"Oh! she used to sing that roulade differently from that," said Freluchon; "she marked her notes. Listen! like this:
"That's so. But that last roulade—Listen! I will sing it as she did:
"Exactly! it was just like that."
"And then her air from Les Fraises—how she could sing that! Listen, Freluchon:
"Excellent! I imagine I am listening to your wife!"
Chamoureau continued:
"Perhaps I haven't the words just right, but I'll swear to the tune."
"Yes, yes, we know that," said Edmond, who was beginning to have enough of Chamoureau's singing; but he immediately resumed:
"And the air from Galathée, which Madame Ugalde sang so beautifully—how well Eléonore sang it!
"Sapristi! is he never going to stop singing?" said Edmond in an undertone to his friend, who had turned his head away to laugh. "For heaven's sake, make him keep quiet a moment!"
"Ah! that will be hard, my boy. When a man who has lost his wife begins to sing, there's no reason why he should stop—I say, Chamoureau, we know that tune, too!"
But Chamoureau did not hear; he was shouting at the top of his voice:
The two young men were compelled to listen to the whole of the selection, to which Monsieur Chamoureau added some impossible roulades. When he finally ceased, Freluchon said to him:
"Do you know, Chamoureau, you have a most surprising voice for a widower!"
"Oh! I sang much better when my wife was alive. We often sang duets together; there was one she was especially fond of."
"Great heaven!" muttered Edmond, "does he propose now to sing duets all by himself?" And to change the subject, he said: "Monsieur Chamoureau, have you been to any of the balls during this Carnival?"
"To balls! I!" exclaimed the widower, resuming his grief-stricken expression. "Oh! my dear friend, you forget my sad plight, my misfortune! Is it possible for me to think of amusing myself when my heart is still full of my grief? when my eyes are always looking for Eléonore—for I do look for her all the time, and there are moments when I forget that I have lost her; then, when I hear a woman cry, or speak rather loud—Eléonore always spoke loud—I turn round, thinking that it's she; and then I realize that it was only a delusion and I have to go back to the ghastly reality!—Ah! then, you see, I fall into such utter prostration—the suffering is terrible! You do not suspect how I suffer!"
Chamoureau took out his handkerchief and put it to his eyes.
"Yes, yes," said Edmond, "I see that you are quite inconsolable."
"Yes, monsieur, inconsolable is just the word; you could not express it better!—O Eléonore! you may flatter yourself that you were dearly loved—may she not, Freluchon?"
"Parbleu! of whom do you ask the question?"
"Ah! I do you justice, my dear friend; you regret her almost as keenly as I do! But we will weep for her together—that affords some relief."
"I say, Chamoureau, how lovely your wife was at a ball! How well she danced!"
"Why, my dear fellow, she was Terpsichore in person! she was so light——"
"Yes, your wife was extremely light."[D]
"And so graceful! She didn't dance like other people; she had her own peculiar way of dancing; many women tried to imitate her and failed."
"That is so; she had a way of doing the avant deux. I don't know what the steps were, but it was fascinating."
"I know, I remember perfectly; look, Freluchon, I'll show you."
And Monsieur Chamoureau rose, assumed the third position, hummed a dance tune and began to take steps and go through evolutions, saying:
"Wasn't it like this, eh? How's this for her little swagger, her free-and-easy way?"
"Yes, yes, that's it."
"And the poule—I'll just show you. Come and be my vis-à-vis, Freluchon—I can do it better. Forward, give the right hand. Tra la la la—tra la la la—la la la. Cross over! balancez! salute your partners!—Monsieur Edmond, come, be the lady—in the pastourelle figure.—Tra la la—tra la la."
But Edmond was unable to comply; he was laughing too heartily at Chamoureau's dancing.
The latter stopped at last, after a pirouette which he came very near ending on his nose, and, seeing that Edmond was roaring with laughter, he said:
"What on earth makes you laugh like that? Do you think I dance badly?"
"No, no! on the contrary, you leap like a chamois! But it occurred to me as I watched you going through your steps, that you might imitate your wife much better by going to the Opéra ball with us."
"Oh! upon my word!—you surely don't mean it, Monsieur Edmond! I, go to the Opéra ball—with the burden of grief that I have on my heart!"
"Why, that is an additional reason: it will dissipate your grief."
"Oh! never! on the contrary, nothing can dissipate it, and——"
Freluchon planted himself in front of Chamoureau and said, assuming a very solemn expression:
"Look you, my dear fellow, do you expect to fool us much longer with your inconsolable grief?"
The widower stood thunderstruck and stammered:
"What's that! fool you! What does this mean? For what reason do you ask me that, Freluchon?"
"For the reason that, when a man really has a great sorrow in his heart, he doesn't laugh and sing and dance as you have just been doing; nor does he know where one should go to eat snipe à la provençale."
"All that was in memory of Eléonore, and——"
"You regret your wife, I don't doubt that, and she was well worth the trouble. But I tell you again that you ask nothing better now than to be consoled, and above all to make new conquests."
"Little devil of a Freluchon! What an astonishing creature!—Do you really think that I might make conquests?"
"I will go so far as to promise you some to-night, if you come to the Opéra with us."
"To the Opéra ball with you, my boys! Far be it from me to say that it would be distasteful to me, because, after all, one might as well listen to reason; a man always ends by being consoled, a little sooner or later; but the world is what I dread! What will the world say if I am seen at the masquerade, so short a time after—my calamity? The world is so unkind!"
"Parbleu! if you're afraid to be seen at the ball, there's one very simple means of avoiding it—disguise yourself."
"True, that is an idea. But men don't wear masks, I believe."
"No, but with a fancy costume, a wig, a little rouge and a false nose, I'll undertake to make you unrecognizable."
"Oh! if you'll answer for that, it's all right, I'll run the risk and go with you. By the way, do you disguise yourselves?"
"Oh, no! it isn't worth while; we are not afraid to be recognized!"
"And where shall I find a costume?"
"I know a costumer where you will find a lot to choose from."
"You see, Freluchon, from the moment that I make up my mind to disguise myself, I insist upon being well costumed; I want something that will favor me, something—er—original."
"Let us go softly, Chamoureau, softly! Just now, you were afraid of being recognized, and now you want to attract attention!"
"One may attract attention without being recognized. Suppose I should dress as a woman?"
