Part 9

Beyond the piano was a card-table, at which four persons were playing the inevitable whist. First, there was a lady evidently on the wrong side of forty, but who had once been very pretty, and who still produced a brilliant effect by artificial light, thanks to an extremely careful toilet, in which were employed all those invaluable cosmetics which help to prevent a lady from appearing old. Furthermore, Madame de Mirallon--such was her name--wore diamonds of very great value at her neck and in her ears. But those who claim that diamonds embellish a woman are entirely mistaken; we should say simply that they enrich her; and, in this connection, we may well remember the remark of Apelles: "You make her rich, because you cannot make her beautiful."

At this lady's right was a man of about fifty years, with an intelligent and distinguished face, somewhat cold and reserved in manner, but unimpeachably courteous, even when, in the course of conversation, he indulged in a stinging retort. He spoke but little, however, and his dress and bearing were perfectly consonant with his age. He was Monsieur Clairval.

Opposite him was a young man, neither handsome nor ugly, but dressed with extreme care, and with a head of hair worthy to figure in a wig-maker's show-window. It should be said that the young dandy was the proud possessor of a forest of chestnut locks, a fertile field for the invention of a hair-dresser. Monsieur Anatole de Raincy--such was the young man's name--played cards in straw-colored gloves, moulded to a pair of tiny hands of which he seemed to be very proud, and which he kept always in evidence. To complete the portrait, we must add a small light chestnut moustache, eyeglasses, and a constant lisp in his speech.

The fourth whist player, who was the lady's partner, was a man about forty years old, a faded blonde, with a conceited and idiotic air; a doll's face, from which protruded a pair of great eyes which were always rolling from side to side with an astonished expression--an expression which never varied. He bowed whenever anyone spoke to him, and found a way to pay compliments to everybody, accompanying his speeches with a conventional smile, which he retained even when he was listening to others; all of which may afford you in anticipation an accurate idea of the ingenuousness of this individual, whose name was Batonnin.

An old beau, of at least sixty years, but who affected the dress, the gait, and all the manners of a young man, fluttered about the table, dancing attendance on the ladies; his face alone persisted in betraying his age, although its owner did his utmost to avoid the scrutiny of the curious. But his cheeks, which had fallen in on account of the loss of his teeth, a very long nose, purple at the end, and an assortment of wrinkles which streaked his temples, made it impossible for that face to create an illusion. As for the hair, it was of a fine, glossy black, which proved that he wore a wig.

Such was Monsieur le Comte de la Beriniere, a venerable dandy, who still possessed a handsome fortune, although he had consumed a portion of his means by living like a prince, and paying assiduous court to the fair sex. Monsieur de la Beriniere's great fault was his obstinate belief that he was still young and fascinating, and his consequent persistence in seeking to make conquests. However, being descended from an illustrious family, and having all the manners of a grand seigneur, the count, albeit he had not overmuch intelligence, had, at all events, the merit of being always amiable and cheerful; and, as we see, he had never chosen to meddle with any but the attractive features of life. We may add that he had never married.

The count left the whist table, and, approaching Madame Monleard, examined her embroidery.

"Ah! what pretty work that is you are doing, belle dame! Why, you seem to possess all the talents!"

"Mon Dieu! I haven't so very many!"

"Is it a rug you're making?"

"No; it's a design for a footstool."

"What a lucky dog Monleard is! He has married a treasure!"

"You exaggerate, monsieur le comte."

"No, I say what I think; and if I had known you earlier---- Oh! I know what I'd have done! Ah! Dieu!"

"What a sigh! Ha! ha! ha!"

"It makes you laugh to hear me sigh?"

"Why, what other effect should it have on me?"

"Ah! women are cruel sometimes. But, no matter! if I had known you before Monleard, I would have solicited the honor of making you Comtesse de la Beriniere."

"What nonsense!"

"Oh! I am not joking. But fate willed otherwise. And I say again that Monleard is a lucky dog.--By the way, how is his arm?"

"It is improving slowly; he can't use it yet."

"It's a long while getting well.--And to think that that accident happened the very day after your wedding!"

"Yes, the next day."

"He fell on the stairs, I believe?"

"Yes, he slipped, and fell on his arm."

"For heaven's sake, Monsieur de la Beriniere, do come and advise my partner, Monsieur Batonnin. Upon my word, he's been making mistake after mistake!"

