Part 15

Monin, terrified by that threat, retreated behind the chair and took three pinches in rapid succession. But Domingo announced again that dinner was served, and they all repaired to the dining-room. Dalville offered his hand to the hostess, a provincial dandy escorted the gorgeous Athalie, the spectacled gentleman went to the three sisters, saying that he would take charge of the Graces, La Thomassinière went out alone, considering doubtless that his own presence was honor enough, Monin walked at a snail's pace with an old dowager, and Madame Monin alone was left in the salon with Monsieur Bisbis--the little man who shifted from one leg to the other;--he skipped forward to the stout lady in the turban, offered her his right hand, then the left, then the right again, until Madame Monin, out of patience, seized her escort about the waist, as if she were going to dance a waltz, and pulled him into the dining-room.

Dalville occupied one of the places of honor beside the hostess, and on his other side was the young lady who talked so easily. Athalie was between the provincial beau and the gentleman with spectacles; her husband was between an old lady and one of the three sisters. Madame Monin had her escort for her neighbor, and Monsieur Monin found himself seated beside the silly school-girl, who dared not raise her eyes, and to whom he had twice offered snuff when the soup was served.

The dinner was a magnificent affair: three courses, four entrées to each. Monin had no time to visit his snuff-box; he had not gone beyond the anchovies, when the first course disappeared. La Thomassinière found an opportunity to say that the madeira was poor, that the olives were too salt, that the butter was not so good as that made on his country place at Fleury, and that two servants were not enough to serve twenty people. To be sure, he was often obliged to ask twice for a dish, because Domingo never came quickly enough, and Baptiste got confused and lost his head running around the table.

During the second course Baptiste dropped a dish of macaroni on Madame Monin, and Domingo broke a pile of plates because he tried to run. Madame Monin shrieked because her dress of Naples silk was spotted, and Madame Destival tried to pacify her. Monsieur Destival scolded his servants, and Monin dared not fill his glass again because Bichette was in a rage.

Although he drank freely of all the wines, La Thomassinière kept repeating that he had much better ones in his cellar. Destival made wry faces at his wife, who was bright enough to pretend to pay no attention to the parvenu's absurd talk. Athalie seemed to be bored by the insipid remarks of her neighbors; Madame Monin was apparently attempting the conquest of Monsieur Bisbis, who fidgeted on his chair, uncertain how to eat the charlotte russe, which he finally decided to attack with his fork. Monin longingly eyed the Roman punch, which he feared would never reach him, and he said twice to Baptiste:

"I say--er--servant, give me some of that dish they're passing over there."

But Baptiste, still in ill humor, walked away, muttering between his teeth:

"I've got something else to do. How all these people eat! There won't be anything left for us!"

Monin, his appeal being disregarded by Baptiste, decided to apply to Domingo, to whom he gave his plate, saying:

"Negro, just ask for a little of that shiny stuff for--for a person."

Domingo presented the plate to Monsieur Destival, who was serving the Roman punch.

"A little shiny stuff," he said, "for little man with big nose."

Everybody laughed, Madame Monin alone taking it very ill that the negro should presume so to designate her husband; and she vented her wrath on a third dish of cream, saying to Monsieur Bisbis:

"I'd rather be served by four chimney-sweeps than a negro."

After the coffee and the liqueurs, they left the table in about as hilarious a mood as when they sat down; that is to say, everyone was bored, as is usually the case at a formal dinner. But the people invited for the evening were already coming in crowds; and Destival was enchanted, because there was hardly room to move, and everyone exclaimed:

"Mon Dieu! what a crowd! how hot it is here!"

The card tables were set out, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière took his seat at an écarté table, tossing his purse on the table, saying: "I play for nothing but gold."

But the young people--that is to say, the young ladies and some few men who were sensible enough to prefer their conversation to a game of cards--took refuge in Madame Destival's bedroom. Athalie also went thither, as did Dalville and other young men. They decided that cards should be barred out, and, in order to do something, someone proposed playing games.