"The devil fly away with you! As a woman? Why, a man can't make conquests in a woman's clothes; the fair sex dislikes us when we assume its skirts, and it is quite right; when a man rigs himself up in that way he is good for nothing but to arouse laughter or contempt."
"Yes, that's true; I won't dress as a woman; but how shall I dress, then?"
"You can decide at the costumer's and dress there; it's within a few steps of the Opéra."
"All right. But my clothes?"
"The costumer will send them to your concierge."
"Deuce take it! no; I can't have that; I have no desire to go home in a Carnival costume, so that every one may know that I've been to the ball in disguise. A business agent—and sometimes clients call very early in the morning!—A Carnival costume would not inspire confidence."
"Well then, as I live very near the costumer's, let him send your clothes to my apartment; then you can go there and put them on when you please."
"Bravo! in that way, all the proprieties will be observed!"
"Come, messieurs, I trust that we may start now. It is nearly twelve o'clock, and before Chamoureau is dressed——"
"Yes, yes! let us start. Forward, and vive la gaieté!"
"Faith, yes! one must divert one's thoughts; it's an excellent thing."
And the widower went dancing after the two young men.
A few moments after the tall gentleman named Beauregard had left the box where the pearl-gray domino and her friend were seated, a Spaniard entered the ball-room, arm-in-arm with a short young man with a long, thin nose. The reader will at once recognize Chamoureau and Freluchon. The widower wore a costume resplendent with spangles and gold braid. His cherry-colored doublet was heavily trimmed with very rich embroidery, his white satin shortclothes, slashed with red, were decorated with spangles and bows; a gold-fringed sash confined his waist; the flaps of his huge yellow top-boots fell a little too near his ankles, his leg being too deficient in calf to hold them in place. A large ruff about his neck did duty as a cravat; over his shoulder was thrown a small light-blue cloak, lined with white satin; and lastly, he wore on his head a little velvet cap, also blue, covered with false jewels, and surmounted by two enormous white plumes which drooped over the cavalier's left shoulder. To complete his disguise, Chamoureau had donned a brown wig with long curls falling over his neck. He had covered his face with rouge, and, in addition, he wore a false nose to which a pair of moustaches was attached, reaching from ear to ear.
All this formed such a unique whole that everyone in the room turned or stopped short, in order to have a longer look at the Spaniard; and Chamoureau, overjoyed by the effect he produced, and convinced that everybody considered him magnificent, said in Freluchon's ear:
"How they stare at me! eh? I am very glad I chose this costume. I must be superb; I read admiration in every eye! Say, Freluchon, am I not superb?"
"It is a fact that you are well worth looking at; if you should make them pay ten sous each, it would be none too much."
"Oh! you are always joking! But I don't see so rich a costume as mine in the whole place; I am covered with spangles."
"It's enough to make one's eyes ache to look at you; you produce the same effect as the sun!"
"Do my plumes float gracefully?"
"Like a swan on a lake."
"Is my cap well placed?"
"There's nothing wrong but these infernal boots, which keep falling; they are too big."
"It may be that your legs are too much like spindles."
"What a pity to be obliged to wear a false nose with all this!"
"Why is it a pity?"
"Dear me! it's easy to see that. As I am the possessor of rather an attractive face, if I hadn't this false nose, I should be even more fascinating in this costume, and I am sure that I should make conquests in swarms."
"By Jove! that's true; I entirely forgot that you were a handsome man!"
"Still, my wife used to repeat it often enough: 'Ah! how handsome he is, my Chamoureau!'"
"Yes, to the tune of the Postilion de Longjumeau.—But after all, you know, you're under no compulsion to keep your false nose on, if you want to take it off."
"Oh, no! the deuce! someone might recognize me then, and I should be compromised!"
"Try to make a conquest with your nose."
"That's quite possible—Damn these boots!"
And Chamoureau halted to raise the flaps.
"So you are inclined to make a little acquaintance, my inconsolable widower?" asked Edmond, who was walking beside Freluchon and had overheard the Spaniard's last words.
"Oh! my dear Monsieur Edmond," he replied, after adjusting his boots, "you will understand that my heart, my poor heart, will have no part in it! Henceforth nothing will ever touch that; it is dead to love. Eléonore has carried with her all the sentiment it could possibly contain—dear Eléonore!"
"Are you going to shed tears, Chamoureau? they will spoil your rouge."
"No, no, I said that just as I would have said anything else."
At that moment a man dressed as a Swiss woman, with long locks hanging down his back and a number of little brooms in his hand, halted in front of Chamoureau, crying:
"Ah! my hearties! what do I see? A sunbeam disguised as a Spaniard! How brilliant it is! how it gleams! Are you just from Peru, my ducky? It is at the very least Le Cidre or Gusman with a sheep's foot, who knows no obstacle! Isn't he fine, the coco! But while you had the cash, Gringalet, you should have bought some calves, for you lack 'em altogether! and your parapetted boots will fall on the floor!"
The crowd had stopped and formed a circle to listen to the Swiss woman who had attacked the Spaniard.
Chamoureau, being rather disconcerted, began by making sure that his false nose was secure, then muttered:
"If I have no calves, it's fair to presume that I don't care for them."
"How now! is that all you've got to say for yourself, you poor thing? Did you spend all your wit to buy your costume? What a simple air the great clown has! He must be some keeper of turkeys who's been dismissed, and is entirely out of his element when he's no longer surrounded by his flock."
Chamoureau, sorely vexed to be called a keeper of turkeys, retorted sourly:
"Since when have the Swiss been fishwomen, and presumed to insult people like this?"
"Bravo, Chamoureau!" said Freluchon, "that's not bad; go on; drive the nail home!"
"Since they have sold little brooms for flies. Ah! so you're getting angry, Rodrique!—Come, Rodrique, have you any pluck? We'll fight a duel, I with my broom and you with your nose; is it a bargain? You'll have the advantage, as your nose is longer than my broom."
The roars of laughter from the crowd increased Chamoureau's vexation; he hastily dropped Freluchon's arm, for he was laughing louder than the rest, and gliding into a throng of masks, tried to overtake Edmond, who was hurrying after a little débardeur in whom he fancied that he recognized his grisette Amélia. As he was not at all desirous to have Chamoureau always hanging on his arm, he said to him:
"Why did you leave Freluchon?"
"Because he laughed like a fool at the absurd nonsense that a man dressed as a Swiss woman has been spouting at me for the last few minutes; he is a low creature and said the coarsest things to me. The blood was beginning to go to my head, and I left the place, because I might have allowed my anger to carry me beyond bounds."
