wig.
Such was Monsieur le Comte de la Bérinière, a venerable dandy, who still possessed a handsome fortune, although he had consumed a portion of his means by living like a prince, and paying assiduous court to the fair sex. Monsieur de la Bérinière's great fault was his obstinate belief that he was still young and fascinating, and his consequent persistence in seeking to make conquests. However, being descended from an illustrious family, and having all the manners of a grand seigneur, the count, albeit he had not overmuch intelligence, had, at all events, the merit of being always amiable and cheerful; and, as we see, he had never chosen to meddle with any but the attractive features of life. We may add that he had never married.
The count left the whist table, and, approaching Madame Monléard, examined her embroidery.
"Ah! what pretty work that is you are doing, belle dame! Why, you seem to possess all the talents!"
"Mon Dieu! I haven't so very many!"
"Is it a rug you're making?"
"No; it's a design for a footstool."
"What a lucky dog Monléard is! He has married a treasure!"
"You exaggerate, monsieur le comte."
"No, I say what I think; and if I had known you earlier—— Oh! I know what I'd have done! Ah! Dieu!"
"What a sigh! Ha! ha! ha!"
"It makes you laugh to hear me sigh?"
"Why, what other effect should it have on me?"
"Ah! women are cruel sometimes. But, no matter! if I had known you before Monléard, I would have solicited the honor of making you Comtesse de la Bérinière."
"Oh! I am not joking. But fate willed otherwise. And I say again that Monléard is a lucky dog.—By the way, how is his arm?"
"It is improving slowly; he can't use it yet."
"It's a long while getting well.—And to think that that accident happened the very day after your wedding!"
"Yes, the next day."
"He fell on the stairs, I believe?"
"Yes, he slipped, and fell on his arm."
"For heaven's sake, Monsieur de la Bérinière, do come and advise my partner, Monsieur Batonnin. Upon my word, he's been making mistake after mistake!"
"It must be my pleasure in playing with you, madame, that distracts me," rejoined the little man with the protruding eyes, bowing to his partner.
"In that case, monsieur, moderate your pleasure, I entreat you, and don't trump my kings any more."
The count regretfully quitted the young bride and returned to the card-table, saying:
"But monsieur doesn't need my advice; he plays very well."
"Oh! you are too good, monsieur!"
"I am well aware that Monsieur de la Bérinière prefers to pay court to the ladies rather than watch the game!" rejoined Madame de Mirallon, in a tone which she intended to be ironical, but in which there was a slight tincture of mortification; "but he can afford to spare us a few moments."
"Whatever is agreeable to you, I will do, madame."
"Indeed! But it did not suit your pleasure to join our game?"
"Madame, if you would kindly attend to your play——"
"Oh! Monsieur Clairval is so severe!"
"No, madame; but we don't usually talk when we're playing whist."
"Mon Dieu! if one must never say a word—— Ah! Monsieur Batonnin, that is too cruel! Don't you remember my signal?"
"I beg your pardon, madame; but no man is required to do the impossible."
"I don't understand proverbs."
"That means," observed the count, with a laugh, "that monsieur has no club."
"That makes no difference; his game was to play one."
"Let us put our cards on the table, and play that way; it will be simpler," interposed Monsieur Clairval.
"I had thutht ath lief; I played that way onth, a three-handed game with a dummy."
"Monsieur de Raincy, I might justly complain, as well as madame; but I see that this is an evening of absent-mindedness."
"Why, what did I do wrong. I don't thee——"
"Oh! I shall tell you later."
"I flatter mythelf that I play a fine game of whitht."
"You are quite right!"
"Well, Monsieur Batonnin! well! what are you thinking about?"
"I thought you would trump, madame."
"We've lost the odd—and it's your fault."
"We have won."
"Now for the rubber!"
"I beg you, Monsieur de la Bérinière, stand behind Monsieur Batonnin.—Oh! he doesn't listen to me! he has gone to pay his court to Mademoiselle Adolphine. What a butterfly that man is, and when will he sober down?"
"It seems to me," observed Monsieur Clairval, with a smile, "that it would be rather hard for him to change his habits now."
The count had, in fact, approached Adolphine, who was still pretending to be absorbed in the music-books, and who apparently did not see that anyone was by her side.
"You are fond of music, mademoiselle?"
"Ah!—I beg your pardon. Yes, monsieur, very."
"Do you sing?"
"A little."
"Young ladies are never willing to admit that they sing more than a little. I don't refer to you, mademoiselle. I am told that your voice is very sweet and true."
"Your informant flatters me, monsieur."
"Shall we have the pleasure of hearing you this evening?"
"I don't know at all, monsieur. But, if it will gratify my sister——"
"Your sister, of course; but the whole company as well."
"Oh! whist players care but little for singing."
"You are more or less right; that game makes savages of people—ferocious savages, I may say. Whist enthusiasts close the door when there is singing in the next room. I verily believe, that, if you told them the house was burning down, they'd insist on finishing their rub before making their escape."
"You see that it would be very unkind of me to sing."
"Pardon me, I am not playing; and what do you care if——"
"Monsieur de la Bérinière, in the name of your ancestors, come and show Monsieur Batonnin how to play; it's very important! We are playing the rub, and I don't want to lose it through my partner's misplay."
"That Madame de Mirallon is a terrible creature, really! Ah! when women grow old, they gain in exactingness what they lose in attractions; and the compensation isn't sufficient."
Having indulged in this muttered reflection, the count returned to his station behind Monsieur Batonnin; and Madame de Mirallon bestowed a long and searching glance upon him as she said:
"It's very hard to keep you, now!"
And the word now brought a smile to the lips of Monsieur Clairval, who said to his partner:
"Come, Monsieur de Raincy, we must stand to our guns; we are playing against three."
Adolphine left the piano and sat down beside her sister.
"I am sure that you are annoyed, Fanny, because your husband doesn't come home."
"I? Mon Dieu! I wasn't thinking about him at all. If he stays away, it is probably because he has business to attend to. You don't understand business, you see, Adolphine; you don't know that, if you want to make a lot of money, you must sometimes deprive yourself of a little pleasure."