The suggestion was accepted, and they seated themselves in a circle. Madame Monin eagerly joined them and wanted to begin with "In my hole, in the common hole, and in my neighbor's hole!" which she described to the others by pointing her forefinger, with much dexterity, to the right and left and centre of the assemblage; but, despite the neat way in which Madame Monin put her finger in her neighbor's hole, the game was voted down, in favor of crambo, which requires the imposing of forfeits; although Madame Monin declared that it was too easy, and that her head was full of rhymes. But she ran short on the second round, because the others had said everything that she knew; so she looked at Monsieur Bisbis, and said:

"Give me one."

"I'm trying to think of one for myself," whispered Monsieur Bisbis.

They soon tired of crambo, and a young lady having proposed blind-man's-buff seated, the gentlemen voted unanimously in favor of that game. The little school-girl began; she recognized the third person in whose lap she sat--her young cousin, who had come after dinner. After him came the turn of the tall man with spectacles, who seated himself cautiously on the ladies' laps, saying:

"Hum! hum! I'll bet I can guess. Hum! hum! I know who it is. Parbleu! if I could use my hands it would be too easy."

However, he sat down upon the whole party without guessing; luckily Madame Monin remained and she was readily recognizable. Enchanted to have been caught, Madame Monin allowed herself to be bandaged, and hurled herself recklessly at the circle. At the first onslaught her weight crushed a young dandy, who cried:

"Name me, madame, name me, I beg you!"

"One moment, monsieur; you're in a terrible hurry," said Madame Monin, trying to find something by which to recognize him.

"Get off me, madame, I can't stand it any longer!" cried the young man, turning purple.

"It seems to me, monsieur, that you're not so much to be pitied, having me on your knees."

"I am suffocating, madame."

The buxom dame persisted; but as everybody dreaded to receive her on his knees, it was proposed to draw forfeits at once, despite the remonstrances of Madame Monin, who was determined to sit on Monsieur Bisbis's lap, although he swore that he had nothing to identify him.

One of the three sisters had the forfeits wrapped in the skirt of her dress. A young officer put in his hand to draw, and spent a very long time mixing them up, so that there should be no cheating. Athalie directed operations. She told the young officer to draw; but he evidently had some difficulty in getting hold, for he was a long time deciding to remove his hand from its hiding-place in the folds of the young lady's dress. At last the forfeit was brought forth; it belonged to the school-girl, and she was told to tell somebody something in confidence. She hesitated, uncertain to whom she should turn, or rather because she was afraid to select her little cousin, at whom she glanced furtively, with a blush. But her mamma was there, so she chose Monsieur Monin for her confidant.

Monin, who had slipped behind his wife's chair, was amazed when the girl said to him:

"Will you come with me, monsieur?"

The ex-druggist did not know what to do, so he leaned over his better half and whispered:

"Shall I go with her, Bichette?"

"Greatly to be pitied, aren't you, for being chosen to receive a young lady's confidence!" rejoined Madame Monin, smiling at Monsieur Bisbis.

Whereupon Monin allowed the girl to take his hand and lead him to a corner of the salon, where she whispered in his ear:

"It's been a very fine day, monsieur."

Monin stared at the young lady with a dazed expression.

"What must I answer?" said he.

"Nothing," was the reply.

And the girl returned to her place, while Monin found his way back to his wife, saying to the people about him:

"It's a pretty game! I didn't know that I knew how to play it."

The next forfeit was Athalie's. She was condemned to _sulk_, and all the men sulked with her; and while sulking, Dalville obtained an assignation. A very pretty thing, these innocent games! Well-brought-up young ladies are forbidden to waltz, but they are permitted to give or receive confidences, to hide with a young man, or to wait in a little dark closet until the concierge of the convent is relieved; and there are always kisses to be given and received in corners, secretly, behind curtains. If I ever have a daughter, I shall allow her to waltz in my presence, but forbid her to play _innocent_ games.

The spectacled man was condemned to pay a compliment without using the letter _a_. After scratching his forehead, he stepped into the middle of the circle and said with a satisfied air: "_La femme est le chef-d'oeuvre du monde_."

The next forfeit was Madame Monin's, who was told to take a trip to Cythera. She sprang to her feet and offered her hand to Monsieur Bisbis, saying:

"Come and travel with me."

