At last the great day had arrived on which Robineau proposed to display all the magnificence of a Caliph, although his fortune did not approach in size that of his highness’s most insignificant pacha. But, after living for many years with the strictest economy, to become the owner of a château, to hear oneself called monseigneur, or Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, to have nine servants at one’s orders, and to be fêted, sought after, flattered by men, and ogled and cajoled by women, is more than is necessary to make one lose one’s head, especially when one has very little common sense and a great deal of vanity. So that Robineau had almost lost his head; he did not calculate, he did not reflect that the manner of life which he proposed to lead was infinitely beyond the income that he had inherited; he gave orders recklessly. But he was happy, he was fairly swimming in joy, and that is always something. How many people there are who, even with great wealth, can never succeed in being happy.
Robineau awoke very early in the morning and deliberated upon his costume; that is an important point, especially when one wishes to find a wife; for a woman who has received a fine education will never consent to take for a husband a man who does not know how to dress with taste. The first impressions are often hard to destroy: a man whose collar is too high, or whose coat sleeves are too short, will create a very bad effect in a salon, at first. At all events, that is what Robineau said to himself, and he was not absolutely wrong. But, if the ladies would pay strict attention to the subject, they would observe that it is not always the men who have the most intellect who tie their cravats best.
François brought to his master the new clothes which he had ordered from Paris. He spread them out on the bed, and Robineau hesitated between the wholly black costume and the white trousers, which were more seasonable. Monsieur Férulus entered the apartment at that moment; the librarian, man of business and butler was already in full dress, although he wore the same coat as always; but to improve it a little, he had had steel buttons of the size of a five-franc piece sewn on, which, when Monsieur Férulus stood in the sun, cast a reflection that made it impossible to see the rest of his person. Moreover, he had caused to be fixed upon his shoulders great bunches of black ribbon, the very long ends of which fell down his back, after manner of a queue.
Despite his gala costume, Monsieur Férulus’s face was longer than usual, and his eyes were red and fatigued.
"Parbleu! my dear Férulus, you arrive most opportunely," said Robineau; "you must help me in the choice of my costume; ought I to adopt the full suit of black, or may I venture to wear the white trousers?"
"The full suit of black is the proper thing, monseigneur; to dress otherwise would be a crime of lèse-ceremony! Remember, monseigneur, that this day will mark an epoch: you represent in your person all the chatelaines who have possessed this domain! If you were in China, you would dress in yellow; in England you might dress in red; in Austria, in white; in Prussia, in blue; and in Africa, you might be practically naked, except that you could paint some very pretty things on your body and legs and arms; but as the French nation is the gayest of all, it has specially adopted black for weddings, for burials and for dancing."
"You hear, Francois; prepare the full black costume.—Bless my soul! you are brilliant, Monsieur Férulus! You have some very fine buttons there!"
"Are they not, monseigneur? They descended to me from my father’s granduncle, who wore them in a minuet which he danced before Madame de Maintenon; you can understand how highly I prize them; they are the most precious heritage which my ancestors have left to me! I use them only on great occasions; for example, at my distribution of prizes, I give them and nothing else to my pupils—but on condition that they bring them back to me the next day."
"And what is this bunch of ribbons which you have on each shoulder?"
"That is a mark of dignity, monseigneur; it means that I am worthy to eat at your table with the noblest society. The pages used to wear them under King Dagobert."
"In that case you did very well to put them on.—But what is the matter with you, Monsieur Férulus? You look to me very pale this morning."
"Monseigneur, it is because—I had my bed warmed——"
"What! already?"
"The tower in which I lodge is very damp, monseigneur; however, it did not succeed so well as I hoped; I trust that breakfast will make me feel better. But they have just brought your servants’ livery; it is superb—dark green, with apricot trousers and orange trimmings."
"Yes, that is my idea; can you see it at a distance?"
"At a great distance, monseigneur. I must tell you, however, that that clown of an Olitor—I mean your gardener—refuses to wear it, on the pretext that it makes him look like a parrot."
"That rascal is always rebelling about something! François, go to him and order him in my name to put on his livery under penalty of being turned out of my garden."
Alfred and Edouard were also busying themselves with their toilet; although they did not, like the master of the house, propose to make conquests, the two young Parisians desired to appear to advantage before the large company which was to assemble at the château; and then too, one is never sorry to please, even when one has no desire to love.
Everything was arranged for the festivities. Two greased poles had been set up in the courtyard, at the top of which were fastened the Syntax and the Rudiments. The colored lanterns were strung in the garden paths; the arena was arranged for the gymnastic sports; and the three musicians who were to compose the orchestra, the leader being blind, had arrived, armed with two violins and a clarinet. The servants ran hither and thither in the midst of it all, and the new livery did in fact give them some resemblance to the birds of which Vincent had spoken. However, in order to avoid dismissal, the gardener had made up his mind to put on his costume with the rest; Monsieur Férulus was careful always to stand in the sun, in order to make his buttons shine more brightly.
The clock struck twelve. Robineau was in full dress; all the preparations were made, but no one had yet arrived of the numerous company expected. However, François and the two scullions fired three musket shots; and Robineau, who was in the salon with his friends, ran out upon the balcony, saying:
"What is that?"
"It is the signal to announce that the fête is beginning, monseigneur," said François.
"Idiot! do you suppose that the fête is going to begin before anyone has arrived?"
"Why, monseigneur, Monsieur Férulus told us to fire all together at noon."
"Non errabis!" cried Férulus, appearing in the courtyard; "I told you to fire at noon, but it was understood that it should be coram populo, that is to say, before the company. Reload your weapons, therefore; you must give a second signal."
While the servants reloaded their weapons, shrieks arose from one corner of the courtyard. Everybody hurried in that direction to ascertain the cause. They found the leader of the orchestra sprawling on the steps of the staircase leading to the cellar, down which he had jumped at the report of the muskets, which he believed to be aimed at him. They picked up the poor man, who had suffered nothing worse than a few bruises, and placed him on the stand which was set up in the courtyard, ordering his two companions not to leave him, which they promised only on condition that six bottles of wine should be placed under the bench.
Half an hour passed, and no one appeared. Robineau began to be impatient, Monsieur Férulus ran about, telling each one again and again what he had to do, and as he spoke, glancing furtively at his buttons. Robineau called for an opera glass and went up with his friends to the top of the South Tower. From there they could see the road for a long distance, and Monsieur de la Roche-Noire kept passing the glass to his friends, saying, like Bluebeard’s wife: "Do you see anybody coming?"
At last they espied a horseman riding toward the château; Robineau turned the glass upon him and cried:
"He is coming here; I recognize him; it is Monsieur Berlingue, a most agreeable man, with an extraordinary memory; he has already told me all the scandal of the town; he is a delightful person! He goes everywhere, even where he is not invited."