"No, it's true, I don't understand money matters; but I thought that two people just married could not be happy apart, that they must be horribly bored when they're not together."
"Oh! my dear girl, there's reason in everything. And then, we have plenty of time to be together."
"Still, when you marry for love—and Monsieur Monléard certainly seemed to be in love with you—— Is that all over already?"
"Why—no—but when two people are once married, they're no longer like two lovers. You'll find that out some day, my little sister! I still call you little, although you're taller than I."
"Ah! I know that I could never love as placidly as you do!—I was afraid that your husband might be angry with you on account of that duel."
"Auguste has too much good sense and breeding to charge me with the folly and extravagance of another, as a crime. It's not my fault that another man was in love with me!"
"Oh! that poor Gustave! He did love you so dearly!"
"Oh, yes! I advise you to pity him! He behaved nobly, didn't he? To go shouting jeremiads in the street, and end by sending someone to fight in his place! Fie! it was shameful!"
"Fanny, you judge Gustave too harshly; do you impute it to him as a crime, that he didn't insult your husband? Oh! he probably would have done it, if his uncle hadn't dragged him away, almost by force, from that restaurant, where he absolutely insisted on speaking to you."
"How do you know all that?"
"Because it was I who sent word to Monsieur Grandcourt that his nephew was at the restaurant where the wedding was being celebrated."
"Oh! yes, so you told me. That fellow wanted to make a scene—and by what right? Was I obliged to marry him, I should like to know?"
"You allowed him to believe that you loved him."
"Nonsense! because a woman listens to the soft things these men say to her, because she smiles when they sigh, they instantly assume that she adores them. A fine position he offered me, didn't he? Three thousand francs a year—magnificent!"
"If you had really loved him, you wouldn't have cared about his wealth."
"Oh! I'm not romantic like you. With Auguste, I have a coupé at my orders, and I find it very pleasant. I tell you again, your Monsieur Gustave is an idiot!"
"Ah! Fanny, it's wicked for you to talk like that; to treat him so, just because he loved you sincerely."
"Much I care about his love! His behavior was none the less blamable. What excuse had he for sending that tall ruffian to insult me when I left the ball—which, of course, compelled Auguste to fight with the fellow?"
"I would take my oath that Monsieur Gustave never told that person, with whom he had dined, to say a single insulting word to you. Besides, Monsieur Grandcourt took his nephew away long before you left the ball. That man, who presumed to address an offensive remark to you, was drunk; he had already had trouble with some of the gentlemen, for he insisted on offering his arm to the ladies when they arrived for the ball."
"Then, my dear girl, you will agree that your Monsieur Gustave has some very low acquaintances?"
Adolphine made no reply, but sadly lowered her eyes. A moment later, her sister continued: "What surprises me is that I haven't once seen Monsieur Gustave, or met him anywhere, since my wedding. For a man so dead in love, not to try to see me at my window, at least once—— You see that he is consoled, so soon."
"He is not in Paris. His uncle forced him to start for Spain the very next day."
"Ah! he's in Spain? that makes a difference! But you seem to know all about him. From whom, pray?"
"Father met Monsieur Grandcourt not long ago, and he told him that his nephew was in Spain."
"Ah! someone has just rung."
"It's your husband, no doubt."
"If it's he, we shall see him in a moment."
It was not the master of the house who entered the salon, but Monsieur Gerbault, who, like an affectionate father, began by kissing his daughters.
"Good-evening, father," said Fanny. "Why didn't you come to dinner, with Adolphine? My husband didn't like it."
"I couldn't, my dear child. Adolphine must have told you that I had promised a gentleman from the provinces——"
"A fine reason! You should have sent your gentleman from the provinces off somewhere to dine by himself."
"No, when I have promised, I keep my promise. Where is your husband, by the way?"
"He had somebody to see to-night. He'll be at home soon."
"There! we have lost! I knew it!" cried Madame de Mirallon. "Ah! Monsieur Batonnin, I will never forgive you those six counters!"
"But, madame, I am well paid by the pleasure of having been your partner."
"Luckily, Monsieur Gerbault is here. He knows how to play! Come and take a hand, Monsieur Gerbault."
"I do not care to play any more," said De Raincy; "when I have played two rubberth, I have had enough; it maketh my head ache."
As he spoke, the nattily-gloved youth left the card-table and joined the two sisters.
"Were you at the Bourse to-day, Monsieur de Raincy?" inquired Fanny.
"Thertainly, madame; I go there every day."
"How were the Orléans and Lyon Railway shares?"
"Very thtrong, madame."
"Do you think they'll go higher?"
"Why, yeth, I think tho; unleth they go down."
"That's rather a vague opinion."
"I never have any definite opinion. At the Bourth one ith tho often mithtaken! But your huthband can keep you pothted better than I can. He ith alwayth there; he theemth to be interethted in thome big dealth."
"Auguste? True, but he doesn't like to have me ask him how the market is going; he declares that women know nothing about it; that they ought to attend to spending the money, not to making it."
"I fanthy that ith the general rule among the ladieth."
"I think differently. Oh! if I had been a man, I would have been a stock-broker!"
"Do you mean it! There are thome of them who have to put up with lotheth. Ah! here'th our dear Monléard!"
Fanny's husband had just arrived; he wore his right arm in a sling; he was very pale, his face was careworn, and his eyes almost sombre. However, finding guests in his salon, he instantly assumed the affable manner which a host should always display. Young De Raincy hastened to go to shake hands with him.
"Good-evening! dear boy."
"Good-evening! Anatole. Messieurs, mesdames, your servant!"
The Comte de la Bérinière also shook hands with Monléard, crying:
"Ah! here's the lucky man! the fortunate husband! So you still offer your left hand, eh?"
"What would you have! it's not my fault that I can't use my right."
"Why the devil do you want to fall on the stairs? You're too careless—and the day after your wedding, too! I'll stake my head you were running to your wife?"