The stout man submitted to be led into a small study, the door of which Madame Monin closed behind them, and Monsieur Monin, observing the manoeuvre, said to one of his neighbors:

"What are they going to do in there?"

"They're in Cythera."

"Oh, yes! I see what it is--another confidence; she's going to tell him that it's a fine day to-day. I know the game now."

After remaining some time, Bichette and her companion returned from Cythera; and some ladies noticed that the turban was somewhat out of place, and that Monsieur Bisbis did not know which leg to stand on--all of which did not prevent Monin from going to meet his wife and asking:

"Is it nice, Bichette?"

"What, monsieur?"

"At Cythera."

"Very nice, monsieur."

This reply was accompanied by a wanton glance at Monsieur Bisbis, who scratched his nose longer than usual, while Monin approached him with his snuff-box, saying:

"Do you take it too?"

The games were interrupted by the punch, which Domingo passed around among the guests. He passed the salver to the ladies, who made a great to-do about taking a glass of punch, which they declared was too strong, although some of them partook a second time. The men crowded about Domingo and seized the punch on the wing. Monin ran after the platter, which had passed him several times; but he had not been able to capture a glass. At last, after following Domingo throughout his winding course among the guests, Monin succeeded in stopping him as he was returning to the dining-room.

"One minute, negro!" he said, putting out his hand toward the salver. Domingo halted, muttering:

"You want drink again?"

"What's that? again!" cried Monin; "my word! he's a good one, he is! I haven't had a taste, and I'm very fond of punch."

As he spoke Monin glanced at the salver: all the glasses were empty. The poor man was thunderstruck.

"Me come again right away.--More punch, all hot," said Domingo, as he left the room; and Monin, for consolation, drew his snuff-box, and returned to the games, saying to himself:

"I must try to catch him sooner than I did this time."

Madame Monin, whom the trip to Cythera had made extremely warm, said to her husband when he returned to her side:

"Go get me another glass of punch, Monsieur Monin; the one I had wasn't half full; I am sure that it's done on purpose so that they can pass it round oftener without making any more."

"The negro has no more, Bichette; but he told me he'd come right back with some hot punch. So I----"

"All right, that will do. Go away now; I believe this gentleman is coming to ask me to make the _pont d'amour_."

But Madame Monin's hope was disappointed; it was not to her that the young officer condemned to make the _pont d'amour_ addressed himself but to Athalie, who laughingly assisted him to perform his penance; and Dalville observed with some vexation that the petite-maîtresse made the _pont d'amour_ with others as readily as with him. For consolation he gave a kiss _à la capucine_ to a young lady whose husband emulated the Knight of the Rueful Countenance; and the school-girl received her youthful cousin's confidence while her mamma was arranging for another forfeit; and the pretty creature who held them in her dress pouted because the young officer had ceased to draw them; and the spectacled gentleman had been trying for an hour to draw another forfeit; while for most of those present the game was simply a pretext to enable everybody to remain beside the person to whom he or she was most attracted. That is something which the papas and mammas do not always see, and about which husbands give themselves little concern; but it is perfectly apparent to the keen observer, who seeks in a salon something besides an écarté table, or a commonplace conversation with people whom he has never met before and whom he has no desire to meet again.

A fresh supply of punch diverted attention from the private conversations, and from the games, which were beginning to flag. Domingo was surrounded again and Monin started on the negro's trail; but the young men who laughingly besieged the salver constantly put aside the ex-druggist, who did not reach Domingo's side until the glasses were once more empty.

Sorely vexed, Monin returned to his wife, who had just finished her third glass and handed it to her husband to take away.

"It's rather good, isn't it, monsieur?" she said.

"I don't know whether it's good or not," growled Monin angrily; "I haven't succeeded yet in getting a taste of it."

"Because you're not clever and don't know how to go about it. You should have seen Monsieur Bisbis, how he pounced on the salver! I thought for a minute that he was going to take all the glasses. But you're so slow!"

"I'll tell you, Bichette--it's that negro----"

"Go away from here, monsieur. They're going to play _la mer agitée_ and I must be in it."

