Part 4

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes, it's a great opportunity; the price is nothing at all."

"Is it insured?"

"I don't know; we will talk about all those things later; go out and take a turn in the garden. I am going to find out if they have any idea of giving us some luncheon."

Monin left the room; as Monsieur Destival turned to do likewise he confronted his wife, who exclaimed:

"What, monsieur! you have asked Monsieur Monin to call on us in Paris?"

"To be sure, madame."

"It's well enough in the country, because he's a neighbor. But in town! A man who can't say anything or do anything, and who knows no game but loo!"

"He is rich, madame."

"What if he is? that doesn't prevent his being as stupid as an owl."

"He won't be the first stupid person who has been to my house, madame. When one receives a great deal of company, it can't be otherwise. And besides, with your men of intellect, your authors and your poets, there's not a sou to be made."

"If you're so fond of money, monsieur, why do you invite so many people to your country house? It is ruinously extravagant, monsieur."

"Never fear, madame; I invite none but those who may be useful to me. Oh! I am very shrewd, I look a long way ahead. La Thomassinière is a valuable acquaintance, and I am very desirous to become intimate with him. I know that he often makes himself very ridiculous, that he tries to play the great man, and that the rôle isn't suited to him; that he occasionally makes blunders in speaking that smell horribly of his origin; that he is tiresome beyond words with his carriage, his estates, his property and his servants, whom he is forever throwing in one's face; but for all that, he's a man for whom I have a peculiar esteem and regard, because, as I told you just now, madame, I look a long way ahead.--But how about luncheon?"

"Speak to Baptiste, monsieur; I have given my orders to Julie."

Madame Destival went into the garden, where the petite-maîtresse was strolling about, gathering a bouquet.

"I am picking your flowers, you see," she said.

"You are doing just right, my dear love; pray take all that you please."

"Your garden is lovely."

"Oh! it isn't very extensive; but there is plenty of shade, and that's what I like."

"So do I. I have had a forest planted on our estate at Fleury. It will be delicious, I assure you."

"But before it grows----"

"Oh! we have set out nothing but large trees. I will send you an invitation for next month. I am waiting for the painting and decorating I am having done to be finished, before going there for a month. But I shall take plenty of guests; for I don't like the country except with a lot of people about."

"For my part, I am rather fond of solitude."

"Mon Dieu! I should die if I were alone a single day!"

"So you don't like reading?"

"Yes, I do, for a moment or two, in bed; but not long at a time; it tires me."

"And music?"

"I play and sing only when someone is listening to me."

"Drawing?"

"Oh! that was all right at boarding-school! I mean to have a little theatre on my estate, and we will have theatricals there; that's great fun. I used to act often at boarding-school. I was particularly fond of the parts in which I changed dresses."

"What a child you are!"

"What would you have? one must pass the time somehow. If I had nothing but my husband to amuse me, great heaven! where should we be? A man who thinks of nothing but figures and exchange and heaven knows what. These business men are very disagreeable."

The ladies, having turned into another path, found themselves in the neighborhood of Monsieur Monin, who had stopped and seemed to be in a sort of trance before a plum tree laden with very large fruit. At sight of the ladies he took off his hat and muttered: "How's your--" But he did not finish the sentence, because he remembered that he had already paid his respects to them in the salon; so he turned and pointed to the tree, saying: "That tree bears very fine fruit."

"Why, my dear, you don't mean that you have fruit trees in your garden?" cried the petite-maîtresse; "why, that's the worst possible form; you must take them all away and set out in their place ebony-trees, acacias, and sycamores."

"Oh! our garden makes no pretensions," rejoined Madame Destival, biting her lips with anger; "it isn't a park such as you have on your place, and Monsieur Destival is very fond of fruit."

"He is quite right," said Monin, who had walked nearer to the plum tree when Madame de la Thomassinière spoke of taking it up. "Fruit is the body's friend when it's good and ripe. But I was just going to say----"

"And monsieur's plums!" continued the younger woman. "Dear, dear! they are very vulgar; they should be left for the servants."

"Oh! when Monsieur Destival has made a fortune, then we will have a separate orchard; but meanwhile we are simple enough to be content with a small country place. What would you have? We were not born in a palace--in the lap of grandeur."