"Just so!" Auguste replied, with a glance at Fanny, who simply smiled, without raising her eyes from her embroidery frame.
"I was sure of it! It was his haste, his love for you, belle dame, which caused his accident. Ah! your eyes are very dangerous! But, after all, as love caused the destruction of Troy, it may well make a man slip on the stairs."
"Monsieur de la Bérinière, pray come here a moment."
"Gad! Madame de Mirallon can't seem to get enough of me this evening. It's a conspiracy! Can she have conceived the idea of monopolizing me?"
And the count, who had made these remarks in an undertone, added aloud:
"But, madame, I see that Monsieur Batonnin is no longer your partner; Monsieur Gerbault has taken his place, so you can have no reason to complain now."
"Ah! what a cruel man you are! I wanted to show you an extraordinary hand."
"Mon Dieu! she has shown me her hand often enough!" muttered the count, turning toward young De Raincy; "I don't care to see it any more."
Auguste, having shaken hands with his father-in-law, and said a word or two to the different guests, went up to his wife and tapped her gently on the cheek.
"You are making me a piece of furniture, I see, madame," he said; "that is well done of you!"
"Oh! that would take too long," rejoined Fanny, looking up at her husband as she would have looked at the merest acquaintance; "it's a stool, that's all."
"Mon Dieu! what are you doing with that newspaper spread out before you?"
"I am posting myself as to the prices of stocks, my dear."
"That's a most entertaining occupation for a woman."
As he spoke, Auguste took the paper, crumpled it in his hands, and tossed it into a corner of the salon; Fanny watched him while he did it, then glanced at her sister, and said under her breath:
"You see, he doesn't want me to look at the market reports. But I shall look at some other paper—that's all."
"Does your arm still pain you, brother?" Adolphine asked Monléard, having observed his thoughtful expression.
"No, little sister, no. I thank you for being good enough to take some interest in it. There are people who take more interest in the rise and fall of stocks than in the wound I received; and yet——"
He paused, as if he were afraid of saying too much; but Adolphine had fully grasped the significance of his words, and she whispered to her sister:
"Your husband is vexed because you didn't ask him about his wound."
"Let me alone, pray! Haven't I seen my husband to-day? I fancy that the condition of his arm hasn't changed in a few hours."
"No matter; it isn't nice of you not to show more interest; for, after all, it was on your account that that duel took place."
"Oh! I beg you, Adolphine, don't talk to me like that; you set my nerves on edge! For several days, my husband has been in a very disagreeable mood; as I cannot be the cause of it, I don't worry about it in the least; indeed, I even pretend not to notice it."
"If I were in your place, I would ask him the cause of it."
"Oh! I should be very sorry if I did! My gentleman is capricious, it seems; so much the worse for him!"
"If I am not mistaken, you promised to sing for us, mademoiselle," said Monsieur de la Bérinière, who had once more escaped from Madame de Mirallon and hastened to Adolphine's side.
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, if it will give you any pleasure, I will gladly sing; but it will disturb the whist."
"Sing away!" said Monsieur Gerbault; "we will stuff our ears."
"Thanks, papa!"
"There's a father who doesn't say what he thinks, I am sure."
While Adolphine took her place at the piano, young Anatole said to Monléard:
"Ith it true that Morithel hath run away?"
"The devil! And he'th carried off thix hundred thouthand francth, they thay."
"Something like that."
"You had thome buthineth relathionth with him; haven't you lotht anything by him?"
"No—a trifle—some thirty thousand francs or so."
"A trifle like that would embarrath me thadly! To be thure, I'm not a capitalitht like you."
Auguste bit his lips and took a seat by the piano. Adolphine sang a lovely romanza by Nadaud. Her voice was sweet and well modulated; in a word, it was a sympathetic voice, and, furthermore, its possessor had an agreeable habit of pronouncing distinctly the words she sang; which increased twofold the pleasure of those who listened to her.
Auguste's face lighted up a little. Young Anatole ceased to gaze at his hands; the count seemed fascinated, and did not once remove his eyes from the singer. At last, Madame de Mirallon exclaimed:
"It's your play, Monsieur Batonnin; do, for heaven's sake, attend to the game!"
"A thousand pardons, madame; I was listening to the singing."
"But we are not singing, monsieur!"
"Thank God!" muttered Monsieur Clairval.
"What's that! Why did you say: 'Thank God!' Monsieur Clairval?"
"Because, if we were all singing, madame, we should not have the pleasure of hearing mademoiselle."
"You see that I am disturbing the game," said Adolphine.
"No, no; pray go on, mademoiselle! As if people could play whist for two minutes without a dispute! You are the pretext at this moment, that's all."
Adolphine continued to sing. The game of whist came to an end, and Madame de Mirallon lost again. She left the table in a pet, exclaiming:
"I certainly will give up playing whist!"
"Do you know my favorite game?" said Monsieur Gerbault; "it's bézique."
"Fie, fie! a messroom game!"
"I don't know anything about that; but piquet is a messroom game, too, which doesn't prevent its being a very fine game. I've heard people say of lansquenet: 'It's a footman's game!' the same thing has been said of écarté—but that doesn't prevent those games from being played in the salons. For my part, I believe in playing the game that amuses us, without disturbing ourselves about its origin."
"I am wild over bézique, too," cried Monsieur de la Bérinière; "and, if you will allow me, Monsieur Gerbault, I shall take great pleasure in playing a game with you."
"Whenever you choose, monsieur le comte, you will be welcome."
"That's a game I am very fond of, too," said Monsieur Batonnin.
"I am not thure whether I know it, but I think not."
"Very well, messieurs," said Fanny; "the next time, we'll have a bézique table for those who like it.—How is it with you, Auguste; do you play it?"
"I? What? what game is that?" replied Monléard, who had not listened to the conversation.
"Bézique."
"No. Oh! yes, I played it yesterday."
"My son-in-law is distraught this evening."