Monsieur Berlingue’s horse advanced at a very slow trot, but still he did advance. Robineau went down from the tower with his friends to welcome the newcomer, and François and the scullions, seeing the horseman approach, took aim at him, thinking that the time had come to fire; but Monsieur Férulus checked them in time, and Monsieur Berlingue dismounted and entered the château, glancing all about with malicious curiosity.
The newcomer was a short man of fifty years, who was not very stylishly dressed, but whose sneering face seemed to be constantly seeking something to make fun of. He walked toward Robineau and held out his hand, staring at the two young men who were in the salon; and even before he had asked the master of the house how he was, he had taken an inventory of everything in the room.
"Monsieur Berlingue," said Robineau, "you are very amiable, for you have come at last! But the other gentlemen and ladies—no one comes and it is nearly one o’clock! And yet I asked them to come early. I had arranged some little surprises for the ladies."
"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire," replied Monsieur Berlingue in a shrill voice, shouting as if he never spoke to any except deaf people, "it is a principle of mine to be prompt, to keep my word.—Are these gentlemen your friends from Paris? Very happy to make their acquaintance.—But, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, if you want to have company at noon, you must invite them for nine o’clock, for here—You have had this part of the château repaired, I see—here, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, we go beyond the fashion: in Paris, people keep you waiting one hour; in the provinces they keep you waiting four.—Is this your livery? It is a new style.—And then the ladies, married or single! do you suppose that they can finish their toilet at noon?—You still have some furniture that’s rather old-fashioned; you must change it.—In the first place, the women in the provinces are greater flirts than those in Paris!—Your coat fits you perfectly.—You expect Mesdames de Moulinet, Mesdemoiselles Bretonneau, the La Pincerie family, Gérard the manufacturer’s wife, and the notary’s wife—Parbleu! If those ladies are all here within two hours, you will be very lucky.—Ah! greased poles in your courtyard! That is charming! It is an entirely new idea!"
Despite Monsieur Berlingue’s prediction, the guests soon arrived; little wicker carriages and covered chaises brought divers persons of great distinction, for there were no cabs or omnibuses at Saint-Amand, and everybody could not afford a handsome turnout. However, there were a few chars-à-bancs and a few pretty cabriolets to be seen in that crowd of carriages; and the persons who alighted from them cast patronizing glances upon those who arrived in chaises; vanity is present at all festivities, but in the provinces above all it makes us poor weak mortals giddy.
The La Pincerie family arrived in a carriage half-way between a city and a country vehicle: it was a huge cabriolet, not unlike that generally called a coucou, the lower part being of wicker, and the top of oilcloth; it might in a crowd have passed for the carriage of a merchant of Poissy; but Monsieur de la Pincerie declared that he would not exchange it for the most modern landau, because it descended to him from his ancestors; and from the leanness of the one horse which drew it, one might have been tempted to believe that the poor beast also had served the marquis’s ancestors.
Monsieur de la Pincerie was a man of about sixty, almost six feet tall, and exceedingly thin; he wore a queue and his hair was powdered; his yellow, wrinkled face almost always wore an expression of arrogance and disdain; he rarely passed two minutes without coughing and expectorating, but he did it all with a gravity which caused the people about him to believe that not everybody in the world could spit as he could.
A little man with squinting eyes, red hair, a blue nose, and red ears, was the second person to alight from the carriage; he had not put his foot to the ground before he began to smile and show teeth which would have put those of a horse to shame. This gentleman, with whom they had not as yet succeeded in doing anything, and for whom they were still trying to find a place, although he was nearly fifty-five, was the marquis’s brother; he was called Mignon, a pet name which had been given to him when he was a child, and which it seemed to be his destiny to bear all his life. After smiling like a wild boar, while his brother expectorated upon one of the greased poles, Mignon stepped forward and offered his hand to a young lady, who leaped from the carriage, saying to her uncle:
"It isn’t worth while, I prefer to get out alone."
This young lady, who alighted so gracefully, was the marquis’s younger daughter, Mademoiselle Cornélie; she was twenty-seven years old, tall and well-built; her face was regular and rather distinguished, but her manner was imperious and her eyes, which she very rarely lowered, seemed intent upon commanding homage, and their expression indicated that she received it simply as a tribute due to her.
After Mademoiselle Cornélie came her sister, who was a widow, named Madame de Hautmont, or simply Eudoxie; she was perhaps five or six years older than Mademoiselle Cornélie; she was pretty, but she lessened her attractions by grimaces and a pretentious manner; her dress was always so extravagantly elaborate as to be ridiculous; she was saturated with perfumery, and she always carried a bouquet in one hand and a phial of salts in the other; the least thing made her faint and sick. She, far from alighting from the carriage alone, required three persons to assist her; but at the moment that her foot touched the ground, she spied François and the two scullions, whose weapons were pointed in her direction.
"Oh! mon Dieu! what is that?" cried Madame de Hautmont, throwing herself into her father’s arms. "Are they going to fire at us? Why, this is abominable! I can’t endure the sight of firearms!"
Robineau had walked forward to meet the La Pincerie family; he bowed respectfully to the father, shook hands with the uncle, smiled at the young lady, and reassured her sister, crying:
"Monsieur Férulus, pray tell my people not to aim their guns at everybody! Do not be afraid, mesdames; it is a surprise, it’s for the fête."
"What! do you mean to say that there will be guns fired at your fête, monsieur?"
"There will be all the firing that is possible, madame! But there will be no one shot; it is just for a joke, and to amuse you; that is all."
After escorting the La Pincerie family into the large salon, where Alfred and Edouard assisted him to do the honors, Robineau outdid himself in his endeavors to receive all his guests gracefully. There was the notary, who alighted with his wife from a dainty cabriolet; there was a wealthy paper manufacturer, who brought his wife, his three daughters, his two sons and his two nieces in his char-à-bancs; there were the Gérards, who alone filled both seats of their carriage, and who could not walk arm in arm, because their hips made it impossible; there was Monsieur le Chevalier de Tantignac, who could not say two words without bringing in a falsehood, and who arrived on foot, in silk short clothes, with spurs on his shoes and a hunting crop in his hand, to give the impression that he had come on horseback; lastly, there were the government officials, the leading merchants, the important personages of the district, who had one and all accepted Monsieur de la Roche-Noire’s invitation, for opportunities for enjoyment being more rare in the provinces, one eagerly seizes all that offer.
The company assembled in the immense salon on the first floor; they eyed one another, they scrutinized one another from head to foot, they passed the ladies’ costumes in review, they made unkind remarks in undertones and complimentary ones aloud. Robineau went from one to another, played the gallant with the ladies, and smiled at everybody; but he addressed his homage most frequently to Mademoiselle Cornélie de la Pincerie, although ever since her entrance into the salon, Mademoiselle Cornélie had paid much more attention to Alfred than to the master of the house; while for her part Eudoxie cast languishing glances at Edouard.
