Part 5

"Really, madame, I cannot in the least understand your anger. I am courteous, polite--nothing more."

"Do you think that I have no eyes? It is far too evident. The least that you can do is to show some little self-restraint!"

"But----"

"Hush!"

"Well!" said Athalie, noticing that the swing moved more slowly, "what are you doing, monsieur? You are not pushing, you are letting me stop; and I don't want that. Are you tired already? Fie! a young man too!"

At that moment appeared Monsieur Monin, who, seeing that his host was determined to practise the manual until dinner, and feeling that he had not the strength to continue, had dropped his spade and bent his steps toward the garden, where, as he wiped his forehead, he sought to freshen up his ideas by resorting to his snuff-box.

"You have come in the nick of time, Monsieur Monin," said Madame Destival; "madame is sorely in need of somebody to swing her. Do her that service, she will be overjoyed."

As she said this, Emilie rose, took Auguste's arm and led him to another part of the garden, leaving Monin agape with amazement at the task assigned him, and Athalie still in the swing. Having her back to the others, she had not noticed their departure and was still ignorant of the fact that she had changed swingers.

"Well! push me, monsieur!" she said, wriggling about in the swing to make herself go.

Monin fortified himself with a pinch of snuff and walked toward the swing; but, having miscalculated the space that it covered in swinging back, the seat came down upon him as he was turning up his sleeves in order to push harder, and the young woman's plump figure struck him in the face.

Dazed by the blow, Monin fell on the turf a step or two away; while Madame de la Thomassinière gave a little shriek because his nose had almost unseated her.

"How awkward you are!" she cried; "if I hadn't held on tight, I should have fallen. Come and stop me, and help me to get down.--Well, monsieur, do you propose to leave me here?"

Monin was not quick to rise, and he was looking for his cap, which the swing had knocked off, muttering:

"I am at your service in a minute, madame. You see, if I should go home without my cap, my wife would make a row."

Really vexed, Athalie turned her head and saw Monin trying to climb a tree to reach his cap, which the swing had sent flying to a high branch. The young woman laughed heartily, then jumped down from the swing and walked away, seeking Auguste and Madame Destival in every thicket.

After scouring the garden to no purpose, she returned to the place where she had left Monin; he was still at the foot of the tree, which he had tried vainly to climb, gazing despairingly at his cap, lodged on a branch, which he could not reach, and seeking in his snuff-box some inspiration as to the means of recovering it.

"Which way did they go, monsieur?" asked Athalie, stopping beside him. He looked stupidly about and said:

"Who, madame?"

"Monsieur Dalville and Madame Destival."

"I can't tell you--unless they've gone to drill too."

Athalie went toward the house. Destival was still with Bertrand on the terrace. The young woman entered the salon; it was empty.

"This is very polite," said Athalie; "a perfect gentleman that! It seems that there is no standing on ceremony here. I would like right well to know if Monsieur Dalville is with Madame Destival. She had a sick-headache; I am curious to know how she gets rid of it."

The young woman left the salon and passed through several rooms without meeting anybody, for Julie and Baptiste were busy in the kitchen, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière's three servants had gone to the village to play goose. She went up to the first floor, where Madame Destival's bedroom was; but the door was closed and locked.

"She is in her room," thought the petite-maîtresse; and she knocked gently. There was no reply; she knocked louder. At last Madame Destival asked who was there.

"I, my dear," Athalie replied. "I came up to have a chat with you."

"Excuse me, I had dropped asleep; my headache is so much worse----"

"I have one too, and I will lie down in your room a moment; it will do me good."

"Hasn't Julie shown you your room?"

"No, my love; let me in, pray."

Madame de la Thomassinière was determined not to go away, and after some little time she was admitted. Madame Destival appeared with her clothes no more disarranged than was natural in a person who had been lying down. As she went in, Athalie glanced about the room, and her eyes longed to pierce the walls of a small closet at the foot of the bed, the mirrored door of which was tightly closed.

"Oh dear! how my head jumps!" said Madame Destival, putting her hand to her forehead.

"Isn't it any better?" asked Athalie, seating herself on a couch.

"No; quite the contrary."

"Lie down again, my dear; I will stretch myself out on this couch; I shall not be sorry for a little rest myself. This hot sun affects my nerves."

Madame Destival seemed disinclined to return to her bed; she walked about the room impatiently, and said:

"Oh, no! I don't want to go to sleep again, it's almost dinner-time."

"How on earth did you ever succeed in sleeping here? Your husband makes such a noise with his 'present arms,' and his 'ready, aim!'"

"It didn't disturb me at all."

"What did you do with Monsieur Dalville?"

"What did I do with him? Why, nothing."

"I thought he was with you."

"With me?"

"When you left me in the swing, didn't you take him away with you, and leave in his place the charming Monsieur Monin, whose society is so entertaining?"

"Monsieur Auguste left me immediately; he must have gone for a walk to the village."

"Do you know, my dear, that I should not have recognized Monsieur Dalville from the picture that you drew of him. In the first place, you said that he wasn't good-looking, that he had a common look."

"I did not say common, I swear."

"That he hadn't good style, that he was a rake, a ne'er-do-well, a man whose visits might compromise a woman."

"Oh! you exaggerate, my dear!"

"I beg your pardon, but you said all that, you drew a shocking portrait of him! For my part, I think him very good-looking, and I like his manners very much."

"That is very fortunate for him, madame."

"Well! what on earth are you doing? You are putting on your belt inside out."

"Why, so I am! I have fits of absent-mindedness."