"It must be my pleasure in playing with you, madame, that distracts me," rejoined the little man with the protruding eyes, bowing to his partner.

"In that case, monsieur, moderate your pleasure, I entreat you, and don't trump my kings any more."

The count regretfully quitted the young bride and returned to the card-table, saying:

"But monsieur doesn't need my advice; he plays very well."

"Oh! you are too good, monsieur!"

"I am well aware that Monsieur de la Beriniere prefers to pay court to the ladies rather than watch the game!" rejoined Madame de Mirallon, in a tone which she intended to be ironical, but in which there was a slight tincture of mortification; "but he can afford to spare us a few moments."

"Whatever is agreeable to you, I will do, madame."

"Indeed! But it did not suit your pleasure to join our game?"

"Madame, if you would kindly attend to your play----"

"Oh! Monsieur Clairval is so severe!"

"No, madame; but we don't usually talk when we're playing whist."

"Mon Dieu! if one must never say a word---- Ah! Monsieur Batonnin, that is too cruel! Don't you remember my signal?"

"I beg your pardon, madame; but no man is required to do the impossible."

"I don't understand proverbs."

"That means," observed the count, with a laugh, "that monsieur has no club."

"That makes no difference; his game was to play one."

"Let us put our cards on the table, and play that way; it will be simpler," interposed Monsieur Clairval.

"I had thutht ath lief; I played that way onth, a three-handed game with a dummy."

"Monsieur de Raincy, I might justly complain, as well as madame; but I see that this is an evening of absent-mindedness."

"Why, what did I do wrong. I don't thee----"

"Oh! I shall tell you later."

"I flatter mythelf that I play a fine game of whitht."

"You are quite right!"

"Well, Monsieur Batonnin! well! what are you thinking about?"

"I thought you would trump, madame."

"We've lost the odd--and it's your fault."

"We have won."

"Now for the rubber!"

"I beg you, Monsieur de la Beriniere, stand behind Monsieur Batonnin.--Oh! he doesn't listen to me! he has gone to pay his court to Mademoiselle Adolphine. What a butterfly that man is, and when will he sober down?"

"It seems to me," observed Monsieur Clairval, with a smile, "that it would be rather hard for him to change his habits now."

The count had, in fact, approached Adolphine, who was still pretending to be absorbed in the music-books, and who apparently did not see that anyone was by her side.

"You are fond of music, mademoiselle?"

"Ah!--I beg your pardon. Yes, monsieur, very."

"Do you sing?"

"A little."

"Young ladies are never willing to admit that they sing more than a little. I don't refer to you, mademoiselle. I am told that your voice is very sweet and true."

"Your informant flatters me, monsieur."

"Shall we have the pleasure of hearing you this evening?"

"I don't know at all, monsieur. But, if it will gratify my sister----"

"Your sister, of course; but the whole company as well."

"Oh! whist players care but little for singing."

"You are more or less right; that game makes savages of people--ferocious savages, I may say. Whist enthusiasts close the door when there is singing in the next room. I verily believe, that, if you told them the house was burning down, they'd insist on finishing their _rub_ before making their escape."

"You see that it would be very unkind of me to sing."

"Pardon me, I am not playing; and what do you care if----"

"Monsieur de la Beriniere, in the name of your ancestors, come and show Monsieur Batonnin how to play; it's very important! We are playing the rub, and I don't want to lose it through my partner's misplay."

"That Madame de Mirallon is a terrible creature, really! Ah! when women grow old, they gain in exactingness what they lose in attractions; and the compensation isn't sufficient."

Having indulged in this muttered reflection, the count returned to his station behind Monsieur Batonnin; and Madame de Mirallon bestowed a long and searching glance upon him as she said:

"It's very hard to keep you, now!"

And the _word_ now brought a smile to the lips of Monsieur Clairval, who said to his partner:

"Come, Monsieur de Raincy, we must stand to our guns; we are playing against three."

XX

A NEWLY MARRIED PAIR

Adolphine left the piano and sat down beside her sister.

"I am sure that you are annoyed, Fanny, because your husband doesn't come home."

"I? Mon Dieu! I wasn't thinking about him at all. If he stays away, it is probably because he has business to attend to. You don't understand business, you see, Adolphine; you don't know that, if you want to make a lot of money, you must sometimes deprive yourself of a little pleasure."