On entering the salon, Monsieur le Marquis de la Pincerie had thrown himself into a big easy-chair in which he stretched himself out as if he proposed to go to sleep, extending his long legs in such a way that everybody was obliged to make a détour in order to pass him; the marquis at once began to cough and expectorate contemptuously in the midst of the salon, glancing at everybody as a sultan might glance at his slaves.
Uncle Mignon, on the contrary, had taken a seat modestly behind his niece Cornélie and was arranging the upper part of her sleeves, which had become a little rumpled in the carriage. The other guests stood about in groups or watched the preparations for the fête from the windows. Monsieur Berlingue strolled about the salon, scrutinizing everybody with a sly expression, listening to what was said, and trying to guess what was not said. The Chevalier de Tantignac, who was the last to enter the salon, contrived to catch his spurs in a lady’s dress, so that he might secure for himself the pleasure of exclaiming:
"How careless I am! I forgot to take off my spurs. Oh! I beg you to excuse me, madame, but I am so accustomed to being in the saddle."
"What have you done with your steed, pray?" said Monsieur Berlingue; "I didn’t see him when you came into the courtyard."
"I dismounted a few yards from the gate to avoid accidents, because my horse has a horrible trick of rearing; then I did as I always do, I struck him twice across the flank, and he at once trotted back alone to his stable. He is trained to do that, he is a pupil of Franconi.—But I must make haste to relieve myself of this equestrian apparatus!"
"Please pull my belt up a little, uncle. That’s right; now put a pin in there.—These carriages disarrange one’s dress terribly."
As she said this, Mademoiselle Cornélie glanced at Alfred, and seemed to demand the compliment which what she had just said invited; but it did not occur to Alfred to bestow it upon her. In his stead, Robineau picked up the gauntlet, crying:
"The carriage might do its worst, it could not prevent you from being charming!"
Mademoiselle Cornélie, after smiling at Robineau, looked after Alfred who had gone to speak to some other ladies.
"It is certain," said Madame de Hautmont, playing with her bouquet, "that someone ought to invent a different method of transportation from these carriages. A lady cannot alight from one of them without being jarred from head to foot. Uncle Mignon, give me a stool to put my feet on."
Uncle Mignon dropped his niece Cornélie’s sleeves to find a stool for his niece Eudoxie, while Monsieur de la Pincerie exclaimed angrily:
"It seems to me, mesdames, that my chariot is hung perfectly, and that there is no ground for complaint."
"Oho! he calls his coucou a chariot!" whispered Monsieur Berlingue in the paper manufacturer’s ear; while Monsieur Gérard exclaimed:
"Well, well, mesdames, I see that you will soon be carried in palanquins, as in Asia."
"But one must be very comfortable in them," said Eudoxie, glancing at Edouard.
"I favor palanquins, too," said Madame Gérard.
"If she should ever get into one," said Berlingue in an undertone, "I doubt whether she could find men strong enough to carry her."
"As a general rule," said a lady who had not yet spoken, "those men in the East are great inventors."
"Fie! madame, fie!" said another lady, "they are monsters! they have more than one wife at a time."
"What is that you are saying about the men of the East?" cried the Chevalier de Tantignac, returning to the salon; "I know something about them; I spent a long time in Turkey; my doctor ordered me there. I had such a superabundance of health that my doctor said to me: ‘Go to Turkey, my friend, and buy yourself a harem at once; if you don’t, you are a dead man!’"
The ladies put their fans in front of their faces in order to laugh at the chevalier, who had not at all the appearance of a Turk, when Monsieur Férulus entered the salon to ask Robineau if it were time to begin the fête. At sight of Férulus, Madame de Hautmont uttered a shriek, and clung to Edouard, saying:
"Mon Dieu! what on earth is that?"
"That is the manager of the fête, madame," said Edouard.
"But he made my eyes smart terribly! I thought that either the sun or the moon had entered the room. Pray, what has the man got on?"
"It is his buttons, which are so brilliant."
"Ah! you must agree that when a man wears such buttons, he ought at least to give people some warning."
"It certainly is difficult to look at that gentleman without squinting," said Monsieur Berlingue.
Monsieur Férulus darted out of the room again like an arrow, and soon musket shots announced the beginning of the fête. The noise of the fusillade almost made Eudoxie ill; but she took pains to fall into the arms of Edouard, who was beginning to be bored by her fainting spells, but who could not, however, avoid offering her his arm. Everybody ran out upon the balcony, and to the windows, whence they could see the sports which were to take place in the courtyard. Uncle Mignon alone remained behind, for it was necessary to find two pins for his niece Cornélie, and to fetch a glass of water to restore his other niece to consciousness. The peasants from the neighborhood, who had received permission to attend the fête, were drawn up on two sides of the courtyard. The servants were under the balcony; even Mademoiselle Cheval had left her kitchen to enjoy the sports, and especially to find out what was to be done with the greased poles, which aroused her curiosity.—Meanwhile the orchestra, which was supposed to play, did not begin, because the blind man, who was terribly afraid of the musket shots, had crawled under the bench during the discharge, and persisted in refusing to come out, although Férulus exhausted himself in arguing to prove that he was in no danger.
The company waited for the performance to begin. Robineau leaned over the balcony and shouted to Férulus:
"Why don’t you begin? We are waiting."
And Monsieur Férulus, who was on the point of coming to blows with the first violin, shouted back:
"You know very well that it begins with foot races in the garden. Go and walk there with the ladies, monseigneur."
But the ladies were tired by their ride and did not care to walk. Moreover, they were impatient to witness the sports. François ran to assist Férulus to pull the blind man out from under the bench. At last the music struck up, and six tall Auvergnats, nude from the head to the waist, appeared in the arena arranged in the middle of the courtyard. The ladies started in surprise at sight of the singular costume of the combatants; Madame de Hautmont had another slight attack of faintness; but Monsieur Férulus, who had ascended the stoop, cried:
"Gymnastic sports after the pattern of those of Greece and Rome."
"Mesdames," said Robineau, "it is after the pattern of the ancients; consequently there is nothing to offend your delicacy."
"To be sure, it is a tournament!" said Monsieur de la Pincerie.
"Precisely, a Greek and Roman tournament."
"A tournament!" said Uncle Mignon, standing on tiptoe. "Oho! the deuce! Then these half-naked fellows are knights! I understand, I understand."
"I am strongly inclined to request some guaranty for the rest of their bodies," observed Monsieur Berlingue to one of his neighbors, while Madame Gérard, gazing at the six Auvergnats with all her eyes, exclaimed:
"Those fellows are well-built! Monsieur Gérard, you ought to appear as a gladiator some time; you would be superb."