They talked a few moments more, then all the guests took leave of the young husband and wife. But, as she went away, Adolphine could not resist the desire to say to her sister, in an undertone:
"Do be more affectionate with your husband. He is unhappy, I assure you."
"And I assure you," rejoined Fanny, "that that's none of my affair; as if a woman must be forever worrying about her husband's looks! That would not be a very entertaining occupation!"
More than a fortnight had elapsed since the Monléard's whist party, at which Adolphine had sung several romanzas. But her sweet voice had made a deep impression upon the Comte de la Bérinière, also upon young Anatole de Raincy; it had even caused a quickening of the heart-beats of Monsieur Batonnin, the gentleman who played whist so poorly, but who was said to have a much clearer comprehension of business, which, indeed, was his profession, for he held himself out as a business agent.
Adolphine was alone in a small salon, much less sumptuous than her sister's, but very comfortable none the less. I need not say that there was a piano in it: that has become an indispensable article of furniture; we see them even in the domiciles of concierges who have daughters at the Conservatoire.
Adolphine held a book in her hand, but she was not reading it; she was musing, and her face still wore a sad expression. Upon what subject can a maiden of eighteen muse? Everybody will conclude that her heart was engrossed by a tender sentiment. And yet, no man had ever paid court to Adolphine, no one had ever observed any youthful exquisite paying assiduous attention to her. But all love affairs do not begin in the same way; they do not all follow the beaten paths; there are secret, unavowed sentiments which those who inspire them are very far from suspecting; and when it is a virtuous maiden's heart in which one of those profound attachments takes root, she suffers all the more because of the pains she takes to conceal it.
Adolphine passed her hand across her brow, as if to brush away the thoughts that made her sad; she took up her book again, and for a few minutes tried to read; then placed it beside her, saying to herself:
"It's of no use for me to try to distract my thoughts—I cannot do it. I used to be so fond of reading! This book is intensely interesting, they say, and I have no idea what I'm reading; nothing interests me now! even music no longer has any charm for me; my poor piano is neglected; everything is a bore. Mon Dieu! shall I always be like this? Oh! no, that would be ghastly! It will pass away; it must pass away! Father has already noticed several times that I seemed sad, and it worries him; he thinks that I am sick. Oh! I don't want to make him uneasy. But it isn't my fault; I do all that I possibly can to drive out of my mind the memory of—that person—and it keeps coming back. And yet, I know perfectly well that there's no sense in it—that I'm a little fool. It's of no use for me to argue—I cannot cure myself!"
The door of the salon opened; it was Monsieur Gerbault. The girl hurriedly wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks, and strove to assume a smiling expression, as she went to meet her father.
"I have come to tell you, Adolphine, that we shall have two guests at dinner to-day."
"You are very late in telling me, father. But, no matter! I will go and tell Madeleine."
"I couldn't tell you any earlier; I met Monsieur Batonnin only a moment ago. He said: 'I am going to play a game of bézique with you this evening.' I said: 'Come and dine with us, informally.'"
"Monsieur Batonnin! I don't care much for that young man."
"Still he is very gallant—and so courteous."
"He is forever paying compliments—it's a horrible bore! And then, he always has a smile on his face. Tell me, papa, is that natural? Can there be anyone in the world who is always satisfied and happy?"
"I should say that it was rather difficult. However, there are optimists who look at the bright side of everything."
"For my part, I believe that those people are not sincere, that they simply make a point of concealing what they think.—Who is the other one, father?"
"Monsieur Clairval."
"I am very fond of him; he isn't complimentary, at all events, and yet that doesn't prevent his being agreeable. He has plenty of wit, and doesn't flaunt it in everybody's face. I do like that so much—wit that doesn't parade itself!"
"But, my child, if one has wit without showing it, I should say that it was precisely equivalent to having none at all."
"Oh! it always leaks out, father, here and there, even if it's only in the smile."
"I just missed inviting Monsieur de la Bérinière, too."
"Oh! papa, how fortunate it is that you missed it!"
"Why so, pray? The count is very pleasant. He's a very distinguished man in all respects."
"I don't say that he isn't, but for a count we should have had to make preparations; and then, he has been coming to see us quite often of late."
"And that bores you?"
"It doesn't amuse me overmuch."
"My dear girl, I hoped, by inviting a friend or two to dinner, to brighten you up, to give you a little diversion; for you have looked as if you weren't feeling well for some time. Tell me, are you sick?"
"Why, no, dear father; I am not sick, I am not in pain. I assure you that I am in my ordinary condition."
"Good! so much the better! Still, it seems to me that you're a little changed."
"Oh! you know one has days—when the autumn comes.—And you didn't invite Fanny and her husband, while you were in the mood?"
"Yes, I did. I was going to their house when I met Auguste. But they can't come; they are going to a grand dinner. Nothing but festivities, gorgeous parties!"
"All the better! it amuses Fanny; she's so fond of all that sort of thing!"
"True, true! Fanny is leading the life she used to dream of; she ought to be happy. But it seems to me that her husband has been in rather a gloomy mood lately; he always has such a startled, preoccupied manner; and when you speak to him, he hardly listens to you."
"I think that you're mistaken, father; Fanny's husband isn't of an expansive nature; his manner is cold, a little haughty, perhaps."
"Yes, I know it; but he likes to cut a brilliant figure, to dazzle other people by his magnificence; and that sometimes carries a man too far."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I have been told that he is speculating heavily on the Bourse."
"If he has the means to do it, it's all right; he must know what he's about."
"Batonnin was telling me just now that Monléard must have lost a great deal of money by the failure—or the flight, I don't quite know which it was—of one Morissel."
"Ah! Monsieur Batonnin told you that? I notice that disagreeable news is generally brought by smiling faces and honeyed words."
"I prefer to believe that my son-in-law's fortune has not sustained such a serious loss."
"After all, father, in business a man can't always make money, can he?"
"Hoity-toity! here you are talking almost as well as your sister.—By the way, I met Monsieur Grandcourt too."
"Monsieur Grandcourt?"
"Well, well! what's the matter now? You're as pale as a ghost. Don't you feel well?"