"What is _agitée_, Bichette?"

Seeing that his wife was paying no attention to him, it occurred to Monsieur Monin to lie in ambush at the door of the salon; in that way he hoped to be the first to seize the negro as he passed, and so make sure of some punch. Highly pleased with his scheme, Monin took his stand like a sentinel at the entrance to the salon, stuffing his nose with snuff in order to be more patient. But he waited more than half an hour and Domingo did not appear. Monin ventured to glance into the dining-room. He smelt the punch; that sweet-smelling vapor indicated that the mixture was not all consumed. He crept into the reception room, and, guided by the odor, reached a small door, which stood ajar, and discovered Domingo drinking punch, not from a small glass, but from a large porcelain pitcher. Monin was standing, speechless with surprise, in his corner, when Baptiste appeared from the servants' quarters with a plate full of biscuits. He pushed the negro aside, tossed off several glasses in quick succession, then dipped his biscuits in the punch and ate them hurriedly, while Domingo, by way of compensation, stuffed macaroons and nutcakes into his jacket pockets.

Monin was wondering whether he should go away, or should ask the servants' leave to take something, when Monsieur Destival, who had been calling vainly for Domingo and Baptiste in the salon, appeared on the scene and surprised them.

"Ah! you knaves! you scoundrels! I have caught you at it!" he cried, rushing at his servants. Domingo ran from the room, but Baptiste stood his ground, and retorted, undismayed:

"Don't yell so loud for a little punch! Don't make such a row! I was very glad to have a drop of it myself; I've worked hard enough to-day."

"What does this mean, villain? You presume to argue! You wretch! eating my biscuit too! rascal! thief!"

"Thief!" retorted Baptiste, glaring at Monsieur Destival with a furious expression; "don't you dare to insult me--that wouldn't be good for you! I must be mighty good-natured to stay in your old shanty, where the servants don't get anything to eat or drink! And what about my wages for two years, that I can't get hold of a sou of! to say nothing of the money I've advanced."

"All right, Baptiste, hush!" said Monsieur Destival in a lower tone; "that's enough, I won't say any more."

"But I tell you that I'm tired of it," rejoined Baptiste, shouting louder than ever. "Oh, yes! you hire a black man and you don't pay me any more'n you do the baker and butcher and fruit woman and grocer, whose abuse I have to listen to every morning! Well! I want my money, and if you don't like it, I don't care a hang; with all the airs you put on, I know what's what."

"Hush, for heaven's sake, Baptiste! What's the meaning of all this foolish talk? Come, my boy, eat another biscuit, and then go to bed."

Baptiste's shouting had attracted several persons from the salon.

"What is it? what's the matter?" they asked one another; and Destival made haste to reply:

"It's nothing; my valet is drunk and doesn't know what he's saying."

"No, I ain't drunk either," cried Baptiste, walking toward the door; "pay me my wages instead of calling me 'thief.'"

Destival hastily closed the door on Baptiste's heels and locked it.

"The poor fellow," he said, "talks like a fool when he's drunk; but I overlook it, because he's very much attached to me."

The people who had come thither pretended to believe what Monsieur Destival said, because it would have been discourteous to do otherwise; but they exchanged stealthy glances, laughed and whispered together, and made comments under their breath, while Baptiste, unable to return to the room, beat a devil's tattoo on the door, shouting in a hoarse voice:

"My wages! pay me and discharge me; that's just what I'd like! I get tired of hearing the row your creditors make every day."

Luckily the closed door muffled Baptiste's voice to some extent; and, in order that he might be heard even less distinctly, the business agent shouted louder than he:

"All right, Baptiste, all right! You'll be sorry for this, but I forgive you; I know that you're faithful, and that's enough for me."

Meanwhile Monin had seen his last hope fade away; for it was not to be presumed that the servants would bring more punch to the salon; so he returned to his wife. The guests were discussing the scene in the reception-room, even in the midst of their innocent games; and Madame Monin exclaimed:

"Mon Dieu! if I hadn't been presenting my _little box of amourettes_ at that moment, I shouldn't have lost a word of what that Baptiste said. But you were there, Monsieur Monin, and heard everything. What happened?"