"No, it's true, I don't understand money matters; but I thought that two people just married could not be happy apart, that they must be horribly bored when they're not together."

"Oh! my dear girl, there's reason in everything. And then, we have plenty of time to be together."

"Still, when you marry for love--and Monsieur Monleard certainly seemed to be in love with you---- Is that all over already?"

"Why--no--but when two people are once married, they're no longer like two lovers. You'll find that out some day, my little sister! I still call you little, although you're taller than I."

"Ah! I know that I could never love as placidly as you do!--I was afraid that your husband might be angry with you on account of that duel."

"Auguste has too much good sense and breeding to charge me with the folly and extravagance of another, as a crime. It's not my fault that another man was in love with me!"

"Oh! that poor Gustave! He did love you so dearly!"

"Oh, yes! I advise you to pity him! He behaved nobly, didn't he? To go shouting jeremiads in the street, and end by sending someone to fight in his place! Fie! it was shameful!"

"Fanny, you judge Gustave too harshly; do you impute it to him as a crime, that he didn't insult your husband? Oh! he probably would have done it, if his uncle hadn't dragged him away, almost by force, from that restaurant, where he absolutely insisted on speaking to you."

"How do you know all that?"

"Because it was I who sent word to Monsieur Grandcourt that his nephew was at the restaurant where the wedding was being celebrated."

"Oh! yes, so you told me. That fellow wanted to make a scene--and by what right? Was I obliged to marry him, I should like to know?"

"You allowed him to believe that you loved him."

"Nonsense! because a woman listens to the soft things these men say to her, because she smiles when they sigh, they instantly assume that she adores them. A fine position he offered me, didn't he? Three thousand francs a year--magnificent!"

"If you had really loved him, you wouldn't have cared about his wealth."

"Oh! I'm not romantic like you. With Auguste, I have a coupe at my orders, and I find it very pleasant. I tell you again, your Monsieur Gustave is an idiot!"

"Ah! Fanny, it's wicked for you to talk like that; to treat him so, just because he loved you sincerely."

"Much I care about his love! His behavior was none the less blamable. What excuse had he for sending that tall ruffian to insult me when I left the ball--which, of course, compelled Auguste to fight with the fellow?"

"I would take my oath that Monsieur Gustave never told that person, with whom he had dined, to say a single insulting word to you. Besides, Monsieur Grandcourt took his nephew away long before you left the ball. That man, who presumed to address an offensive remark to you, was drunk; he had already had trouble with some of the gentlemen, for he insisted on offering his arm to the ladies when they arrived for the ball."

"Then, my dear girl, you will agree that your Monsieur Gustave has some very low acquaintances?"

Adolphine made no reply, but sadly lowered her eyes. A moment later, her sister continued: "What surprises me is that I haven't once seen Monsieur Gustave, or met him anywhere, since my wedding. For a man so dead in love, not to try to see me at my window, at least once---- You see that he is consoled, so soon."

"He is not in Paris. His uncle forced him to start for Spain the very next day."

"Ah! he's in Spain? that makes a difference! But you seem to know all about him. From whom, pray?"

"Father met Monsieur Grandcourt not long ago, and he told him that his nephew was in Spain."

"Ah! someone has just rung."

"It's your husband, no doubt."

"If it's he, we shall see him in a moment."

It was not the master of the house who entered the salon, but Monsieur Gerbault, who, like an affectionate father, began by kissing his daughters.

"Good-evening, father," said Fanny. "Why didn't you come to dinner, with Adolphine? My husband didn't like it."

"I couldn't, my dear child. Adolphine must have told you that I had promised a gentleman from the provinces----"

"A fine reason! You should have sent your gentleman from the provinces off somewhere to dine by himself."

"No, when I have promised, I keep my promise. Where is your husband, by the way?"

"He had somebody to see to-night. He'll be at home soon."

"There! we have lost! I knew it!" cried Madame de Mirallon. "Ah! Monsieur Batonnin, I will never forgive you those six counters!"

"But, madame, I am well paid by the pleasure of having been your partner."

"Luckily, Monsieur Gerbault is here. He knows how to play! Come and take a hand, Monsieur Gerbault."