"For heaven's sake, my dear Monsieur Chamoureau, do you think it necessary to take offence at all the nonsense maskers say to you? If you do, you ought not to come to the ball, and above all things you shouldn't disguise yourself."
"That's so, of course; you are quite right. I was wrong to attach any importance to that foolish talk, it's a Carnival scene and nothing more. Still, I have an idea that Freluchon knew that Swiss woman.—My nose makes me terribly warm, especially because of the moustaches."
"Take them off."
"No, I'm afraid of being recognized.—Drat these boots!—there are some very pretty women here—they're too large, they'll fall down over my heels, and I shall end by walking on them."
"Take them off."
"What's that? you want me to take off my boots, and walk about in my stockings?"
"Why, yes, rather than be discommoded."
"I am not discommoded, for I dance in them."
"What are you complaining about, then?"
"My dear Monsieur Edmond, it seems to me that you don't listen very closely to what I say; you're not interested in our conversation; are you looking for someone here?"
"Parbleu! at a masked ball one should always be looking for someone."
"Ah! indeed! well, that is an idea; but who in the devil is there for me to look for?"
"I thought that I recognized Amélia in a pretty little débardeur who ran away from me. Yes, it must have been she."
"Who's Amélia?"
"A very pretty flower-maker; an animated, saucy face, eyes full of fire, a charming figure, and nineteen years at most."
"Fichtre! how exactly that would meet my views—longing to love, as I do; for at my age, you understand, it makes no difference how much a man may suffer from grief and regret, nature, powerful, fruitful nature always cries out within us and makes us understand that we are not on earth to give all our thoughts to the dead.—Ah! there goes a domino who looked into the very whites of my eyes. What a look! there were a great many things in that look.—We were saying that your Amélia is very attractive, and only nineteen; is she free?"
"Yes, since she left me."
"How long since you parted?"
"This morning."
"That's not long; so it's to be hoped that she hasn't replaced you yet."
"I wouldn't swear to it."
"If she is still free, and we find her, will you permit me to apply for the vacancy?"
"I permit you to do whatever you choose, absolutely."
"Ah! you're very good, on my word! you're not like Freluchon, who will never turn his ex-mistresses over to me; and yet it seems to me that he owes me that much.—A little débardeur, you say? what color? what sort of head-dress?"
Edmond, who was tired of Chamoureau's company and had been trying for several minutes to devise some way of getting rid of him, suddenly exclaimed:
"Did you hear that pink domino who just passed us?"
"No; what did she say?"
"She said to the shepherdess on her arm: 'That Spaniard yonder has turned my head. I tell you, my dear, I'd like to catch him!'"
"Really! you heard that?"
"And the shepherdess replied: 'Very well! speak to him, puzzle him.'
"'Oh! I don't dare, my dear.'"
"She said she didn't dare, eh? Well, I will dare. Where is this pink domino?"
"Look—over yonder, near the Polichinelle. Go quickly, or you'll lose her."
Chamoureau voluntarily dropped Edmond's arm, to run after the person in a pink domino whom he had pointed out.
Having thus rid himself of the widower, young Edmond thought of nothing but finding his last mistress, with whom he was still in love, probably because she had ceased to run after him. Only that morning he had seen Amélia, and they had been on the best possible terms; so that if she avoided him now, it could only be because Freluchon had refused her friend Henriette the money she asked him to lend her.
Why should she espouse Henriette's quarrel? Still, as she lived with her friend, when the latter was obliged to quit her domicile, Mademoiselle Amélia also was turned into the street.
Edmond said all this to himself as he glided through the crowd, running after every woman he saw in a débardeur's costume. He caught one by the arm, but saw that she was not the person he sought, just as she said to him:
"If you'll treat me to supper, I'll stay with you—if not—no, thanks!"
"I would gladly invite you to supper, if I were not looking for someone, whom I took you for at first; but as I hope to find her, I shall sup with her."
"Bah! let her go! She'll sup with three other men perhaps; don't run after her. You're good-looking, I like you; come, dance with me."
"I am sorry to refuse you, but I don't want to dance now; later, I don't say that——"
"Oh, yes! with the other; good-night, little donkey!"
The little débardeur ran away from Edmond, to join the dance; and almost at the same moment the young man's arm was taken by a little blue domino, who said to him:
"She's not the one you are looking for; whom are you looking for, Edmond Didier?"
"Ah! you know me, do you?"
"Yes, I know you very well; also your friend Freluchon with whom you came to the ball. But I don't know the tall greenhorn disguised as a Spaniard, who came with you two, and who was on your arm just now. Mon Dieu! what a stupid-looking creature! and how wretchedly he carries his costume! Such a figure too! Who on earth is that scarecrow?"
"Do you know that you are very inquisitive? you ask such a lot of questions one on top of another!"
"It's because I like to know about things. Won't you answer me?"
"Oh, yes: the Spaniard is a friend of Freluchon, very well-to-do, a business agent, who has just lost his wife and is now trying to find a place for his heart."
"For life?"
"Oh, no! just for a term of years. If you desire to form an agreeable connection, I commend him to you."
"Thanks; he's too clumsy; he does nothing but pull up his boot-flaps, and I am tempted to offer him a pair of garters to keep them in place."
"You would do him a great service."
"Is he better looking without his nose?"
"He's not at all bad-looking."
"What is the idiot's name?"
"It is perfectly evident that you aspire to make a victim of him."
"Oh, no! you are mistaken; but perhaps I might like to have a little fun with him. What's his name?"
"What I am going to do is rather indiscreet perhaps, but as he will be delighted to be mystified, I will tell you his name: Chamoureau."
"Moureau."
"Oh! how well the name suits the man! Chalumeau would be even better, for he looks like a stick; but never mind, Chamoureau is not bad. Ha! ha!"
"And now tell me how you happen to know me?"
"Well; try to guess."
"Faith! I confess that I haven't the faintest idea."
"You have answered only one of my questions. Won't you tell me now what woman you are looking for?"
"Oh, no; such things aren't to be mentioned! As to the Spaniard's name, that's all right! but I won't tell you the name of the person I would like to meet; guess it, if you can."
"It should be the fair Thélénie—Madame de Sainte-Suzanne, if you prefer."
"Ah! you also know——"
"That you have been her lover. Who doesn't know that? But are you so no longer? have you ceased to love her?"