"I was watching for the negro to get some punch, Bichette, and it was he who drank it."

"Who's he?"

"The black."

"Who's the black?"

"The servant in a red jacket."

"Well?"

"Well, then he took macaroons--No, I believe it was the other one who ate biscuits first--I am not perfectly sure."

"Oh! you tell a story wretchedly, Monsieur Monin! Instead of listening to what was said, you were engrossed by biscuit and macaroons. For shame! you are such a glutton! You go into company only to drink and eat."

"But, Bichette, when I tell you that I didn't----"

"Bah! hold your tongue and find my shawl; everyone's going, you see."

In truth, the time for departure had arrived, and the mammas had already donned their bonnets and shawls. The younger women took more time to find their wraps, and some obliging young man was always at hand to offer to help a pretty girl to find what she wanted. They still had something to say to one another before separating, and they chose to take advantage of the confusion that prevailed in the salon at that moment.

Dalville had heard nothing of the scene in the reception room, being occupied in kissing _what was beneath the candlestick_, which he had taken pains to place over the head of a very attractive young woman; so that he gave little thought to what was happening elsewhere. And Madame de la Thomassinière, intent only upon making new victims, had not listened to the unkind remarks concerning the host and hostess that were flying about in all directions.

Soon the salon was nearly empty. The ladies took their leave and Auguste did likewise, well pleased that he had passed the evening without playing écarté, and to have discovered that one can enjoy oneself without losing money. When he reached home he went upstairs and rang, but no one opened the door. As Bertrand usually sat up for his master, little Tony seldom carried a key. Having rung again with no better success, Auguste reflected that Bertrand, whom he had told to go out and enjoy himself, might very well not have returned; so he sent Tony to inquire of the concierge and he remained on the landing, thinking that a few days earlier he would readily have found a place to pass the night without leaving the house.

His neighbor, who had probably heard him come upstairs and ring, donned a peignoir and left her room, candle in hand. She went down one flight and saw her neighbor calmly pacing the floor of the landing. She descended a few more stairs, coughed slightly, and decided at last to go down to him. A pretty woman is very seductive in a peignoir, with her hair loosely secured by a silk handkerchief, from beneath which a few stray locks escape and fall upon a white breast, which the peignoir never conceals altogether, because there are always one or two ill-placed pins, which betray the secrets of beauty, or, perhaps, act as its confederates.

"Can't you get in, Monsieur Dalville?" asked Madame Saint-Edmond, in the soft voice which she could assume so readily when she was not left behind with a bill to pay.

Auguste bowed low to his neighbor and replied coldly:

"As you see, madame."

"Monsieur Bertrand must have forgotten himself somewhere. Perhaps something has happened to him."

"I trust not."

"That would be a great pity! such a fine fellow, and so fond of you!"

Léonie heaved a profound sigh and said nothing more. Auguste leaned over the rail to see if Tony were coming up. Léonie, finding that Auguste said nothing more, decided to reopen the conversation.

"Perhaps you would like to sit in my room, monsieur, until you can get in? I should think that you would be more comfortable than on this landing."

"I thank you, madame, but I do not wish to disturb you or to interfere with your sleep."

"It won't disturb me, monsieur. As for my sleep, for several days I haven't slept at all."

"Is it because you have lost your poodle again, madame?"

"How unkind! How you make fun of my grief!"

Léonie heaved a more profound sigh than before, and as she had no handkerchief, she lifted a corner of her peignoir and put it to her eyes. That movement discovered some very seductive things; but when one is weeping, one cannot think of everything, and when one's eyes are covered, one cannot see what one has disclosed.

Auguste, distrusting his weakness, continued to lean over the rail, and did not take his eyes from the concierge's door.

"Well, Tony, are you coming back to-night?" he cried.

Léonie walked to where he stood and said in a touching voice:

"Mon Dieu! what on earth have I done to you, monsieur?"

"What have you done to me, madame? Why, it seems to me that you know quite as well as I do."

"Oh! monsieur, how can an intelligent man trust appearances?"