"Yes, father. I am all right, I promise you. What did Monsieur Grandcourt have to say?"
"Oh! he doesn't speculate! He's a prudent, intelligent man. He does an excellent business. His house is prosperous and is extending its connections every day."
"And his nephew—that poor Monsieur Gustave—did he tell you anything about him?"
"But when is he coming back? If he should come to see us—would that annoy you?"
"My dear Adolphine, in the first place, after what has happened, it's not at all likely that Gustave will ever come to our house again. That young man was in love with your sister. For a moment, he hoped that she would accept him for her husband, then his hopes were disappointed. He saw Fanny take Monléard in preference to him, and he must have suffered doubly—in his love and in his self-esteem. What do you suppose he will come to our house again for?—in search of memories, of regrets? No, our company would have no charms for him now."
"Ah! so you think, father, that our company would no longer be agreeable to him? But he was much attached to you."
"As the father of the young lady whose husband he wished to be; I know all about that."
"But, still, if he should come here, it seems to me that it would be very discourteous to send him away, to receive him unkindly."
"Without being unkind to him, you could easily make him understand that his presence here may be very embarrassing; that he may meet your sister and her husband here; that Monléard may have learned of his love for Fanny; and that it would be better, therefore, for him not to come again. But, I say once more, you will not have to tell him all that; for I am very certain, myself, that he has no intention of coming here."
"Poor Gustave!" said Adolphine to herself, as she left the room; "father doesn't want him to come here any more! What, in heaven's name, would he say if he knew about that duel? Then it would surely be: 'I don't want to see him in my house again!'—Luckily he thinks, like everybody else, that Auguste's injury was the result of a fall on the stairs. But I suppose father is right, and Gustave will never come here; I shall never see him again!"
The girl put her handkerchief to her eyes once more, then went in search of Madeleine, her maid, a young girl from Picardy, who did not know Gustave, because she did not enter Monsieur Gerbault's service until after his eldest daughter's marriage. Madeleine was very fond of her mistress; she saw that she was unhappy, and often said to her:
"Mon Dieu! mamzelle, when shall I see you happy and gay, as you ought to be at your age?"
"Why, I am very happy, Madeleine," replied Adolphine, forcing back a sigh. Whereat the Picarde murmured, with a shrug of her shoulders:
"Oh! nenni! I can see well enough that you always have something inside that keeps you from laughing!"
The guests were punctual; the dinner was voted excellent. Monsieur Batonnin ate for four, but was not thereby prevented from praising each dish, adding compliments for the host, for the young lady of the house, and even for the cook; if there had been a cat or a dog, it is probable that it would have come in for its share in that distribution of flattering speeches.
At dessert, the conversation fell upon the newly married couple, Monsieur Gerbault expressing his regret that they had been unable to come to dinner.
"Yes, they make a charming couple," said Batonnin, with his inevitable smile. "Can Monsieur Monléard use his right arm now?"
"Yes; it is entirely well. It took a long while, for a mere fall on the stairs."
"Ha! ha! a fall on the stairs! Ha! ha! Monsieur Gerbault says that as if he really believed it. Ha! ha!"
"What do you mean by that?" retorted Monsieur Gerbault, who understood neither Monsieur Batonnin's words nor the malicious tone in which he uttered them; whereas Adolphine changed color, fearing that her father might learn the truth. Monsieur Clairval alone seemed indifferent to what was going on; but he glanced at the soft-spoken guest with an expression which said plainly enough:
"In my opinion, that was a very stupid remark of yours."
Monsieur Batonnin smiled on, as he replied:
"Come, come, Monsieur Gerbault, you know perfectly well that your son-in-law's wound was caused by a sword-thrust, which he received in a duel. He preferred not to tell people that he had fought, especially because—because—— I know the reason."
"Why, monsieur, that isn't at all probable!" cried Adolphine. "If my sister's husband had fought a duel, I should certainly know it, and——"
"Why so, my dear young lady? If he has concealed it from Monsieur Gerbault, he may well have concealed it from you, too."
"Be kind enough, monsieur, to explain yourself more clearly," said Monsieur Gerbault, whose face had become very serious; "if my son-in-law has had a duel, I knew nothing about it, I tell you again; now, if you have any definite information on the subject, be good enough to impart it to me; it seems to me that I ought to be at least as well informed as a stranger, upon such a matter."
"Mon Dieu! my dear monsieur, I learned of it by chance two days ago. I met Madame Delbois, who was at your daughter's wedding, and who left the ball at the same time that she did. So, as you will see, they were in the hall at the same time, waiting for their carriages."
"I don't see yet what connection there is between that fact and a duel."
"One moment—we are coming to it. While the ladies were waiting, a person of unprepossessing aspect came out of the restaurant. He was just behind Madame Delbois when she said to one of her friends: 'There goes the bride; she's going away early.'—Thereupon, this person—of unprepossessing aspect—had the effrontery to exclaim in a loud voice—— But, really, if you know nothing of the episode, I am afraid that, if I go any further, I may say something that it would be unpleasant for you to hear."
"If what you have to tell Monsieur Gerbault is likely to be unpleasant for him to hear," interposed Monsieur Clairval, "it seems to me, Monsieur Batonnin, that you would have done much better to say nothing at all on the subject. As Monsieur Monléard concealed the fact that he had had a duel, it is to be presumed that he feared that it would displease his father-in-law; and, frankly, it isn't decent of you to come here and volunteer to tell something that nobody asked you to tell."
"I beg your pardon, Monsieur Gerbault just asked me to tell him what I knew."
"Go on, Monsieur Batonnin, finish your story, I beg; what did this person say, whom Madame Delbois overheard?"
"Your son-in-law heard him, too, and that is what led to the challenge. However, I simply repeat what Madame Delbois told me. I wasn't there; I was dancing at that moment."
"Well, Monsieur Batonnin, this man said——?"
"I give you my word of honor, my dear Monsieur Gerbault, that it gives me the greatest pain to repeat his detestable words. I am very sorry that I mentioned it; I did it quite innocently——"
"Oh! finish, for heaven's sake!"