"You are becoming too inquisitive again; I shall not answer that."
"You are unfaithful to her, I see; who in the world has succeeded in captivating you? Come, my little Edmond, take me for your confidante; that's a very modest rôle for me to assume."
At that moment Freluchon rushed up to them, seized Edmond's arm and led him away, saying:
"They're right over there, both of them—dancing. I recognized their Andalusian steps. Henriette is dressed as a Folly; come at once; they don't propose to be recognized, but we'll bring them to it."
Edmond instantly threw off the little blue domino's arm and hurried away with Freluchon.
Two women, each wearing a small mask of velvet, without a barb, and dressed, one as a sort of débardeur, that is to say, in a high shirt, velvet trousers with broad satin bands, a fringed sash and a round hat covered with flowers; the other as Folly, with a fool's bauble in her hand, bells on her arm and legs and cap, around her waist, everywhere, in short,—were dancing with two men whose costumes were eccentric to the last degree.
One, in a Greek tunic, with deerskin breeches and riding-boots, wore a Roman helmet. The other, dressed as a Cupid, with quiver and arrows, had on his head the sort of head-covering usually assigned to Don Quixote, that is to say, a dish turned upside down.
The dancing of these gentlemen was in keeping with their costumes; it was very daring. The man in the helmet whirled his arms about like the wings of a windmill, with terrifying rapidity. The Cupid kicked up his heels almost in the face of his vis-à-vis, and from time to time, when he was doing the cavalier seul, threw himself flat on his stomach and executed the evolution known as the spider. As yet, the two little women had ventured upon nothing more than permissible cancan steps.
"The devil!" said Freluchon, planting himself behind the Folly; "those bucks have a style of dancing that's rather risky for their partners. Look out, Henriette; that Cupid will land his foot in your eye, and that's more dangerous, I assure you, than a kick somewhere else!"
The Folly pretended not to hear and went on dancing.
Edmond meanwhile, standing behind the little débardeur, said to her:
"My dear Amélia, I am very much afraid that your Roman will carry away your nose while he imitates a windmill with his arms; that would be a pity!"
The débardeur, like the Folly, made no reply; but a slight movement of the shoulders betrayed her, and seemed to say:
"Oh! let me alone; you bore me!"
A moment later Freluchon called loudly to his friend:
"I say, Edmond, they turned me out of my lodgings this morning, because I hadn't paid my rent or for my furniture! Did you ever hear such nonsense? Just imagine that my furniture, which I thought was paid for, wasn't!—Well! it didn't take away my spirits; on the contrary, it put me just in the mood to dance and enjoy myself!"
"But I, who lived with you—where am I to sleep?" rejoined Edmond with a laugh; "here am I too without a home!"
"Never fear! we'll find some Roman or some Cupid to give us shelter!—And to think that for lack of four hundred francs I missed the finest match!"
"Nonsense! really?"
"Yes, my dear fellow, a superb match! a flower-maker, thoroughbred, who would have brought me as her dowry, in addition to her virtue, of which I will say nothing, the most agreeable disposition to have me shut up at Clichy,—with or without an eye-glass—in a very short time."
The little woman disguised as a Folly suddenly walked up to Freluchon and said to him under her breath, but in a voice that trembled with anger:
"Monsieur Freluchon, if you don't stop your spiteful remarks, I'll see that you're punished by my partner."
"Ha! ha! ha! so you recognize me now, O fickle Henriette!"
"Yes, I recognize you, but I no longer know you; when a man treats a woman as you treated me this morning, and leaves her in a horrible plight without coming to her assistance, he's a rat! yes, he's worse than a rat, he's a toad![E] and I don't have anything to do with toads!"
"Ha! ha! very pretty! that word, in your mouth, has a wide meaning—inasmuch as your mouth is not small. Is it because you are covered with bells that you put on so many airs to-night? Bless my soul! if you had asked me for nothing more than bells, I'd have given them to you. I didn't know that you were so fond of them as all this! But really, seeing how enthusiastically you dance, and especially these innumerable bells with which you are loaded down, I confess that I can hardly mourn over your terrible plight of this morning.—Come, leave your Don Quixote, who looks to me amazingly like a vender of theatre tickets, and come to supper with us. I'll give you as many kisses as you have bells; isn't that a seductive prospect?"
Meanwhile Edmond was saying to the débardeur:
"Look you, my dear Amélia, after the quadrille, leave your Roman, who looks to me too much like a claquer, and take my arm. We were not at odds this morning, why should we be now? You are wrong to espouse your friend's quarrel. Henriette will make you do all sorts of foolish things; you are too nice a girl to dance with such fellows!"
The young grisette seemed to hesitate; but every time that her friend passed her, she said earnestly:
"Don't speak to these fellows! You know what I told you; it's all over between us if you go back to Edmond. My dear girl, women must stand by each other, or else these men will make fools of us."
"Ah! the pretty bells! Mon Dieu! what a lot of bells!" cried Freluchon, still laughing as he watched Mademoiselle Henriette. "I have seen many Follies, but none that approached this one in the matter of bells! I say, Edmond, if a poodle wore as many bells as this, he'd be mistaken for a mule. Oh! how tickled I should be to have bells on all my clothes instead of buttons!"
The Folly was beside herself with rage; she whispered in her Cupid's ear. The Cupid—Don Quixote was a tall, solidly-built fellow, who had every appearance of being a formidable athlete. He walked up to Freluchon, planted himself directly in front of him, and said in a voice that seemed to issue from a cavern:
"I say, counter-jumper, ain't you about through bothering my partner? Understand that if you don't leave her in peace, her and her bells, I'll knock off your hat with the top of my boot and send it up to the gallery."
"Oho! my handsome Cupid, that's a trick I should be delighted to see," retorted Freluchon in a mocking tone. "Really, it would please me immensely if you should succeed."
"Ah! you want to see it, do you? well, look!"
As he spoke, the Cupid suddenly threw up his leg, expecting to kick Freluchon in the face. But he, by a gesture as quick as thought, seized the leg in its passage, and grasping the ankle in his right hand, squeezed it so hard that the Cupid made a horrible grimace and cried:
"Ten thousand million milliards! Let me go, you hurt me, you squeeze too hard! Let me go, I say!"
"If you had struck my face with your foot, wouldn't you have hurt me, you second-hand Cupid?"
"Look here! just let him go this minute, will you!" observed the gentleman dressed as a Roman, approaching Freluchon with uplifted arm, while the latter still held the Cupid by the leg.