Férulus gave the signal by striking the rail with a stick and calling:
"We begin with the throwing of the discus. Strike up, orchestra, a warlike tune."
The orchestra began the air of Marlboro’, which was the most warlike tune that the blind man knew, and the Auvergnats stepped forward, each holding in his hand a Brie cheese, which represented the discus which he was to throw, and which at a distance looked rather like the ancient quoit. The athletes hurled their cheeses with much skill; the target was below the stoop upon which Férulus stood with solemn face. The three cheeses approached but did not quite reach the point necessary to be declared a winner, and the company standing on the balcony and at the windows, found that that particular sport exhaled an odor which was far from balsamic. But a fourth athlete appeared; he was of a more muscular build than his antagonists; he held in his hand a so-called discus, of formidable size and thickness, and exclaimed with a contemptuous glance at those who had already thrown theirs:
"You fellows couldn’t throw any farther than that! Bah! Sac—f——! See how prettily I’ll put you out of the game!"
"The athlete’s language is decidedly forcible!" said Monsieur Berlingue; and Robineau leaned over and shouted to Férulus:
"Tell them not to talk! Let them content themselves with pantomime."
"Monseigneur," said Férulus, "in all times, gladiators have provoked and stimulated one another by insults; even the knights of old did not spare epithets during the combat."
"Mesdames, that is the language of the knights of old," said Robineau; "you mustn’t let it frighten you."
Meanwhile, the last athlete raised his right hand, on the palm of which rested the discus; he threw his body back, then hurled the discus with all his strength, and the cheese, passing the target, struck Monsieur Férulus full in the face.
All the ladies shrieked aloud, saying:
"Mon Dieu! He is wounded,—killed perhaps! The quoit struck him in the head!"
The librarian was suffocated for a moment by the blow, but the cheese had broken in halves, leaving upon his face some traces of its passage; and he soon recovered himself, drew out a handkerchief, wiped his face, passed his tongue over his lips, and cried:
"He is the winner; he threw beyond the mark; but he who can do more, can do less.—Sound, trumpets!"
The trumpets were represented by the violins; the Auvergnats uttered deafening shouts, the ladies produced their salts, and Monsieur de Tantignac observed:
"Ah! the discuses were of cheese! What a sell! I’ll wager that I could throw one into the moon!"
"Uncle Mignon, find me some cologne, I implore you," said Eudoxie, hanging upon Edouard’s arm, "for this sport smells altogether too much like a barnyard."
"You are not accustomed to it, mesdames, you will have many others!" said Robineau, who believed that everybody was infatuated by what had just been seen; and he timidly took the end of Mademoiselle Cornélie’s little finger, which she abandoned to him, apparently without perceiving the rapture with which he squeezed it.
Monsieur Férulus, not observing that there were still some fragments of cheese upon his forehead and ears, had returned to his place, and once more tapped the rail with his stick, crying:
"The foot race, after the pattern of Hippomenes and Atalanta; with sticks instead of the golden apples, which will be vastly more natural."
Immediately, the Auvergnats began to race about the courtyard, and those who fell behind threw sticks between the legs of their comrades, to cause them to fall, so that they might reach the goal first. This game came to an end without accident; but the Chevalier de Tantignac cried:
"I don’t see anything wonderful in running as these peasants do; I can go six leagues on one foot! That’s rather a different thing!"
"Wrestling and boxing contests!" cried Monsieur Férulus; whereupon the Auvergnats set about throwing one another down; but the peasants, being accustomed to this last form of exercise, showed more pride and obstinacy, and did their utmost to overthrow their antagonists. At such a game, tempers are easily aroused; from struggles they passed to insults, from insults to blows, and already some faces were bruised and some noses bleeding.
"Enough! enough!" cried the ladies, in no wise amused by that spectacle. "Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, make those wretches stop!"
"Mesdames," cried Férulus, "when the gladiators fought at Rome, at least half of them always remained upon the field."
"But, monsieur, we are not Romans, thank heaven! And we take no pleasure in seeing men hammer one another!"
To comply with the wishes of the ladies, Robineau ordered that the combatants be separated, although Monsieur de la Pincerie declared that it reminded him of the bull fights he had seen at Madrid. Two Auvergnats, more obstinate than the others, refused to desist; but at last François and the other servants succeeded in driving them onto the lawn, where they left them to fight it out.
Monsieur Férulus next announced that the time had come to pass from the serious to the gallant; and the servants appeared with baskets filled with bouquets for the ladies.
"Ah! good!" said Madame de Hautmont; "this is more agreeable."
"And it doesn’t smell of cheese," said Monsieur Berlingue.
"Why! why, there is a paper in my bouquet," said Madame Gérard.
"A paper, madame!" said Monsieur Gérard, approaching his wife as near as his paunch permitted.
"I have one too," said Eudoxie.
"And I—and I too," said each lady.
Cornélie opened the paper which was in her bouquet and read:
"That is extremely pretty!" said Monsieur de la Pincerie, expectorating upon the villagers in the courtyard.
"And it is perfectly suited to the person to whom it is addressed," said Alfred to Mademoiselle Cornélie, who looked at him in a way to force him to say something.
"It sounds to me like the mottoes in bonbons," said Monsieur Berlingue.
"I have a poem, too," said Eudoxie; "let me see—Why, it’s just like my sister’s; here, look, monsieur."
Edouard looked at the lines which she handed him and said:
"It must be that he thought, madame, that the same attractions would be found in all the members of the same family."
"Ah! what you say is very gallant; but it seems to me that my face is of an entirely different type from my sister’s."
"Let’s see my poem," said Madame Gérard; "I am very curious to know what he has to say to me:
"Evidently it is a circular," said Monsieur Berlingue.
"It is extremely flattering to receive the same compliment as Madame Gérard!" said Mademoiselle Cornélie, with a shrug; while all the ladies proceeded to read their mottoes.
"It is most astonishing that they all have the same thing," said Uncle Mignon, running from one lady to another. "It is like the card trick someone played on me, when I saw nothing but aces of hearts in the pack."
"Who is the author of these pretty lines?" inquired the chevalier sneeringly.
"My librarian," replied Robineau.
"What! that man in black, with buttons like plates?"
"The same. He’s a scholar of the first rank, a man who knows everything!"
"Oho! He knows everything, does he? I will wager that I can talk to him about things he never heard of."
"And those greased poles,—is no one going to climb those, monsieur?"
"In a moment, madame.—Monsieur Férulus, order the assault on the greased poles to begin."
"Parbleu!" said the chevalier, "it isn’t hard to climb those; I have been to sea and I’ve seen some that were much harder to climb! I used to run up the mainmast like a monkey, and when I reached the top, I would stand on my head."
"Just try climbing one of these," said Monsieur Berlingue.