"That man exclaimed, when he caught sight of the bride: 'Ah! there's the faithless Fanny!'"
Monsieur Clairval began to laugh, and Monsieur Gerbault deemed it the wiser plan to do the same; Adolphine decided to imitate them, and Monsieur Batonnin, who expected to produce a startling effect, looked very sheepish when he saw them all laughing.
"Ah! that strikes you as amusing, does it?" he faltered.
"Mon Dieu! Monsieur Batonnin, with all your hesitation and holding back, I thought that you were going to tell us something scandalous. Frankly, it seems to me that those words, from the mouth of a man who was drunk, no doubt, and whose tongue may have been twisted, did not deserve such a long preamble——"
"Your son-in-law didn't think as you do, apparently; for he rushed after the fellow, and they exchanged cards."
"Did Madame Delbois see that also?"
"How does it happen that that lady, who is evidently very fond of talking, has not delivered herself before this of things that took place more than six weeks ago?"
"That's easily explained: she left Paris for the country the next morning, and didn't return until the day before yesterday."
"Oh! you needn't tell me that!—Come, let us go and have some coffee."
"Look you, my dear Batonnin," said Monsieur Clairval, laughing heartily, "your news fell rather flat. It's a pity, isn't it?"
Batonnin bit his lips, and, strange to say, did not smile.
They had just finished their coffee, when the Comte de la Bérinière was announced.
"I come early, you see. I made haste to get rid of the person with whom I dined," said the count, kissing Adolphine's hand, who seemed little flattered by the attention.
"That is very good of you; in return, we will have a game of bézique for your benefit."
"Oh! by and by; I will venture to request mademoiselle to give us a little music first. When one has once heard her sing, one has but one desire, and that is to hear her again."
"If it will give you any pleasure, monsieur—— I have not enough talent to require to be asked more than once."
"That is to say, you are always charming."
"The rest of us, who are not music-mad like Monsieur de la Bérinière, will play a three-handed game of bézique. You play, don't you, Clairval?"
"I do whatever you please."
"And you, Monsieur Batonnin?"
"It will be no less flattering than agreeable to me to have the privilege of playing with you. But I think that three-handed bézique is less interesting than two-handed."
"I beg your pardon; it is even more interesting."
Adolphine took her place at the piano, and the count seated himself beside it, darting burning glances at the girl, which she did her utmost to avoid.
Batonnin, who had taken a seat at the card-table, kept turning his head to look toward the piano, in order to see what was going on there, and to try to hear what was being said.
"Shall we play with four packs?"
"Yes; but we must take out two eights, so that the cards will come out even at the end."
"Very good; and how many cards do you deal?"
"Eight to each."
"Some people deal nine."
"That makes it too easy."
"What's the game?"
"Fifteen hundred."
"And the stakes?"
"Whatever you please, messieurs; what shall it be?"
"We don't want to ruin ourselves; say, two francs each."
"Two francs it is."
"I have seen people play for five hundred francs a game," said Batonnin.
"The deuce! that's flying rather high. But when a man's very rich——"
"Oh! it isn't always the richest men who play for the biggest stakes—rather, those who want to pass themselves off for millionaires, and who are in need of money."
"Our excellent Monsieur Batonnin, with all his air of indifference, seems to observe everything."
"I? Oh! dear me, no! I say that because I've heard someone else say it."
"I declare four aces!"
"That's a good beginning."
"I remember now that it's Monsieur Monléard whom I have seen play bézique for five hundred francs a game."
"My son-in-law? Oh! you must be mistaken; he doesn't play so high as that."
"I beg a thousand pardons, but it was he. There's nothing remarkable about that, for he plays whist at his club for a hundred francs a point."
"He has assured me that he doesn't go to his club now."
"I have that fact from someone who played with him, less than a week ago."
"Come, Monsieur Batonnin, its your turn; pray attend to the game."
"I am attending, my dear Monsieur Gerbault; I am paying the closest attention. Ah! that's a very pretty thing Mademoiselle Adolphine is singing!"
"Double bézique!"
"There, you have let Monsieur Clairval make five hundred!"
"I couldn't prevent him, could I?"
"Certainly you could: there were only three tricks left, and you had two aces of trumps."
"Well! that makes only two tricks."
"I would have taken the third with my ace."
"Ah! so you think we could have prevented monsieur from counting his five hundred?"
"That's plain enough. I don't see that you're any stronger at this game than at whist."
"I certainly wouldn't play for five hundred francs a game, like your son-in-law! But I didn't know that there was any skill in bézique; I thought it was all luck."
"You see that it isn't! Indeed, any game can be played well or ill."
"Even lotto?"
"Certainly, you can forget to count."
Adolphine was singing a second selection, when Anatole de Raincy was announced.
The arrival of the young man with the lisp interrupted the music, and seemed greatly to annoy Monsieur de la Bérinière, who decided thereupon to visit the card-table. The game was finished, and Monsieur Clairval had won.
"Take my place," said Monsieur Gerbault to the count.
"Thanks, but I never play bézique with more than two."
"Play with Monsieur Batonnin, then; I will play a game of chess with Clairval, if it's agreeable to him."
"Anything is agreeable to me."
"Unless Monsieur de Raincy would like to play whist with a dummy."
"Oh! I thank you, but I don't care about playing; I much prefer to thing with Mademoithelle Adolphine, if that ith agreeable to her."
"It will give me great pleasure, monsieur."
"I have brought a few thongth, which I thing pathably—tholoth and dueth.—You play everything at thight, I know?"
"I will try, at all events, monsieur; and if they're not too hard——"
"Here'th the aria from La Dame Blanche. I can thing that; it ith in the range of my voith."
"Very good! I will play your accompaniment."
"If that young man sings as he talks," muttered Batonnin, with an affable smile at the count, who had taken his place opposite him, "it will produce a strange effect."
"He would do much better to let us listen to Mademoiselle Adolphine."