But the little fellow, with his left hand, struck his new adversary a blow that sent him reeling backward; there the Roman fell in with Edmond, who gave him an additional push, while Freluchon suddenly released the Cupid's leg with a violent jerk, so that he fell on his back among the dancers.
Thereupon there was a great outcry on all sides, and, as usually happens, the police appeared on the scene and ordered the combatants to leave the ball-room with them, to explain their conduct elsewhere.
Mesdemoiselles Henriette and Amélia took advantage of the moment when the young men were surrounded to glide among the dancers and disappear.
This scene had taken place almost in front of the box in which the pearl-gray domino and her friend Mademoiselle Héloïse were seated.
A few moments earlier, a little blue domino, the same who had questioned and mystified Edmond, had come to report to the fair Thélénie the result of her conversation with the young man. But when she saw the man she was looking for talking with the little débardeur, and observed the quarrel that followed their conversation, Thélénie at once divined that the woman disguised as a débardeur was the woman for whose sake the man she loved had come to the ball.
Having watched with some anxiety the brief scrimmage which took place during the quadrille, she rose hurriedly and left the box, muttering:
"I will find that woman, and I will see to whom he sacrifices me!"
A few moments later, Edmond and Freluchon returned in triumph to the ball-room. Their adversaries, whose too delirious style of dancing had already been remarked, had been turned out, and when Freluchon offered them his card, they had declined it, saying:
"Thanks! it isn't worth while; we've had enough."
"And now," said Edmond to his friend, as they returned to the ball-room, "let us try to find those girls again."
"Thanks," said Freluchon; "you can look for your Amélia, if it amuses you, but from this moment I no longer know Henriette! I can forgive a woman her infidelities, her lies, her tricks, her humbug! But when a woman tries to make two men fight, I see nothing more in her than an evil-minded wretch whom I despise, and I never speak to her again."
Chamoureau had hastily left Edmond, to run after a pink domino whom Edmond had pointed out to him as having expressed a desire, as she passed them, to make a conquest of the Spaniard.
Our widower pushed and elbowed his way through the crowd, jostled by this one and tossed aside by that one; but at last he succeeded in overtaking the domino who had been pointed out to him, and who had on her arm a poorly dressed shepherdess, without a mask, whose common face suggested a fruit woman enjoying the Carnival.
Chamoureau took his stand in front of the domino and gazed amorously at her. She seemed to pay no heed to him, but pushed him aside so that she could pass. The two women left the dancing enclosure and walked toward the foyer.
But our Spaniard followed them, and they were no sooner in the foyer than he once more placed himself in front of them.
"Well, well! are we bound to find this tall Spaniard in front of us all the time?" said the pink domino to the shepherdess. "Is he chasing us? What on earth does he want of us?"
"My dear, you or me must have made a conquest!"
"Do you think so? Then it must be you, as you are not masked."
"But he seems to be looking at you."
"He looks to me like a big simpleton."
"We might as well have some fun with him while we're waiting for our men to join us."
"We must make him treat us to something."
Notice that this is the constant refrain of the ladies whom one meets at public balls.
While the two women whispered to each other, Chamoureau, with one hand on his hip, assumed a seductive smile and kept his eyes fixed on the pink domino, who finally said to him in a voice that seemed in the habit of crying fish for sale:
"What makes you look in my eyes like that, my handsome Spaniard? Do you know me? If you do, say something to prove it, instead of standing there staring at me like a porcelain dog!"
"I do not know whether I know you, fascinating domino," replied Chamoureau, still smiling, "but I certainly should be most happy to make your acquaintance; and if you have no objection, why then—it seems to me—you understand——"
"Pardi! it isn't hard to understand. You want to make a conquest; you're a seducer—anyone can see that at once!"
"And what about me, do you mean to seduce me too, Spaniard?" inquired the shepherdess, showing an assortment of teeth of different sizes; "you'd find it hard work, for d'ye see, I've vowed an everlasting hatred to men!"
Chamoureau made a faint grimace at the shepherdess's language; but he assumed that she was the pink domino's maid, and he said to her:
"No, I have never cared for shepherdesses; they're too pastoral for me! My homage is addressed solely to your companion—this fascinating domino."
"But suppose I am ugly, my dear man? for you don't know me!"
"Ugly! you can't be that, with such a shapely head, such brilliant eyes! I am sure that you are adorable."
"You might well be cheated, my boy! there's nothing so deceptive as a mask!"
"For my part," interposed the shepherdess, "I don't try to cheat anyone. You can see at once what I look like; then, if I make a conquest, people know what to expect anyway!"
"Fichtre! yes," said Chamoureau to himself, "one can be certain that he hasn't to do with a bluestocking! This shepherdess would do well to leave the pretty domino for a while; but perhaps, when they know me better, they'll consent to separate."
"Tell me, my handsome Spaniard, why do you wear a false nose and moustaches? Are you flat-nosed, that you disguise yourself so?"
"No, I can assure you that I am not flat-nosed."
"Then does your real nose make you so very ugly?"
"I have never been told that I was ill-looking."
"People may have thought so!"
"It is not probable!"
"What a conceited creature!—Well, take off your nose, if you want us to believe you."
"Ah! my pretty domino, you ask me to do something of great importance to me. I have many reasons for not wanting to be recognized!"
"Bosh! you say that to put on airs. Maybe you're some great personage? Are you a State official?"
"No, not exactly; but I have a very good position in society, and I have to be careful."[F]
"Do you move people?" said the shepherdess; "so does my uncle!"
"No, no, I didn't say that. You misunderstood me, little shepherdess."
"Take off your nose, or I shall think you haven't got one underneath."
"Oh! what a shocking supposition! It may be that later, pretty domino, when we are tête-à-tête——"
"Nay, nay, Lisette! My dear man, when you make love to a woman, you must begin by showing her your nose. Isn't that so, Laïde?"
The shepherdess, who answered to the name of Laïde, replied simply:
"How hot it is here! God! how hot it is! And I'm eating dust! My chemise is just sticking to me. I'd like to take something, just the least bit refreshening. Ain't you thirsty?"
"Why, yes, I wouldn't mind a sip! My throat's all parched."
Chamoureau realized that that was the moment to show his gallantry; he offered the domino his arm, saying:
"Accept my arm and some refreshments, lovely masker; I will escort you to the buffet."