"I can’t, because my breeches are very tight, and I am afraid of accidents; but for that, I would be at the top before you had seen that I was going up."
Monsieur Férulus requested the orchestra to play a livelier piece for the attack on the greased poles, and it was to the tune of Ma Tendre Musette that several Auvergnats tried to climb one of the poles; but they slid back after climbing two or three feet, and showed very little zest in the attempt to win the books which were attached to the top. In vain did Férulus urge them on, and Robineau from the balcony encourage them,—the Auvergnats refused to climb any more.
"Well!" said the librarian, "the women will set you the example, and teach you how to climb. Let the young ladies come forward!"
"Ah! the women are going to climb!" said Monsieur Berlingue; "this is getting interesting."
"The women are going to climb!" said Monsieur de la Pincerie. "Hum! that is an innovation!"
"Oh! we have provided for everything!" said Robineau; "the pole is smeared with honey."
"With honey," said Uncle Mignon; "ah! I understand, I understand; that’s for decency’s sake."
Two or three buxom girls came forward laughing, and walked around the pole, but did not venture, although Monsieur Férulus stood at the foot of the pole, offering his back to all those who cared to try. At last, one village girl made the attempt, and climbed a little way, then stopped, crying that she was stuck; and Monsieur Férulus, who was below, said to her:
"Don’t give it up—don’t be discouraged; it’s the way of life,—thorns in order to obtain roses; quid femina possit."
The peasant descended, licking the honey from her hands; another followed her, but was no more fortunate, although Monsieur Férulus still stood at the foot of the pole, to let them stand on his back and to encourage their efforts. Monsieur Berlingue declared that the librarian had the best place and could see better than the rest of the company.
But no one else came forward. In vain did Monsieur Férulus exclaim:
"There is a chance to win the Treatise on Participles, and the Cuisinière Bourgeoise."
The prizes seemed fated to remain suspended in the air, when suddenly Mademoiselle Cheval, who was watching the sports from the courtyard, keeping an eye upon her cooking the while, walked proudly toward Monsieur Férulus, saying:
"You say there is a cook-book to win! that’s my business; let me climb up, Monsieur Desânus, and I will bring the things down in a jiffy! Oh! I know how to play all kinds of games, I do!"
And, pushing aside the functionary, who offered to let her stand on his back, Mademoiselle Cheval put her arms about the pole, and worked her hands and knees so vigorously that she ascended at a rapid pace.
"She will go to the top," said Monsieur Gérard; "she’s a stout young woman."
"Oh! she’s uncommonly strong," said Robineau; "she lifted me up once like a feather."
"She has a shapely calf," said Monsieur Berlingue.
In her struggles, Mademoiselle Cheval did in fact show her calves and her garters; but thus far everything had gone off successfully, and Monsieur Férulus, who, standing at the foot of the pole, kept his eyes fixed on her, constantly encouraged her by calling out "mate animo," which the cook took for an insult, and to which she replied: "Climb yourself, you animal!"
At last Mademoiselle Cheval reached the goal; she untied the two volumes and dropped them into the courtyard.
The librarian, overjoyed that the prizes had been won, ordered the orchestra to play a fanfare; the company applauded, and Mademoiselle Cheval, in the excitement of her triumph, attempted to slide down rapidly; but her dress stuck to the honey and refused to be detached; so that, as she dropped, her face soon disappeared beneath her skirts, while her legs were exposed to the observation of the spectators.
A murmur arose; the ladies resorted to their fans or left the balcony, the men took their glasses, and made comments on what they saw, and Robineau cried:
"Take her down!"
Monsieur Férulus, who did not know the cause of the tumult, shouted with all his strength:
"Honor to the victor!"
"Parbleu! this is quite honor enough!" said Monsieur Berlingue; while the peasants laughed and shouted, and Jeannette artlessly observed:
"I say, she’s showing her warming pan!"
However, with a final effort, Mademoiselle succeeded in freeing herself just as François arrived with a ladder; she descended, bowed to the company and returned to her kitchen, amid the acclamations of all the peasants. Thereupon the guests left the balcony and the windows. Robineau suggested taking a stroll in the gardens, and they all consented, in order to do something to kill time before dinner. The men offered the ladies their arms. Edouard did not have to take that trouble, because the languishing Eudoxie had not once left his arm, upon which she leaned as if she had done nothing else for ten years. Cornélie continued to ogle Alfred, but he had turned his attentions to two rather attractive young ladies, and Mademoiselle de la Pincerie accepted the hand which the master of the château offered her with a sigh.
They walked about at random; each couple went in whatever direction they pleased; and in large parties, not until then do people begin to talk freely, and to know and understand one another.
"What did you think of the little sports that were performed just now?" said Robineau, as he and Cornélie turned into one of the shady paths of the garden.
"Why, they were very good; I rather liked them; they were quite original.—Why are we going away from the other ladies and gentlemen?"
"Oh! we will join them again. I am so happy to be once—to be for a moment—to try to——"
"Who is that tall young man whom you call Alfred?"
"He is an intimate friend of mine, a baron, with more than a hundred thousand francs a year.—But I was saying, mademoiselle, that I am enjoying the keenest happiness, and——"
"Is this Monsieur Alfred married?"
"No, he is a bachelor, and so is Edouard Beaumont.—However, as we are alone for a moment, which rarely happens, I would like to express to you,—to make you understand——"
"Ah! I think I see your two friends; let us walk a little faster."
"Never fear; monsieur le marquis your father, and your uncle, are very busy talking politics with Monsieur Moulinet, and they will not notice that——"
"Much I care about my father and my uncle! they think well enough of me, monsieur, not to be afraid to let me walk with whomever I please!"
"I do not doubt it, mademoiselle; that was not what I meant; but when one is with you, the confusion, the agitation one feels make one, in spite of oneself——"
"He is very good-looking, is this Monsieur Alfred. His friend is not bad-looking, either. I don’t know which of them is the better looking!"
"I don’t know, mademoiselle, whether you have divined the secret sentiments of my heart. The other evening, when I danced with you at the tax-collector’s, it seemed to me that I was happy enough to——"
"Does your friend Alfred intend to pass some time in this region?"
"Oh, yes, he is in no hurry, he has nothing to do.—Well, mademoiselle, do you remember that contradance, when, as we made the poule, I declared that your charms, that your graces——"
"Mon Dieu! I am so accustomed to having compliments paid me, monsieur, and declarations of love, that three-fourths of the time I pay no attention to them!"
"I can understand that perfectly, and it does honor to your modesty. But still, your heart must be touched some day and if I were the fortunate mortal——"
"Ah! I beg your pardon, I see my sister; I have something to say to her!"