"Oh! yes, she has a voice——"
"Shall we play for two thousand?"
"That goes to the heart, monsieur."
"And we play with four packs."
"Very well.—But there are some men who have a perfect mania for singing."
"And who often sing false—as, for instance—— I declare four queens!"
While these gentlemen played, Anatole shouted at the top of his voice:
"'Come, lady fair; I await thee, I await thee, I await thee!'"
"That is horrible!" said the count.
"It sounds like the hissing of a railroad train when it stops."
"I have a sequence!"
"It seems that we are not to see Madame Monléard and her husband this evening?"
"No; they have gone to some grand affair.—I declare a single bézique!"
"Ah! Monléard doesn't propose that his little wife shall be bored; they are going to parties all the time."
"Yes; if only it will last.—I declare four kings—eighty!"
"And why shouldn't it last?—Mon Dieu! how that fellow makes my ears ache with his 'I await thee! I await thee!'—I am sorry for Mademoiselle Adolphine."
"Haven't you heard, monsieur le comte,—a simple marriage in diamonds,—that Monsieur Monléard was speculating on the Bourse in a—another marriage, clubs this time—in a terrific way?"
"Faith! no.—Why, I am not counting at all. It's that infernal singer's fault!"
"I have been told for a fact that he has lost a lot of money lately."
"We must never believe more than half of what we're told, you know."
"Double bézique!"
"Deuce take it! how you are beating me! Ah! they're singing a duet now; we shall hear Mademoiselle Adolphine, at all events. If she could only drown that fellow's voice!"
"I have made eleven hundred on this deal."
"And I a hundred and twenty. I am a long way behind. Do we count the fifteen hundred?"
"To be sure; when you get three béziques, they count fifteen hundred. But, in order to count them, you must still have the first two in hand."
"Yes, yes, I know that. What is it they're singing now? Something else from La Dame Blanche, I think."
"It's your play, monsieur le comte."
"Yes, so it is; I beg your pardon. It's that man's voice that confuses me, or rather stuns me. Oh! what a squealer! Poor girl! she has a stock of patience."
"I declare a royal marriage!"
"You are counting all the time, Monsieur Batonnin; you are very lucky to be able to attend to your game."
"I try not to listen.—Single bézique!"
It was difficult not to hear the young singer, who at that moment was shouting, with all the force of his lungs:
"'Thith hand, thith hand tho lovely!'"
At last, the duet being at an end, Adolphine declared that she was tired, and left the piano.
"I can well believe that she's tired!" said Monsieur de la Bérinière; "she might well be, for less than that. To play that fellow's accompaniments—to sing with him! what a wicked task!"
"I have won, monsieur le comte!"
"Very good! give me my revenge. I can pay more attention to the game, now that I don't hear that hissing voice; he's a veritable serpent, is that young man."
But Monsieur de Raincy had seated himself beside Adolphine, and he talked to her while the others played. Naturally, they spoke in undertones, in order not to disturb the players. This conversation, of which he could not catch a single word, seemed to annoy the count even more than the music; and Batonnin made the most of his opponent's distraction and misplays, while saying to him in a wheedling tone:
"Monsieur le comte isn't in luck to-night.—I declare a sequence!"
"It's true, I am absent-minded.—Well, Mademoiselle Adolphine, have you stopped singing?"
"Oh! no, monsieur; I am resting."
"For heaven's sake, take care," said Batonnin; "you'll suggest to that young man the idea of beginning again!"
"Why, no; I am talking to Mademoiselle Gerbault. I am sure that Monsieur de Raincy is boring her at this moment. I would like to rid her of him."
"Bézique!—You think she's bored? But you may be mistaken—he's a very good-looking fellow, is Monsieur de Raincy.—Four aces!"
"Ah! upon my word! If he's a good-looking fellow—with that stupid, idiotic, conceited air!"
"He has a good figure.—Double bézique!"
"Sapristi! you never fail to get that.—And that pronunciation of his—do you think that's pretty, too?"
"Not in singing, at all events.—Take your card, if you please, monsieur le comte!"
"Ah! to be sure.—I was not paying attention. Whose play is it?"
"Mine.—I have the honor of winning again. I have triple bézique—fifteen hundred!"
"Is it possible?"
"Look for yourself."
"Well! I am not sorry it's over. I am not at all in the mood for cards to-night."
Monsieur de la Bérinière left the table and went to talk with Adolphine; she, no less indifferent to the gallant speeches of the old count than to young Anatole's compliments, was equally amiable to both; for neither of them diverted her thoughts for a moment, and it is easy to be amiable when the heart is not involved.
The party broke up at last; but, before taking their leave, the count and Monsieur de Raincy in turn exchanged a few words in undertones with Monsieur Gerbault; which proceeding aroused Monsieur Batonnin's curiosity to such an extent, that he went in the direction of the kitchen instead of toward the street-door.
"It's your turn to be absent-minded, I see," observed Monsieur Clairval, satirically.
"Oh! not at all; I made a mistake in the door; that may happen to anybody. Perhaps you thought that I had something to whisper to Monsieur Gerbault, like those two ahead of us?"
"Ah! so they whispered to our friend Gerbault, did they? I confess that I didn't notice it, and, furthermore, that it's a matter of indifference to me."
"And to me, too, of course; although I have an idea that I can guess what they had to say to Mademoiselle Adolphine's father."
"Ah! you have an idea? The deuce! do you possess the art of divination, then?"
"One needn't be a sorcerer to divine certain things.—Do you want me to tell you my conjectures?"
"No, I thank you, Monsieur Batonnin, keep them to yourself; I don't appreciate conjectures; I like official facts only. Good-night!"
"That means that he is vexed because he hasn't guessed it," said Batonnin to himself, as they separated. "For my part, I would bet—six francs to twenty—that young De Raincy and old De la Bérinière are in love with the charming Adolphine; and I would also bet—twenty francs to thirty—that the girl doesn't care for either of them. So much the better for me! I have all the more chance. Let us wait, let us let the mutton boil, as the common saying goes. That's an old proverb; and I am like Sancho, I love proverbs."