"I will accept everything! for this invitation proves to me that you are a noble Spaniard.—Come along with us, Laïde!"
They made their way to one of the buffets which were at each end of the foyer.
"What will the ladies take?" inquired Chamoureau. "Gooseberry wine—lemonade—that's the best thing there is to cool you off."
"I prefer punch," said the pink domino.
"So do I," said the shepherdess; "it's much healthier than all those other things, and I can drink two bowls of it without getting tight."
This naïve admission of the shepherdess made Chamoureau shudder. Luckily for him, punch is ordinarily served in glasses in the foyer. Three glasses were placed before the Spaniard and his guests. The domino and the shepherdess tossed off the punch as if it were champagne, although it was scalding hot. The widower had hardly wet his lips when the ladies had emptied their glasses.
"It's hot! terribly hot! I can't swallow it as you do," said Chamoureau; "it would burn my throat!"
"Ah! the poor boy is afraid of burning himself. I say, ain't you a man? But we ain't going to stay on one leg, I suppose, are we?" said the shepherdess.
"What do you mean by that, girl of the fields?"
"Ah! he don't understand! Where are you from, old no nose? Did they bring you up in a closet?"
"It means, my dear, that we will take another glass of punch; that will make the second leg," said the pink domino, squeezing the Spaniard's arm with great force; and he, delighted to be squeezed, called at once:
"Waiter, more punch for these ladies!"
"Oh! if I should take any more, it would make me dizzy!"
"What an oyster!" whispered the pink domino in the shepherdess's ear.
"We need that kind," was the reply; "they're the attraction of the ball; I have always liked oysters myself."
More glasses of punch were brought, which the two women put out of sight as quickly as the first. Then Chamoureau lost no time in paying the bill and leading his companions away from the buffet, for fear they would express a wish to go on three legs.
Meanwhile, our Spaniard, thinking that the punch with which he had regaled the ladies entitled him to become enterprising, ventured, in the crowd, to place one hand on a spot where the pink domino might have worn hoops. She turned upon him instantly, saying:
"Have done with such pranks, false nose! What sort of behavior is that? what do you take me for?"
"Lovely masker, my hand went astray involuntarily."
"Look out that it don't go astray again in that direction."
"I only did it to find out——"
"Whether I wore steel skirts, eh?"
"Exactly."
"Well, I don't need such things; I'm plump enough not to wear substitutes.—What in the world's the matter with your boots?"
"Nothing. They're too big; they keep falling."
"Why didn't you wear hoop-skirts on your legs? they wouldn't be out of the way."
"Are you free, pretty domino, or under the control of a husband?"
"What makes you ask me that? Do you want to marry me?"
"Why, when one desires to form a loving intimacy, isn't it natural to find out, first of all, the situation of the person one desires?"
"Aha! so you desire me, my tall hidalgo! in that case, you are going to treat me and my friend to a stick of candy; if you don't, I won't allow you to desire me."
"Oh, yes! candy!" cried the shepherdess. "Besides, I promised to take some home to my little brother. And then, all the women have a stick in their hands. It takes the place of a fan; it looks very nice."
Chamoureau considered that the ladies who go to the Opéra ball are decidedly gluttonous, but it was impossible to draw back.
They were near the other buffet at that moment; the pink domino and the shepherdess selected a stick of candy each, and they did not take the smallest.
"How much?" asked the Spaniard.
"Ten francs."
"What! ten francs for candy?"
"A hundred sous each for the sticks the ladies took; two make ten francs."
"Come, my noble friend, pay up!" laughed the pink domino. "You certainly don't mean to haggle, do you? You'll make one believe you're not a noble Castilian at all, and that you learned all you know of Spain in Vaugirard!"
"No, no, I am not haggling!" said Chamoureau, making a horrible grimace under his false nose. "But I'm afraid I haven't the change."
"We'll change a note for you, monsieur."
While our widower took his purse from under his belt and inspected the contents, the shepherdess said to the pink domino in an undertone:
"My dear, there's our men over yonder, by the door, where we agreed. They're looking for us, no doubt."
"In that case, let's be off, while that tall donkey has his false nose in his purse."
Chamoureau changed a forty-franc piece to pay for his candy, and, when he had received his change, turned to where the two women had stood, flattering himself that his gallantry entitled him to the most delicious reward. But instead of the pink domino, his false nose almost came in contact with the eye of a mustachioed individual, who said to him very sharply:
"For heaven's sake, be careful! Sapristi! do you take my face for a full moon, that you try to bury your nose in it?"
Chamoureau made no reply; he was busily engaged in looking for his conquest; but in vain did he gaze in every direction: his two ladies had vanished.
In his amazement, our Spaniard applied to the woman at the desk.
"Do you know which way they went?"
"Who, monsieur?"
"The two ladies who were with me just now and whom I treated to candy at a hundred sous a stick."
"No, monsieur."
"But they were right here, by my side, only a moment ago. I don't understand it at all!"
A crowd of young men and dominos rushed up to the buffet, pushing Chamoureau aside and shouting:
"Come, off you go, Spaniard! You've had enough to drink; make room for others!"
"I beg your pardon, messieurs, I am looking for a lady."
"Go to the deuce! You won't find your lady! Ohé! what a phiz! Ah! now he's losing his boots! Look out, or you'll lose your nose next! Ha! ha! what a ridiculous figure! Oh! that nose!"
At a masked ball, as soon as a few people begin to jeer at a person in disguise, the crowd collects and swells the chorus; and as the widower was a decidedly laughable figure in his ornate costume, and with his false nose and moustaches, bursts of laughter arose on all sides as he passed, and he was followed by people who shouted in his ears:
"Oh! that nose! Look at that Spaniard's nose!"
"That man has been deceived by women."
"He must have made a fool of himself for them."
"Don't you see that monsieur is a foreigner who has come to France to study refined manners?"
"No, no; he's a joker, who made a bet that he would look more like an ass than anybody else at the ball."
"Well, he has won! he has won!"
All these remarks were accompanied by loud laughter which made Chamoureau frantic.
To escape the ovation with which he was honored in the foyer, he rushed through one of the doors, sought the place where the crowd was most dense, and succeeded in reaching the corridor. He went up one flight, and as he neared the top, tore off his false nose.