"I do not care to play any more," said De Raincy; "when I have played two rubberth, I have had enough; it maketh my head ache."

As he spoke, the nattily-gloved youth left the card-table and joined the two sisters.

"Were you at the Bourse to-day, Monsieur de Raincy?" inquired Fanny.

"Thertainly, madame; I go there every day."

"How were the Orleans and Lyon Railway shares?"

"Very thtrong, madame."

"Do you think they'll go higher?"

"Why, yeth, I think tho; unleth they go down."

"That's rather a vague opinion."

"I never have any definite opinion. At the Bourth one ith tho often mithtaken! But your huthband can keep you pothted better than I can. He ith alwayth there; he theemth to be interethted in thome big dealth."

"Auguste? True, but he doesn't like to have me ask him how the market is going; he declares that women know nothing about it; that they ought to attend to spending the money, not to making it."

"I fanthy that ith the general rule among the ladieth."

"I think differently. Oh! if I had been a man, I would have been a stock-broker!"

"Do you mean it! There are thome of them who have to put up with lotheth. Ah! here'th our dear Monleard!"

Fanny's husband had just arrived; he wore his right arm in a sling; he was very pale, his face was careworn, and his eyes almost sombre. However, finding guests in his salon, he instantly assumed the affable manner which a host should always display. Young De Raincy hastened to go to shake hands with him.

"Good-evening! dear boy."

"Good-evening! Anatole. Messieurs, mesdames, your servant!"

The Comte de la Beriniere also shook hands with Monleard, crying:

"Ah! here's the lucky man! the fortunate husband! So you still offer your left hand, eh?"

"What would you have! it's not my fault that I can't use my right."

"Why the devil do you want to fall on the stairs? You're too careless--and the day after your wedding, too! I'll stake my head you were running to your wife?"

"Just so!" Auguste replied, with a glance at Fanny, who simply smiled, without raising her eyes from her embroidery frame.

"I was sure of it! It was his haste, his love for you, belle dame, which caused his accident. Ah! your eyes are very dangerous! But, after all, as love caused the destruction of Troy, it may well make a man slip on the stairs."

"Monsieur de la Beriniere, pray come here a moment."

"Gad! Madame de Mirallon can't seem to get enough of me this evening. It's a conspiracy! Can she have conceived the idea of monopolizing me?"

And the count, who had made these remarks in an undertone, added aloud:

"But, madame, I see that Monsieur Batonnin is no longer your partner; Monsieur Gerbault has taken his place, so you can have no reason to complain now."

"Ah! what a cruel man you are! I wanted to show you an extraordinary hand."

"Mon Dieu! she has shown me her hand often enough!" muttered the count, turning toward young De Raincy; "I don't care to see it any more."

Auguste, having shaken hands with his father-in-law, and said a word or two to the different guests, went up to his wife and tapped her gently on the cheek.

"You are making me a piece of furniture, I see, madame," he said; "that is well done of you!"

"Oh! that would take too long," rejoined Fanny, looking up at her husband as she would have looked at the merest acquaintance; "it's a stool, that's all."

"Mon Dieu! what are you doing with that newspaper spread out before you?"

"I am posting myself as to the prices of stocks, my dear."

"That's a most entertaining occupation for a woman."

As he spoke, Auguste took the paper, crumpled it in his hands, and tossed it into a corner of the salon; Fanny watched him while he did it, then glanced at her sister, and said under her breath:

"You see, he doesn't want me to look at the market reports. But I shall look at some other paper--that's all."

"Does your arm still pain you, brother?" Adolphine asked Monleard, having observed his thoughtful expression.

"No, little sister, no. I thank you for being good enough to take some interest in it. There are people who take more interest in the rise and fall of stocks than in the wound I received; and yet----"

He paused, as if he were afraid of saying too much; but Adolphine had fully grasped the significance of his words, and she whispered to her sister:

"Your husband is vexed because you didn't ask him about his wound."

"Let me alone, pray! Haven't I seen my husband to-day? I fancy that the condition of his arm hasn't changed in a few hours."

"No matter; it isn't nice of you not to show more interest; for, after all, it was on your account that that duel took place."

"Oh! I beg you, Adolphine, don't talk to me like that; you set my nerves on edge! For several days, my husband has been in a very disagreeable mood; as I cannot be the cause of it, I don't worry about it in the least; indeed, I even pretend not to notice it."