Mademoiselle Cornélie escaped and ran to join Eudoxie, who was walking with Edouard, Alfred and several ladies. Robineau looked after her, saying to himself:
"She is fascinating! A magnificent figure! and after our conversation, I have every reason to believe that I am not displeasing to her."
The guests walked about for some time in the gardens, where Monsieur Vincent was sitting on a bench, in evident ill humor, amusing himself by throwing dirt and water on his yellow breeches. Monsieur de la Pincerie had seized an old annuitant, to whom he was confiding his plans of economy, trudging through the strawberry plants; Monsieur Gérard plucked flowers for the ladies; Uncle Mignon looked for pins for his nieces; Alfred, as a matter of habit, paid compliments to the young ladies who were with him; Edouard talked little, but from time to time he sighed as he walked about with Madame de Hautmont; and the widow, who could not conceive that a man could sigh for another woman than herself, sighed with him, leaning more heavily on his arm. Monsieur Berlingue examined with a mocking air the colored lanterns and the dilapidated statues; the Chevalier de Tantignac told a fable to every person that he met; and Monsieur Férulus put everybody to flight, because he carried with him an odor of cheese, which recalled too vividly the throwing of the discus.
Mademoiselle de la Pincerie had received Robineau’s homage civilly enough at Saint-Amand; for Cornélie was nearing her twenty-eighth year, and although she was the daughter of a noble family, the marquis’s fortune consisted in little else than his economical projects; the tall young lady had noticed that the attentions which were paid to her always began and ended with compliments, and she was beginning to desire most earnestly to be called madame. In truth, to save her self-esteem, the family had agreed to say to all those people who expressed surprise that the fair Cornélie had never married, that for family reasons they wished to obtain a place for her Uncle Mignon first. But the uncle was becoming quite as difficult to find a place for as his niece was to find a husband for, and Cornélie no longer assumed such haughty airs with her admirers. That is why she had smiled amiably at the new owner of the château, who, although he was not of an old family, had at all events a fortune with which she could make a show, and appear to much greater advantage. They had prudently sent Uncle Mignon to the notary to make inquiries concerning Robineau’s fortune; the notary at Saint-Amand knew the new owner only from the fact that he had purchased the estate of La Roche-Noire, and that Robineau asked him every day for considerable sums, which were repaid to him by his confrère in Paris. From the mode of life that the new lord was leading, one might well accredit him with twice the amount that he really possessed; so that the notary answered Uncle Mignon that he was a man who probably had fifty thousand francs a year.
The uncle returned and imparted this news to his niece, jumping and showing his teeth, because he too thought that a very wealthy nephew would be of great assistance to him in procuring employment; and the La Pincerie family accepted Robineau’s invitation with pleasure.
But Mademoiselle Cornélie had found Alfred much more fascinating than the lord of La Roche-Noire; the unaffected bearing, the amiable manners, and the lively tone of young De Marcey had caused Robineau to appear more stupid and heavy than ever; and when she learned that the tall young man was a baron and had an income of a hundred thousand francs, she thought of nothing but making a conquest of him, because, in addition to his physical advantages, there was fifty per cent. to be won with him.
That is why she had dropped Robineau’s arm to run after Eudoxie, who had seated herself under a clump of trees with Alfred and several other ladies of the company, married and single.
Cornélie ran to them at a mincing gait, holding her hand to her heart, and said:
"I don’t know what the matter is with me, but I am tired so soon."
They hastened to offer a seat to the young lady, who eyed from the height of her grandeur the young women to whom Alfred had offered his arm.
"These gardens are immense!" said Eudoxie; "but it seems to me that they might have been arranged in a more mysterious way."
"Mesdames," said Edouard, "it is Monsieur Jules’s intention to arrange them so; but he has not yet had time to carry out all the improvements that he plans; so you must excuse him if his property is still somewhat in confusion, for his keen desire to receive you did not allow him to wait until everything was entirely finished."
"Ah! this gentleman is very agreeable," said one of the young women; "he takes so much trouble to entertain us."
"Besides, mesdames," said Alfred, "you must remember that you are at a bachelor’s house, and that quality should induce you to overlook many things."
"That quality!" said Cornélie, pressing her lips together; "do you call that a quality, monsieur?"
"It is at all events a condition which entitles one to be excused for many thoughtless acts."
"You abuse the privilege sometimes, messieurs!" said Eudoxie, making eyes at Edouard, who was gazing at the foliage.
"However," rejoined Alfred smiling, "I believe that our friend does not intend to retain long that title upon which you ladies make war."
All the young ladies were silent and looked at the ground. There was a moment’s pause, which Eudoxie broke, saying:
"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire is certainly very gallant; his fête is delightful; if only he won’t have those vulgar peasants fight any more, for that is a spectacle which I cannot endure."
"Well I would have liked to climb the greased pole!" said a little girl of ten to her older sister.
"Oh! that would have been very nice, mademoiselle!" replied the sister; "to do as that vulgar creature did and show your——"
The older sister suddenly checked herself and turned as red as a beet; all the young ladies lowered their eyes once more. Renewed silence, which amused the young men immensely.
"You gentlemen did not come with Monsieur de la Roche-Noire to the last parties which were given in our town?" said Eudoxie, addressing Alfred.
"As we knew no one at Saint-Amand, mademoiselle, we thought that it would be impertinent to try to obtain our own inclusion in invitations which were addressed solely to the new owner of this estate."
"Why so, pray, monsieur? My father will certainly be charmed to become better acquainted with Monsieur le Baron de Marcey."
"And with Monsieur Edouard de Beaumont," said Eudoxie.
"It is not de Beaumont." replied Edouard, with a bow, "it is Beaumont simply."
"There speaks the modesty of a man of letters, who desires to owe his reputation to his genius alone."
"Monsieur has something of my cousin the viscount’s look in his features," said Cornélie, glancing at Alfred; "don’t you think so, sister? In the eyes, and the shape of the mouth; but monsieur is even better looking."
"I have heard a great deal about your works, monsieur," said Eudoxie to Edouard; "and I am delighted to be in the company of the author of compositions so well turned."
"These women are terrible with their compliments!" whispered Edouard in Alfred’s ear. Luckily for the young men, Robineau bustled up to them, crying:
"Dinner is ready, mesdames! Let us go to the dining-room, if you please!"
Cornélie had approached Alfred, and put out her hand as if absent-mindedly; but Alfred, paying no heed to Mademoiselle de la Pincerie’s distraction, offered his arms to the two young women with whom he had already been walking, and moved away with them. Thereupon Cornélie abruptly took the hand that Robineau offered her; her anger caused her to squeeze it violently; and Robineau, beside himself with joy, kept repeating to her all the way:
"I am the most fortunate of mortals!"
They reached the banquet hall, which was decorated with festoons, garlands and mottoes.
"This is very neat," said Madame Gérard.