Madame Destival uttered these last words with malicious emphasis; but Madame de la Thomassinière seemed to pay no heed to them; as hare-brained as she was inconsequent, she said offensive things unintentionally; and if she talked constantly of her dresses, her diamonds and her estate, it was less from vanity than as a matter of habit, whereas the wish to make a show of his wealth was the motive behind every act of her husband.

"Luncheon is waiting, mesdames," said Monsieur Destival, hastening forward gallantly to offer his arm to the petite-maîtresse; "come; it is late, and you must be hungry. Faith, if Dalville comes, he will have to eat alone, that's all there is about it."

The master of the house walked away with the young woman. Monsieur Monin had taken off his hat and was about to offer Madame Destival his arm; but she, divining his purpose, vanished by another path, and the little man, having lost sight of her, decided to betake himself alone to the dining-room; but first he cast a last tender glance at the plum tree.

They were seated at the table, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière was still in the study.

"Tell him that we are going to have luncheon," said Monsieur Destival, "and that we're only waiting for him."

Baptiste went up to the study and called through the door:

"Luncheon is served, monsieur."

"Very well, very well, I will come down," replied La Thomassinière, continuing to roll little balls of paper; "I have only one more note to write."

The valet withdrew and reported the answer that was made to him.

"What a terrible man he is with his notes!" said Madame Destival; "doesn't he have a moment to himself, even in the country?"

"My husband?" replied the petite-maîtresse; "why, my dear love, he's a most insufferable creature with his endless writing! He is never ready at meal-time; and even when we have twenty persons to dinner, which happens quite often, I have to send for him three or four times."

After making balls of paper for another five minutes, Monsieur de la Thomassinière concluded at last to go down to the dining-room.

"I beg pardon, here I am! It wasn't my fault," he said as he took his seat; "you shouldn't have waited for me. You see, I happened to think about a certain speculation I am interested in.--Give me the wing of a chicken and a glass of claret; that is all I take in the morning.--Well, Athalie, have you devastated madame's flower garden?"

Athalie, who ate quite heartily for a petite-maîtresse, answered with a laugh:

"I have been doing what I chose, monsieur; you know perfectly well that it doesn't concern you."

"That is true, madame, that is perfectly true. I supply the money, I pay the bills. Twelve hundred francs to a milliner seems a trifle expensive. But madame must have the best there is."

"If you lose your temper, monsieur, the next bill will be twice as large."

"You know well enough, madame, that when it's a question of giving you money, I never have to be asked twice. When one is rich, that's perfectly natural; we must help the tradesmen to make money; isn't that so, Destival?"

"To be sure," replied his host, "I have the same feeling.--Well, what do you think of my claret? You don't say anything about it."

"It is very fair; but I have some better than this, oh! much better! I will give you some when you come to my house, and you'll see."

"And this cream--do you like it, madame?"

"Very much," replied the petite-maîtresse. But Monsieur de la Thomassinière helped himself to three spoonfuls, saying:

"Let's taste the cream." Then he made a slight grimace and added: "Oh! my estate is the place for fine dairy products! This can't be compared with it; it's an entirely different thing! And our fowls! ah! they are delicious. To be sure, they are fed with such care! Now you people think that you are eating something good when you eat a chicken like this. Well, let me tell you that if you should see my poultry yard at Fleury, you would look on this as rubbish."

"It is very fortunate then that we know nothing about it," retorted Madame Destival, with a meaning glance at her husband. He, to change the subject of that pleasant conversation, turned to Monin, who had not said a word since he had been at the table, being engrossed by the second joint of a chicken, which he seasoned now and then with snuff, glancing occasionally with the eye of a connoisseur at a magnificent pie that stood in front of him, to which he seemed to be saying: "How's your health?"

"Your appetite seems to be in good condition, neighbor?" said Destival.

"Yes, yes, it's the weather that does it. Do you take snuff?"

And Monin offered his box to Destival, then to La Thomassinière, who, after taking a tiny pinch, took from his pocket a gold snuff-box at which he gazed for some time with a complacent expression.