"I'll take it off," he thought; "if I don't they'll recognize me by it and never stop following me. There—now that I no longer have that nose, I like to think that I shall not be noticed. But it's a very singular thing: I come here masked, or practically so, so that no one may know who I am, and I have to take off my mask to avoid being recognized!—After all, I was suffocating with that nose and those moustaches. I am much more comfortable this way.—But I can't understand the conduct of my two ladies. I treat them to punch and enormous sticks of candy, and they leave me! they disappear without saying a word to me! Perhaps they saw their husbands, or lovers whose jealousy they fear. They dreaded a scene if they were discovered with me. That must have been the reason for their disappearance. I fancy they didn't belong to the first society. Their language was a little free, and the shepherdess's especially wasn't the purest French; but the pink domino had a very neat figure—and no hoop-skirts! I shall find her again, I hope.—With all this I have lost Freluchon and Monsieur Edmond.—But they adore the monster galop, and I am sure of finding them when the time comes for that.—But five glasses of punch at a franc a glass, five francs, and ten for candy,—fifteen francs in all! that's rather high for an intrigue that is hardly begun! If she had even given me an assignation for to-morrow! I should have exacted that before handing over the candy."
As he pursued these reflections, Chamoureau walked along the corridor on the second floor, looking into every box in search of his pink domino.
He had his face against one of the little panes of glass, when he felt a hand on his arm; he turned; a Norman peasant, masked, was hanging on his arm, and she said to him in a wheedling voice:
"Here you are, Chamoureau, my sweet Chamoureau! Ah! what a good idea to take off your false nose, and how much better-looking you are now! When one has a face like yours, one shouldn't conceal it; do you hear, my friend?"
Our widower felt a thrill of pleasure at hearing such compliments addressed to himself. He would gladly have kissed the mask worn by the Norman, to show his satisfaction, but he contented himself with pressing her hand and arm most tenderly, saying:
"What, my charming peasant—do you know me?"
"Do I know you! Why bless my soul! who doesn't know you, O Chamoureau of my heart? It was wholly on your account, to meet you, that I came here."
"Really? But I had no idea myself that I should come. Our party wasn't made up till very late in the evening."
"But I was certain that you would come; my little finger told me."[G]
"Is your little finger such a magician as that?"
"Yes, for it told me that you would be disguised as a Spaniard; that you would have top boots which would cause you much annoyance——"
"By Jove! this is marvelous!"
"That you would make love to a pink domino and a shepherdess; I saw you with them just now."
"It's the truth; I don't deny it."
"You even offered them candy."
"Offered! you mean that they asked me for it."
"It's the same thing. You gave them each a stick; so I hope you'll give me one too, as I came to the ball solely to see you."
"If you came to the ball solely to see me, you ought not to care for candy."
"I care to have you as generous to me as to others—as gallant—as attentive—as amorous; will you be? Tell me, O my Chamoureau! for I love you, I am on fire for you, as you see!"
"Really, lovely Norman, you manifest sentiments which flatter me; but how do you know me?"
"If I should tell you, you would be greatly surprised; but I won't tell you—not here, at all events; later, when you come to my house, we shall see."
"You have a house?"
"Yes, my boy, one of the very swellest in the Chaussée d'Antin."
"Then you are rich?"
"Who isn't rich to-day? unless he's as stupid as a pot!"
"True; your reflection is very clever. And you are free?"
"As free as air!"
"And you will receive me?"
"You shall have the entrée every day. Come this way; there's another buffet, where they sell candy."
Chamoureau submitted to be led to the buffet in the corridor on the second floor; he could refuse nothing to a woman who declared that she had come to the Opéra on his account.
The Norman selected a stick of the same size as those selected by the pink domino and the shepherdess; she drank a glass of gooseberry wine, then took the Spaniard's arm again, saying:
"Mon Dieu! how wise you were to take off your nose! you are a hundred per cent. better looking!"
"But you, charming peasant, won't you take off your mask? You must divine my longing to gaze upon your features."
"It's not necessary, you know me already."
"Really! I know you?"
"Yes, and you like me very much."
"As for that, I can readily believe it; however, I would be glad to see you, so that I may recall where I have seen you before."
"You shall see me at my house on Rue de la Pépinière, opposite the barracks."
"What number, and whom shall I ask for?"
"The number's of no consequence, you'll see me at my window."
"But where shall I look for your window? This is rather vague."
"I'll toss you a bouquet."
"Very good; but still I——"
At that moment, a young man who wore no mask walked along the corridor, arm-in-arm with a little woman dressed as a dairymaid, to whom he was talking very earnestly. Instantly Chamoureau's companion stopped, crying:
"It's he! it's Adolphe! Ah! the traitor! the monster! I am sure he's with Malvina!"
And dropping the arm that she held, the Norman peasant ran after the couple and halted in front of the young man.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, "so I've caught you, you villain! you infamous traitor! You couldn't come to the ball with me! Monsieur was sick; he had the colic! And you refused to bring me, to come here with this little minx! But I'm not such a fool, my boy; you don't make me swallow such rubbish; I had an idea that I should catch you here."
"Come, come, Clorinde, don't make a scene; you know how I dislike them! Don't shout so loud!"
"I'll shout as loud as I please, and you can't make me keep quiet, you wicked rascal, for whom I sold my gold chain not a fortnight ago, and who throws my money away on other women!"
"You talk like a fool, Clorinde; if I have spent the money for your chain, I've spent plenty more with you!"
"You greenhorn! you, who had boots with holes in 'em and paper collars! Ah! this is too much, on my word! And you think that I'll let you strut about with your Malvina—for that's Malvina on your arm."
"Not at all, you are mistaken; it's a masker whom I met by chance, and whom I tell you to treat with respect."
"Ouiche! I'll treat her with respect; your charmer doesn't seem to have any tongue; she doesn't open her mouth! If it isn't Malvina, why doesn't she speak? But we'll soon see."
During this dialogue, the little dairymaid, who seemed to be all of a tremble, clung to her escort's arm; but the Norman suddenly snatched away her mask and cried:
"Ah! it wasn't Malvina! Ah! I was mistaken, was I? You are caught, traitor! As for you, little one, you know what I promised you if you ever went with Adolphe. I don't go back on my word—take that!"
As she spoke, the peasant dealt the dairymaid a powerful blow on the cheek; the latter attempted to take her revenge and to return the blow she had received from her jealous rival; but as Monsieur Adolphe had taken advantage of the battle to make his escape, the Norman ran after him, crying:
"It's no use for you to run away—I'll find you. Come, Adolphe, don't run; I am not angry any more. Malvina has what she deserves, that's all I wanted."