"It is like Berthelemot’s," said Monsieur Berlingue.
"It is the salon of Apollo," said Monsieur Férulus, as he ushered each guest in with a self-satisfied air.
"The salon of Apollo? What on earth does that mean?" rejoined Monsieur Berlingue; "I did not know that Apollo presided at banquets."
"Is not monsieur aware, pray, that Lucullus had for his banquets several rooms, each of which bore the name of some divinity? and that that name also served to designate to the major-domo the amount that he was to spend for the banquet? So that Lucullus had only to say in which room he would sup, and the functionary knew the number of courses he was to serve. Nero, going a step beyond Lucullus, built the famous house of gold to give banquets in; Heliogabalus surpassed even Nero in the magnificence of his feasts, where there were as many courses as there were letters in the alphabet. Ah! you must agree, monsieur, after that, that we do not know how to eat! Think of the Emperor Claudius Albinus, who had for his breakfast five hundred figs, a hundred peaches, ten melons, a hundred ortolans, forty oysters and a lot of grapes! of the Emperor Maximin I, whose usual ration was sixty pounds of meat and twenty-four pints of wine; so that he became so fat that he wore his wife’s bracelets as finger rings. Think of——"
But Monsieur Férulus discovered that he was talking to deaf ears, because they had all taken their places at the table; whereupon he ran to the seat which he had caused to be reserved for himself, between Uncle Mignon and Monsieur Moulinet; and Monsieur Férulus had ordered the servants to place the large dishes in front of him, having told Robineau that he would undertake the duty of carving.
The large armchair reserved for solemn occasions had been taken to the dining-room, and Robineau had offered it to Monsieur de la Pincerie, who had planted himself in it; and the elevation of the seat, added to his tall stature, caused him to soar above the rest of the guests.
"Mon Dieu! How handsome my father is like that!" said Eudoxie, who had found a way to sit beside Edouard; whereas Cornélie, seated between Robineau and Monsieur Berlingue, sulked throughout the dinner, because Alfred laughed and chatted with two young women between whom he was sitting.
"Madame," said the Chevalier de Tantignac, who was at Eudoxie’s right, "I was once at a dinner where everyone was seated on a chair the height of which was proportioned to his merit; I actually touched the ceiling, and the servants were obliged to stand on stilts in order to serve us."
"Who wants soup? Who has not any soup?" cried Monsieur Férulus, as if speaking to his scholars.
"This is worthy of Heliogabalus," said Monsieur Berlingue.
"Oh! messieurs," said Monsieur de la Pincerie, after swallowing two plates of soup, "I hope to entertain you with better dinners than this! When I have completed my economical schemes, in which I prove that soup can be made without meat, I will show you some amazing soup!"
"I trust that I shan’t dine with him that day," said Monsieur Berlingue to his neighbor.
"You seem to be eating nothing, fair Cornélie?" said Robineau, with a languishing glance at his neighbor.
"I am not hungry, monsieur."
"Ah! that is the way I was the day before yesterday!"
"Your friend Alfred seems to be in very high spirits."
"Yes, he’s a facetious fellow.—Will you have a little of the vol-au-vent?"
"I will take just a taste of it."
"Monsieur Férulus, a taste of vol-au-vent for Mademoiselle de la Pincerie."
Monsieur Férulus had a way of serving by which the choicest bits were always left for himself.
"Who on earth is that gentleman who carves so well and serves us so ill?" asked a young man to whom Férulus had as yet given nothing but legs, necks and bones.
"He is a scholar, a philologist; he manages everything in the château."
"And eats everything too, I should say."
"He knows ten tongues."[10]
"Ah! in that case, I am not surprised that he eats so fast!"
"Who was it who arranged the guests in this way?" inquired Mademoiselle Cornélie; "it seems to me that it’s a wretched arrangement."
"It was my librarian who undertook to do it; but I told him to place me beside you, otherwise the whole thing would have seemed dull and wretched to me.—You drink nothing! here is a certain burgundy——"
"Oh! the idea! Do you expect a woman to drink, and to be a connoisseur in wine?"
"Mademoiselle is right," said Férulus, filling his glass; "wine is not suited to the fair sex; Mecenius killed his wife because she had drunk wine; in the time of Romulus, a woman having broken the seals of a cellar, her kinsmen condemned her to die of starvation!"
"Oh! for heaven’s sake, let us alone with your Romans, monsieur!" said Madame Gérard; "they were impertinent creatures if they prevented their wives from doing as they chose!—Give me some wine, Monsieur Gérard."
"That woman has a very masculine tone," said Eudoxie, turning to Edouard.—"Uncle Mignon, please fetch me my handkerchief, which I left in the salon."
Uncle Mignon regretfully left the table to fetch his niece’s handkerchief, and when he returned, Cornélie sent him to find her reticule. Meanwhile, Monsieur Moulinet went into ecstasies over all that was given him to eat, exclaiming:
"You have a delicious cook, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire."
"She is a woman," said Robineau; "she is a girl of great merit; it was she who won the prize on the greased pole."
"We already know a part of her merits," said Monsieur Berlingue.
"In old days, that girl would not have remained in her kitchen," said Férulus, "Sultan Osman made a gardener who planted cabbages well a viceroy; Anthony gave a Roman citizen’s house to a cook, and Henry VIII, King of England, raised to a post of honor a scullion who had cooked a wild boar to a turn."
"Evidently," said Monsieur Berlingue in an undertone, "that fellow has sworn to make us eat ancient history."
"I have a prodigious talent in the way of cooking," said Tantignac, "although you might not think it. You may judge for yourselves. One day, three of my friends came unexpectedly to dine with me, in an isolated château where I was living; all my servants had gone out, and there were no provisions in my castle. Well! what do you suppose occurred to me? I had an old pair of leather breeches which I no longer wore, and I took it into my head to regale my friends on them; I scraped and cleaned them, put them into the kettle, and made such a delicious sauce for them, that my guests and myself made an excellent dinner!"
"I see nothing so extraordinary in that," said Edouard, who was beginning to weary of Monsieur de Tantignac’s lies; "once I entertained a friend at breakfast with old sheets of parchment stewed à la poulette."
"Oh! upon my word, monsieur," sneered the chevalier, "allow me to tell you that that is a little too much! Parchment would never digest."
"Why, monsieur," said Edouard, "I allowed you to dine on leather breeches; it seems to me that you might in return allow me to breakfast just once on parchment!"
The company laughed heartily, and the Chevalier de Tantignac did not breathe a word during the rest of the meal.
Cornélie was bored at the table, and she requested Robineau to hasten the service, on the pretext that it was not good form to be a long while at dinner; but Monsieur Férulus constantly invented some pretext or found some quotation as an excuse for keeping the dishes which the servants were about to remove. But at last they arrived at the dessert; the ladies, who were burning with the desire to dance, were already suggesting an adjournment to the ball room, when Monsieur Férulus rose and observed in a solemn tone that he had something to sing on a subject which could not fail to interest the company.