Adolphine also had noticed her father's brief aside with the count and with De Raincy. When all the guests had gone, she went to him, and said with a smile:
"So those gentlemen have secrets with you, have they, father? for Monsieur de la Bérinière, and then Monsieur Anatole, whispered to you in a corner."
"Faith! my dear girl, as yet I have no more idea than you what they have to say to me; but each of them asked me for an appointment to-morrow, having a very important matter to discuss with me. I said to Monsieur de Raincy: 'I shall expect you at eleven o'clock;' and to Monsieur de la Bérinière: 'You will find me at home at one;' so I suppose that, at three or four o'clock to-morrow, I shall be able to gratify your curiosity, and to tell you what those gentlemen have confided to me—— Unless it concerns serious matters, which one doesn't tell to little girls; but I fancy not."
"You fancy not?—Do you mean that you suspect what it is, father?"
"Why—bless my soul!—but, after all, as they will tell me to-morrow, it's useless to indulge in conjectures. Ah! there's something which interests me much more than that."
"What is it, father?"
"The duel that Batonnin told us about. I pretended, before him, not to put any faith in what he said; but, if all that he told us is true, why, your sister's husband didn't hurt himself by falling on the stairs—and it must have been Gustave with whom he fought."
"Oh, no, father, no; I give you my word that it wasn't Gustave."
"Aha! so you know the truth, do you? and you never told me anything about it?"
"Fanny and her husband didn't want it to become known, and she made me promise not to mention it to you."
"But tell me whom Auguste did fight with?"
"With a man who was drunk, and who didn't know what he was saying—that's the whole of it. And Auguste didn't attach the slightest importance to it."
"Very good! I hope he didn't; but I am convinced, none the less, that Gustave was mixed up in it in some way, and I repeat what I have said to you before: that young man must never come here again!—Good-night, my dear!"
"Good-night, father!"
Adolphine retired to her own room; the two appointments with her father, solicited by two men who had persecuted her with their attentions during the evening, caused her a vague feeling of uneasiness; a secret presentiment told her that she would be the subject of the interviews to be held on the morrow, and she was impatient to know whether her fears were justified.
The next day, Adolphine did not leave her room, in order to avoid meeting the two gentlemen who had appointments with her father. At precisely eleven o'clock she heard the bell, and honest Madeleine came and said to her:
"It's the tall young man who sang with you last night, mamzelle; he asked for monsieur your father, and he's with him now."
"Very well, Madeleine; if he should happen to ask for me, you must tell him that I have a headache and cannot leave my room."
"I understand, mamzelle."
"And come and tell me when he has gone."
Adolphine counted the minutes; but Anatole had not gone when the clock struck twelve. She lost her patience; she said to herself:
"What can that man have to say to father, that takes such a long time? For a young man, he's very talkative. If he doesn't go soon, he'll meet the count. But, after all, it makes no difference to me."
At last, about half-past twelve, Monsieur de Raincy took his leave. Madeleine came to inform her young mistress, and she was on the point of going to her father, when the bell rang again.
It was Monsieur de la Bérinière. He had come ahead of time, but he was at once ushered into Monsieur Gerbault's study. Madeleine informed Adolphine of his arrival, and received the same orders as before, in case the count should ask permission to pay his respects to her mistress.
This second interview was much shorter; Monsieur de la Bérinière went away before one o'clock. Thereupon, Monsieur Gerbault went up to his daughter's room, with a gratified air, and rubbing his hands—a sign of satisfaction common to all nations. Why? No one has ever been able to find out.
"Well, father?" murmured Adolphine, in a voice which betrayed some slight emotion; "did both of them come?"
"Yes, my dear girl. Oh! they were very prompt; indeed the count was a little ahead of time; that's easily understood: the oldest are always in the greatest hurry."
"And what did they say to you? must you keep it secret?"
"No, indeed; since you were the sole subject of both interviews."
"I?"
"Yes; and, frankly, I had some suspicion.—And you?"
"I—why—— Oh! I beg you, my dear father, tell me at once what they wanted to say to you?"
"Well, my dear, the same motive brought them both; they both came to ask me for your hand."
"My hand?"
"In the first place, young De Raincy said: 'I love mademoiselle your daughter, she is an excellent musician, I adore music, we will sing together all day; I have no profession, but I have fifteen thousand francs a year in government securities, and with that one can live comfortably when one isn't ambitious; and music is a pleasure which necessitates very small expense. It has seemed to me that Mademoiselle Adolphine does not care for balls and great parties, like her sister; so I may hope that she will be happy with me. You will give her a dot of twenty thousand francs; I know it, and it's enough for me; I don't ask for any more.'—So much for number one.—Monsieur de la Bérinière was more eager, more impetuous, in his suit. 'I adore Mademoiselle Adolphine,' he said, 'I am mad over her; her delightful voice has turned my head, and I renounce my liberty for her. Indeed, I believe I am destined to enter your family, for I will not conceal from you that I was deeply in love with your other daughter; but Monléard was quicker than I, and stole her away from me.—So, this time I declare myself promptly, because I don't propose that your younger daughter shall escape me as her sister did; unless, of course, she will have none of me; but I venture to hope the contrary; I am no longer in my first youth, but my heart is as easily touched as it was at twenty. In short, I offer your daughter thirty thousand francs a year, and the title of countess—which always flatters a young woman's ear; I lay these at her feet, with the most ardent love. Be good enough to communicate my offer to her, and I will come to-morrow for your answer.'"
"Oh! mon Dieu! And what answer did you make to all that, father?"
"My dear child, the only answer that a father should make to honorable men, of good standing in society, who ask him for his daughter's hand: 'Your offer flatters me, does me honor, and, for my part, I will interpose no obstacle to the fulfilment of your wishes; but, as marriage is an act which has a decisive influence upon the happiness of one's whole life, I have determined to allow my daughters absolute freedom in the matter of choosing a husband, and never to enforce my wishes in opposition to theirs.'"