And the peasant disappeared in the crowd, while the little dairymaid replaced her mask and tried to readjust her disordered costume.
"Oh! the fishwoman!" she exclaimed; "is it possible that there can be such ill-bred women! But she shall pay me. I'll go to see her man—the fat hosier who is ruining himself for her; I'll tell him about all the games she plays on him. Bless my soul! there's enough of 'em to cover the city wall."
One gentleman had been a silent spectator of this scene, which, however, seemed exceedingly distasteful to him. The reader will guess that it was Chamoureau, who saw his second conquest escape him with the stick of candy which he had presented to her.
"How is this?" he said to himself at last; "she assured me that she came to the Opéra this evening solely to see me, and she was on the watch for one Adolphe! She told me that she loved me, that she was on fire for me, and she leaves me to go and kick up a jealous row with that young man—and she beats the girl he has on his arm!—The deuce! what a wench! it's a bad move to deceive her. She told me that she was very rich, that she had a fine house on Rue de la Pépinière. The little dairymaid declares that she is kept by a hosier. What am I to believe out of all that? The one thing that is certain is that she has run after her Adolphe. I am very sorry that I bought the candy for her! but she said such pleasant things to me and pressed my arm so affectionately! O these women! I'll not trust them again; and yet it would be very cruel to have come to the Opéra ball without making a single acquaintance! What would those fellows think of me?"
In his disappointment, Chamoureau decided to go up another flight. There were fewer people in the corridor on the third floor, but the couples were more amorous in proportion to their scarcity; they talked into each other's faces, gazed into each other's eyes, held each other's arms or waists; and sometimes in the ardor of conversation, the hand strayed over a shapely figure.
Our widower observed all this, and his regret that he was alone became all the keener.
"All these people are very fortunate!" he said to himself; "they have love-affairs, intrigues under way. I am well aware that I too have been intrigué—mystified,—but nothing has come of it; for frankly I believe that I should have been very foolish to walk on Rue de la Pépinière, in the hope that a bouquet would be thrown to me from a window! That Norman must have been lying to me. My wisest course now is to join Freluchon and Edmond, so that I may go to supper with them. Still, it is annoying not to take someone with me to the supper; for I'll wager that each of them will have a little woman! Their luck is beyond my comprehension! I suppose that it's the same as in gambling: some people always win and others never do!"
As he communed thus with himself, Chamoureau noticed a black domino, also walking alone, who had passed very close to him again and again within a few minutes, glancing constantly in his direction. It was a woman above middle height, very slender—too slender, in fact, because she was so everywhere; a few wisps of fair hair escaped from beneath her hood which came well over her forehead. The black mask was provided with a very ample barb; it was impossible to obtain a glimpse of any feature. The domino was simple and shabby, and the shoes were not elegant. But she was a lone woman, who had every appearance of being in quest of an adventure, and Chamoureau also pined for one.
"I will venture once more," he said to himself; "perhaps I shall have better luck this time!" and he approached the thin domino.
"It's very hot, is it not, lovely masker?"
"Yes, it's extremely warm here."
"Still, there are fewer people here than downstairs."
"True; it's much less crowded; it's more comfortable here."
"But I believe the heat ascends."
"Do you think so? it's quite possible; no doubt it does ascend."
"Otherwise it would be cooler here than downstairs."
"Oh! yes, of course; if it were cooler here——"
"They would feel the heat more downstairs."
"She converses very agreeably," said our widower to himself. "She doesn't try to be bright, to make fun of me, as the others did. I like this way better; I feel more at ease with this stranger, and something tells me that I have at last found what I sought. She doesn't try to mystify me; but after all, I prefer that she shouldn't know me; then, if I choose, I can retain my incognito with her."
The black domino stood beside the Spaniard, apparently waiting for him to renew the conversation. He, after pulling up his boots, decided to offer her his arm, murmuring in honeyed tones:
"Will you take a turn or two in the corridor with me?"
"With pleasure."
"You are not expecting anybody?"
"No, I am not expecting anybody."
"You are quite sure? Pardon me for asking the question, but, you see, I have been walking with several ladies, and they all left me abruptly, to run after other men! Frankly, I don't care to take the risk of having that happen again."
"Oh! don't be afraid, monsieur; I am not capable of such conduct. I see clearly that I have to do with a comme il faut gentleman, and if you knew me better you would understand that you can place entire confidence in me. I have never known what it was to make sport of a man—I can safely take my oath to that; and I flatter myself that I enjoy an excellent reputation in the house where I lodge."
All this was said in the tone of a servant applying for a position and announcing her readiness to refer to her former employers.
But Chamoureau was delighted; he was sure that he had found what he wanted, and he pressed the arm that lay in his as he rejoined:
"What you tell me gives me great pleasure. I believe you; there is an accent of truth in your words."
"Besides, you can ask my employers if they are not satisfied with me."
"Your employers?"
"To be sure—the people I work for."
"Ah! you work—in a shop?"
"Yes, monsieur; oh! I don't set up for a princess myself! I told you that I had no desire to deceive anyone."
"That is very nice of you, and I can only praise your frankness. Might I inquire what branch of trade you are in?"
"I work for a shoemaker, monsieur; I sew ladies' shoes."
Chamoureau was not so well pleased with this admission; he would have preferred a milliner or a flower-maker; however, he said to himself:
"After all, there are some very pretty shoe-stitchers; if she is virtuous enough to have only one lover, I shall have made a lucky find all the same; she's a little thin, but she must be pretty. I'll tell Freluchon that she's in the ballet at the Cirque. She's a blonde, and I don't dislike blondes.—Tell me, lovely domino," he said aloud, "did you come to the ball alone?"
"No, monsieur, I came with a friend of mine; but she was looking for someone, and when she met him, I left them; I was afraid of being in their way."
"That was most thoughtful! So then you are free?"
"Yes, monsieur, entirely free!"
"And no previous entanglement—no liaison?"
"Oh! none at all! absolutely none! I can safely swear that it's two years since I have walked alone with a gentleman."
Chamoureau was in raptures at the thought that he was walking with a woman to whom such a thing had not happened for two years. In his enthusiasm he said to himself:
"With this one I can safely try a stick of candy; she deserves it more than the others did; her frankness and innocence are worthy of the prize of virtue!"
And he escorted his domino to the buffet, saying:
"Pray, take something."
"Oh! you are very kind, monsieur, but I am not thirsty."