"This is Virginia," he said, "the very best snuff there is; it's very expensive, but I don't care for any other kind. Try it, monsieur."

Monin, who never declined a pinch of snuff, was about to partake of the Virginia, when they heard the wheels of a carriage entering the courtyard, and Julie hurried into the dining-room, saying:

"Here's Monsieur Dalville; his cabriolet has just come in."

Madame Destival smiled with satisfaction, and the petite-maîtresse hastily ordered her plate to be changed, so that the débris of her repast might not be seen in front of her. Monsieur Destival ran out to receive his dear friend, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière thought: "This Dalville must be a millionaire, to have his arrival make such a sensation."

As for Monin, with his pinch of Virginia in one hand and his fork in the other, confused by the bustle caused by Dalville's arrival, he put a dainty piece of ham to his nose and the superfine snuff in his mouth. He discovered his mistake, however, and put each article in its proper place.

V

THE DRILL, THE SWING, THE STORM, AND THE MUSIC

Destival, having gone out to greet Dalville, looked about for him in vain; he saw nobody near the cabriolet save little Tony and Bertrand, the latter of whom gave him a military salute.

"Well! where is he? which way did he go in?" inquired Destival. Bertrand passed his tongue over his lips and scratched his ear, seeking a suitable reply; at last he said in a firm voice:

"Monsieur Dalville will be here as soon as I am."

"But you seem to have got here before him; did he leave you on the way?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Does he know anyone in the neighborhood?"

"It would seem so, monsieur."

"At all events, he is really coming; that's the main point."

Destival ran back to inform the ladies that his friend Dalville would soon be there; that he had stopped to see a friend, but that he could not be long.

"Why, I didn't know that he knew anyone in this vicinity," said Madame Destival in surprise.

"Mon Dieu! this gentleman keeps us on the anxious seat a long while," said the vivacious Athalie, leaving the table; while La Thomassinière, annoyed that a thought should be given to anybody but himself, paced the floor a few moments, then stamped violently, and put his hand to his forehead.

"Bless my soul!" he cried, "I had almost forgotten. What time is it? Not one yet? Is there a post office[A] anywhere near?"

[A] French _poste_; when used alone the meaning is ambiguous and depends on the context. Hence the misunderstanding.

"Do you mean a donkey post?" asked Monin.

"No, for letters, of course!"

"Oh, yes! on the second street. By the way, I believe--I won't say for sure, but I'll tell you----"

"I'll go there at once; I shall be in time."

And Monsieur de la Thomassinière rushed from the room as if he would overturn everybody, paying no heed to Destival, who shouted after him:

"Stay here; I'll send it for you. Besides, your own servants are here."

The speculator darted out across the fields, and having reached a dense thicket, lay down on the grass and went to sleep, saying to himself:

"A man like me must never have a moment to himself."

The ladies returned to the salon. Monsieur Destival went down to Bertrand, and Monin, seeing that everybody had left the table, concluded to do likewise and followed his host.

As soon as Bertrand had taken some refreshment, Monsieur Destival went to him and begged him to give him a lesson in drilling and giving orders. The ex-corporal was very willing to do anything that recalled glorious memories. He repaired with Monsieur Destival to the terrace in the garden, where the latter had his rifle brought to him, and a foil which he used as a sword, and stood as straight as a ramrod as he carried out Bertrand's orders. Monin, who had followed them, thought that it was courteous to do as his host did; he took a spade in lieu of a musket, and, standing behind his neighbor, followed him through "right shoulder," "left shoulder," "present arms," etc., pausing only to use his snuff-box.

For more than an hour the gentlemen had been on the terrace with Bertrand, who would gladly have passed the day in such a pleasant occupation. Monsieur Destival, ambitious to outshine the rural constables, began to carry himself like a Prussian grenadier; and Monin, perspiring profusely in his efforts to do as well as his host, did not notice that, while taking aim, presenting arms and grounding arms with his sword, he had pushed back his cap and wig, thereby giving himself a most swaggering appearance.

The drill was interrupted by roars of laughter from the effervescent Athalie, who appeared on the scene with Madame Destival.