Everybody was silent and waited for him to begin; the librarian drank a glass of madeira to give himself courage, and began, to the tune of the lament of the Maréchal de Saxe, a eulogy of Robineau, in which he compared him with Saturn, Sophocles, Cicero and Bayard. The guests glanced furtively at one another, biting their lips. Uncle Mignon alone stuffed himself with biscuits and macaroons, taking advantage of a moment when his nieces left him undisturbed.
As it was plain after the third couplet that Monsieur Férulus did not propose to stop, a faint murmur arose. Robineau, taking that for a sign of approbation, lowered his eyes modestly, and said to Mademoiselle Cornélie:
"He insisted upon singing these couplets. Certainly if I had suspected that he would mention me, I would not have consented."
"Very well, monsieur, then tell him to hold his tongue, and order the coffee at once."
Instead of ordering the coffee, Robineau tried to think how he could demand an encore, as he had promised Férulus to do; but a part of the ladies had already left the table, and the others soon followed their example; the men made haste to drink their coffee, and Monsieur Férulus discovered that he was singing for Uncle Mignon alone; even he was soon called away by his nieces to tie something or other.
"Behold the results of a poor education," said Férulus to himself; "these people put on airs and have no manners! I will go and sing my couplets to Jeannette; she will listen to me or tell me the reason why."
The ball room was decorated as if for a distribution of prizes. The musicians, seated upon raised benches, played false with distressing self-assurance; but when it is a question of dancing, the ladies are always indulgent. Monsieur Robineau opened the ball with Cornélie; Alfred danced opposite them, which aroused a spirit of emulation in Mademoiselle de la Pincerie, who executed her steps with such accuracy that Robineau cried:
"She dances like a geometrician!"
Edouard did not care to dance; amid that crowd, that noise, all those remarks exchanged but unheeded, his thoughts wandered far from the château. But one must do like everybody else; the languishing Eudoxie did not dance, as she found that exercise too violent for her nerves; and to her great amazement Edouard left her to invite another lady.
Despite the accuracy of her steps, Mademoiselle Cornélie was not invited by Alfred for the following dance. Indeed she came very near not dancing at all, because Robineau had felt called upon to invite another partner; but Uncle Mignon was always at hand to make himself useful; his niece called him, and they took their places opposite Alfred, before whom Mademoiselle Cornélie executed nothing but pirouettes.
They had reached the fourth dance when the explosion of a bomb announced the fireworks.
"What! already?" said Robineau; "it is much too soon. François, go and tell Monsieur Férulus not to set them off yet."
But Monsieur Férulus, to avenge himself for their refusal to listen to his singing, had vowed that he would not allow the ball to last any longer than the dinner. He had not awaited the message from François to set fire to the suns and the pin-wheels; and when the valet came with his master’s orders, the librarian replied:
"I am very sorry, but the fire is lighted and I can’t put it out."
When they found that the rockets and suns continued to go off, they decided to leave the ball room and go into the garden where the fireworks were in progress. In the confusion caused by this hurried exit, the gentlemen escorted the first ladies whom they found; Edouard had hurried out among the first, in order to avoid having Madame de Hautmont on his arm. Alfred had led away one of Monsieur Moulinet’s nieces, and Mademoiselle Cornélie, compelled to accept Robineau’s escort, and convinced at last that all her airs and graces produced no effect upon the young man who possessed a hundred thousand francs a year, concluded that it would be prudent not to allow Robineau also to carry his homage elsewhere; so she took his hand with a forced smile, allowed herself to be led by him into the garden, and pretended not to notice that he was taking her into a path which the rest of the company were not following; and not until they reached a decidedly dark spot did she say to him:
"Where in the world are you taking me, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire? Really, you are a cruel man."
At the words "cruel man," Robineau fell at Cornélie’s feet, saying:
"I do not know what I am, but I do know that I adore you; your charms, your dancing, your wit, everything combines to take me captive; I place my fortune and my heart at your feet."
"Well, we will see; I think that—speak to my father."
"But you, ravishing Cornélie?"
"I—I—ah! Mon Dieu! there goes the bouquet, and we are not there!"
The company had in fact arrived only in time to see the bouquet fired, and to receive a few rocket sticks in their faces; but, by way of compensation, Mademoiselle Cheval, Jeannette, Cunette, Vincent, and the scullions had had the best places, and had seen the whole display.
"This will teach them to go away when I am singing!" said Monsieur Férulus to himself, rubbing his hands.
"We should have done as well not to have stopped dancing," remarked the young ladies.
"It seems that these fireworks were discharged for the servants," said Monsieur Berlingue.
Monsieur le Marquis de la Pincerie, who appeared with his brother Mignon just as everybody else was returning, refused to believe that the fireworks had been discharged in his absence; to convince him, Mignon was forced to go out and pick up the sticks, the remains of the cartridges, and bring them to him. The guests returned to the château to resume their dancing, but when they reached the ball room they looked in vain for the orchestra. At the noise of the bombs and rockets, the blind man had fled and his two colleagues had disappeared with him. It is difficult to dance without music, so that the fête came to an end much earlier than had been expected.
Each family took its place in the carriage which had brought it. As Monsieur de Tantignac’s horse had not returned to fetch his master, the chevalier asked permission to make a tenth in the paper manufacturer’s carriage. The chariot of Monsieur de la Pincerie received once more the noble family. Madame de Hautmont entered it in a very bad temper because Edouard had not offered her his hand, which she expected him to do, in order to obtain an opportunity to ask permission to see her again. But Robineau had almost carried Mademoiselle Cornélie to the carriage in his arms, whispering in her ear:
"Prepare your father to listen to me."
At last, all the carriages, cabriolets and chariots had left the château. Cunette closed the gates, calling after them: "God bless you!" Vincent tossed his livery upon his bed. Alfred, fatigued by dancing, and by the walks and conversations of the day, was delighted to retire. Edouard was no less delighted to be left to himself, and free to abandon himself to his thoughts; and Robineau returned to his apartment, saying to Monsieur Férulus:
"It seems to me that the fête was rather fine, I hope that it will be talked about for a long while."
"It will be cited a hundred years hence, monsieur, as a model to be followed. But we did not remain long enough at table."
"And the ball ended much too early. Fancy those rascals of musicians running away during the fireworks! Who in the deuce can have shown the blind man the way?"
Monsieur Férulus made no reply, but he turned his head to conceal a faint smile; then wished Robineau good-night; and he, thinking of the superb Cornélie, decided to go to bed; for one must always end by doing that after a day of festivity and enjoyment, as well as after a day of toil and sorrow.