"If I were in your place, I would ask him the cause of it."

"Oh! I should be very sorry if I did! My gentleman is capricious, it seems; so much the worse for him!"

"If I am not mistaken, you promised to sing for us, mademoiselle," said Monsieur de la Beriniere, who had once more escaped from Madame de Mirallon and hastened to Adolphine's side.

"Mon Dieu! monsieur, if it will give you any pleasure, I will gladly sing; but it will disturb the whist."

"Sing away!" said Monsieur Gerbault; "we will stuff our ears."

"Thanks, papa!"

"There's a father who doesn't say what he thinks, I am sure."

While Adolphine took her place at the piano, young Anatole said to Monleard:

"Ith it true that Morithel hath run away?"

"Why, yes!"

"The devil! And he'th carried off thix hundred thouthand francth, they thay."

"Something like that."

"You had thome buthineth relathionth with him; haven't you lotht anything by him?"

"No--a trifle--some thirty thousand francs or so."

"A trifle like that would embarrath me thadly! To be thure, I'm not a capitalitht like you."

Auguste bit his lips and took a seat by the piano. Adolphine sang a lovely romanza by Nadaud. Her voice was sweet and well modulated; in a word, it was a sympathetic voice, and, furthermore, its possessor had an agreeable habit of pronouncing distinctly the words she sang; which increased twofold the pleasure of those who listened to her.

Auguste's face lighted up a little. Young Anatole ceased to gaze at his hands; the count seemed fascinated, and did not once remove his eyes from the singer. At last, Madame de Mirallon exclaimed:

"It's your play, Monsieur Batonnin; do, for heaven's sake, attend to the game!"

"A thousand pardons, madame; I was listening to the singing."

"But we are not singing, monsieur!"

"Thank God!" muttered Monsieur Clairval.

"What's that! Why did you say: 'Thank God!' Monsieur Clairval?"

"Because, if we were all singing, madame, we should not have the pleasure of hearing mademoiselle."

"You see that I am disturbing the game," said Adolphine.

"No, no; pray go on, mademoiselle! As if people could play whist for two minutes without a dispute! You are the pretext at this moment, that's all."

Adolphine continued to sing. The game of whist came to an end, and Madame de Mirallon lost again. She left the table in a pet, exclaiming:

"I certainly will give up playing whist!"

"Do you know my favorite game?" said Monsieur Gerbault; "it's bezique."

"Fie, fie! a messroom game!"

"I don't know anything about that; but piquet is a messroom game, too, which doesn't prevent its being a very fine game. I've heard people say of lansquenet: 'It's a footman's game!' the same thing has been said of ecarte--but that doesn't prevent those games from being played in the salons. For my part, I believe in playing the game that amuses us, without disturbing ourselves about its origin."

"I am wild over bezique, too," cried Monsieur de la Beriniere; "and, if you will allow me, Monsieur Gerbault, I shall take great pleasure in playing a game with you."

"Whenever you choose, monsieur le comte, you will be welcome."

"That's a game I am very fond of, too," said Monsieur Batonnin.

"I am not thure whether I know it, but I think not."

"Very well, messieurs," said Fanny; "the next time, we'll have a bezique table for those who like it.--How is it with you, Auguste; do you play it?"

"I? What? what game is that?" replied Monleard, who had not listened to the conversation.

"Bezique."

"No. Oh! yes, I played it yesterday."

"My son-in-law is distraught this evening."

They talked a few moments more, then all the guests took leave of the young husband and wife. But, as she went away, Adolphine could not resist the desire to say to her sister, in an undertone:

"Do be more affectionate with your husband. He is unhappy, I assure you."

"And I assure you," rejoined Fanny, "that that's none of my affair; as if a woman must be forever worrying about her husband's looks! That would not be a very entertaining occupation!"

XXI

A MAIDEN'S REVERIES

More than a fortnight had elapsed since the Monleard's whist party, at which Adolphine had sung several romanzas. But her sweet voice had made a deep impression upon the Comte de la Beriniere, also upon young Anatole de Raincy; it had even caused a quickening of the heart-beats of Monsieur Batonnin, the gentleman who played whist so poorly, but who was said to have a much clearer comprehension of business, which, indeed, was his profession, for he held himself out as a business agent.