Monsieur Monin paused in the act of presenting arms. It was high time; a moment more and the wig would have fallen back and have exhibited the ex-druggist as the Child-Jesus. As for Monsieur Destival, he turned toward the ladies, with a martial air, weapon in hand, and said:

"Well, what do you think of my set-up?"

"Superb! But I prefer monsieur here with his spade; he is more amusing."

"What, neighbor, are you taking a lesson in the manual?"

"Yes," replied Monin, wiping his brow and pulling his wig forward; "I followed you at a distance, and I'll tell you----"

"But what can have become of Monsieur Dalville?" said Madame Destival, paying no attention to Monin; "he left you on the road, he said that he would be here as soon as you, and you have been here two hours. At whose house did you leave him, Bertrand?"

"At whose house, madame? I didn't say that I left him at anyone's house."

"But you must have seen him go into a house, didn't you? Of course you didn't leave him on the highroad?"

"Excuse me, madame, but that's just what I did: I left my lieutenant in the middle of the road, about half a league from here."

"You do not tell the whole story, Bertrand: Monsieur Auguste wasn't alone on the road, I fancy."

"I didn't see whether anybody was coming, madame."

"Oh! there must have been some peasant girl there, some rustic beauty, who captivated Monsieur Dalville!"

"What do you mean, my dear? Does he consort with that kind?" inquired the petite-maîtresse disdainfully.

"He consorts with all kinds, my dear. Bless my soul, a scullery maid, if she has a little turned-up nose, a----"

"Oh dear! oh dear! this goes far to destroy the good opinion I had formed of this gentleman."

"I tell you," said Madame Destival in a lower tone, drawing nearer to her friend, "he's a perfect libertine! If it weren't for my husband, I should never receive him. He's a man whose acquaintance is likely to endanger a woman's reputation. But Monsieur Destival is daft over him. He absolutely insists on entertaining him, and is forever inviting him here. I don't like quarrels, and I let my husband do what he chooses."

"Well, I am not so obliging; I do only what I like, and I receive only those people who suit me. Ah! if Monsieur de la Thomassinière should try to thwart me, I should instantly become subject to hysterics."

The ladies were about to return to the garden and Bertrand to continue his lesson in drilling, when they heard loud laughter in the courtyard, and in a moment Dalville made his appearance.

"Ah! good-day, my dear friend," said Monsieur Destival, going to meet Auguste, rifle in hand; "we had about given you up. Shoulder arms, eh? Isn't this about right?"

"I see that Bertrand will make something of you."

"Here is my wife, who has been in a temper because you didn't come."

"Mon Dieu! how my husband does irritate me!" said Madame Destival to her neighbor, assuming a frigid air to welcome Auguste, who said to her:

"What, madame! have you been so kind as to be uneasy because of my non-appearance?"

"I have not said a word of that sort, monsieur. I cannot conceive why Monsieur Destival delights in crediting me with statements the thought of which I do not even entertain. I simply considered that when a person promised to arrive in time for luncheon, it was ridiculous to put in an appearance at the end of the day. However, I am not at all surprised, and--But, bless my soul! what on earth has happened to you, monsieur? What a plight you are in! A wound in the face--clothes all disarranged--It would seem that you have had some thrilling adventure."

"In truth, madame," said Auguste, bowing to Athalie, who returned his salutation with a simpering air, "I did have an encounter----"

"Perhaps he met the wolf," suggested Monin, walking up to Destival; "it seems that there is one in the woods. The peasant woman who sold my wife her cucumbers told her that the other day----"

"Can it be that you have been fighting with a wolf, my gallant Dalville?" cried Destival, presenting his bayonet to the company as if he proposed to charge a hollow square.

"Oh, no!" said madame, with a sly smile, "it was no wolf that made that mark on monsieur's face; it looks like something entirely different; don't you think so, my dear love?"

"That looks to me exactly like the scratch of a finger-nail," said Athalie the vivacious, looking very closely at Auguste; "isn't it that, monsieur?"

"You are not mistaken, madame."

"So you have been fighting, have you, monsieur?" said Madame Destival.

"No, madame, I simply met a very pretty little boy, who had broken the bowl in which he was carrying soup to his father. I gave him a piece of money to console him; at that, in his joy he embraced me; he patted my cheeks with his little hands, and he--he accidentally scratched me a little. That is a faithful account of my adventure, mesdames."

Madame Destival bit her lip and glanced at her companion, who smiled. It was evident that they both doubted the truth of Dalville's story; but he cared very little what they might think. Taking advantage of this brief pause in the conversation, Monin went to Auguste, whom he had met twice at his neighbor's and said to him in the most amiable manner:

"How's your health?"

"Very good, Monsieur Monin, except for this scratch, which is not dangerous."

"You are joking, monsieur! I tell you finger-nail scratches are not to be trifled with.--Do you use snuff?"

"Thanks."

"I know all about it, and I'll tell you why: my wife has a----"

Having no curiosity to hear Monin's story, Dalville followed the ladies, who had returned to the garden. Athalie's presence aroused in the young man a desire to be agreeable. He had not expected to find any other lady than the mistress of the house, who was well enough, but with whom he no longer took pains to be agreeable. Why? Was it because he was no longer in love with her, or because he was sure of pleasing her, or--On my word, you ask me too much.

Madame de la Thomassinière's vivacity and unconventionality harmonized perfectly with Auguste's lively humor and free-and-easy manners; and as greater liberty is authorized in the country, after a very short time he and the petite-maîtresse were laughing and joking together as if they had known each other for years.

Madame Destival did not share their gayety; she was sulky, said little, and contented herself with darting eloquent glances at the young man from time to time; the more intimate her two companions became, the more her ill-humor seemed to increase. Meanwhile they were strolling about the garden; they sat down; then Madame de la Thomassinière went to look at a pretty view, or pluck a flower, or chase a butterfly, and as she sauntered back showed Auguste a double row of lovely teeth, and seemed to say:

"Why don't you come with me?"

But Madame Destival did not leave her, and although visibly annoyed, she too ran after the butterflies.

"What on earth is the matter with you, my dear love?" said Athalie, good-humoredly; "you don't seem very hilarious."

"I beg pardon, I am satisfied; but a severe headache has just come on."

"Go in the house and lie down for a moment."

"No, my child, oh, no! I prefer to stay with you."

"You shouldn't stand on ceremony in the country. Besides, monsieur will bear me company. We will catch butterflies together."

"I will catch whatever you please, madame," said Auguste, with a smile which was instantly succeeded by a wry face, because Madame Destival pinched his arm as she replied:

"No, the air will do me good. But I thought that you intended to have some music?"

"Oh! we shall have time enough this evening, as I am to pass the night here. Is monsieur to remain?"

"If madame will kindly allow me to do so?" said Auguste, glancing at his hostess, who replied angrily:

"As you please, monsieur."

After walking for some time longer, they stopped beside a swing, and the sprightly Athalie sprang to a seat on the narrow plank, held in place by two cords only, saying to Auguste:

"Oh! do give me a push, please. I am wild over swinging; I have nearly killed myself a dozen times, but it makes no difference, I always come back to it. Not too high, monsieur, do you understand?"

"As high or as low as you choose, madame."

Auguste stood near the swing and pushed gently, while Madame Destival seated herself at a little distance, with her handkerchief at her eyes. The young man was distraught; he looked at Athalie and Madame Destival in turn; the former's petulant ways attracted him, the other's grief seemed to cause him pain.

"Oh! what fun! how lovely it is!" cried the petite-maîtresse. "Keep on, monsieur, harder! Look out, you are jerking me.--Ah! my dear, you can't imagine how I like this!"

Madame de la Thomassinière gave no sign of being tired of swinging; but Madame Destival, who was not at all amused, resorted to the device of fainting, and fell back in her chair with a hollow groan. Thereupon Auguste left the swing and ran to Emilie, exclaiming:

"What is the matter, madame?"

"Leave me; you are a monster!" replied Madame Destival, her eyes still closed.

"What have I done, pray?"

"Do you think that I have not noticed your conduct?"

"My conduct has been perfectly natural, I should say----"

"Not content with coming here from--from I don't know where, monsieur presumes, in my presence, to make love to that flirt, who behaves in the most indecent way! I should have hoped that you would at least respect my house, monsieur!"