"Shall I fasten your dress for you, my dear?"

"Thanks; I can dress myself."

At that moment the sound of something being placed against the window made Emilie jump.

"What is that?" she said.

"It was in that closet, I think; something fell."

"No, madame, the noise didn't come from the closet; it was at the window."

The ladies went to the window and saw Monsieur Destival, who had just placed a ladder against the outer sill.

"What in the world are you doing, monsieur?" exclaimed Madame Destival in alarm; "what is the meaning of this ladder and all this confusion?"

"My dear love, I know now all the evolutions there are; the only thing left for me to learn is to storm a fort; that's the bouquet, so Bertrand says, and he's going to show me how. You, mesdames, are inside the fortress, you represent the enemy; you must try to keep us out, but we will enter the citadel in spite of you."

"What is the meaning of this absurd nonsense, monsieur?"

"It's the bouquet, madame, I tell you.--Come, Bertrand; one! two! At the double-quick, isn't it?"

"I am not willing that you should storm my room, monsieur.--Take away that ladder, Bertrand, I beg you.--You are mad, monsieur! Do you have to storm a fort to catch a wolf?"

"Nobody knows what may happen, madame."

"I know that you won't happen to reach my room, monsieur."

As she said this, Madame Destival closed her window with a bang, and led Madame de la Thomassinière from her room, saying:

"Let's go down, my dear, let's go down, I beg you, for they'll turn everything topsy-turvy with their drilling."

They went out on the terrace, where Monsieur Destival still held his ladder, which Bertrand tried in vain to take away from him. The business agent was determined to raise it somewhere.

"Mon Dieu! monsieur, if you absolutely must lay siege to something," said Madame Destival, "let it be a tree in the garden, and not my bedroom."

Bertrand grasped at this idea, and Athalie suggested to them that they should attack the tree in which Monsieur Monin's cap had lodged. They went toward the swing and found the ex-druggist there, with his short, fat arms around the tree, trying to climb it, but unable to raise himself more than three inches from the ground.

At sight of the ladder, Monin uttered a cry of delight, and outdid himself in thanks when Monsieur Destival ascended it at the double-quick, having no suspicion that the manoeuvre had any other purpose than the recovery of his cap. But alas! Monsieur Destival thought it best to capture the trophy with his bayonet, and the point of his weapon pierced the top, which was of thin straw. Bertrand shouted "Bravo!" Monin made a wry face, the ladies laughed, and Auguste arrived in time to witness the tableau.

Auguste bestowed a sweet smile on Madame de la Thomassinière and a rather cold bow on Madame Destival. I do not know whether you can guess the cause, but the ladies had no difficulty.

"Are you just from the village, monsieur?" said the petite-maîtresse, showing her pretty teeth.

"Yes, madame, I have had a most instructive walk; I have acquired some new knowledge, and I hope to make good use of it."

"Dinner is on the table," said a thin, yellow little man, with a napkin on his arm. It was Baptiste, the one male servant, who acted as scrubber, cook, footman, errand-boy and butler all at once, pending the time when Monsieur Destival should establish his household on a more extensive scale. So that poor Baptiste was worked to death, and told Julie every day that he did not propose to remain in a place where they made him do the work of a horse.

"Say that dinner is served, Baptiste. That fellow will never be trained!--Come, mesdames, to the table! Ouf! I have well earned it. I have drilled terribly hard to-day.--Here, Monin, here's your cap. Did you see how I picked it up?"

"You made a hole in it," said Monin, gazing at the crown with a piteous expression.

"Bah! in the heat of the action; charge, bayonets! one, two! eh, Bertrand?--But the ladies have gone already. Let's go now and attack the dinner; I expect to make a tremendous breach in it. Go to Julie, Bertrand; she'll look after you."

Bertrand betook himself to the servants' quarters, and Monin, after trying to bring the straws nearer together and conceal the hole in his cap, followed his host to the dining-room.

They were all seated at the table, when Monsieur Destival cried:

"Well! how about Monsieur de la Thomassinière? He's missing again."

"That's so, I had forgotten all about my husband," said Athalie, smiling at her right-hand neighbor; and that neighbor was Auguste, who was seated between the two ladies. "Oh! you mustn't wait for him."

"It's very annoying! Where can he have gone? Do you suppose he has lost his way in the Forest of Bondy?"

"It's a very dangerous place," said Monin, fastening his napkin to his buttonhole; "they say there's a band of robbers there just now, who----"

"Suppose I tell your three servants to beat up the neighborhood? What do you think, madame?"

"Oh! no, monsieur; don't worry about my husband, I beg. I assure you that he will turn up. I am not in the least anxious."

"So long as madame is not disturbed," said Madame Destival, pursing her lips, "it seems to me that we should do wrong to be. After what she says, we may venture to dine."

"Very good, let us dine. One, two, at the soup, and by the left flank at the beef."

"For heaven's sake, monsieur, are we going to hear nothing now but 'one, two'?"

"Faith, madame, this day has given me a great liking for the military profession. What a fine thing is a man who holds himself perfectly straight, with his body thrown back!--Pass me the beans.--Your man Bertrand is a terrible fellow; he knows his business root and branch. Deuce take it! what a fellow he is! How he handles a musket! He told me that he was satisfied with me. Three or four lessons more, and I hope----"

"I hoped that you knew quite enough, monsieur."

"Madame, a man cannot know too much about managing weapons. I wish now that we might be attacked by robbers!"

"Would you set them to drilling, monsieur?"

"No, madame, but I would make the most of my advantages; I can fire four shots in five minutes now."

"I didn't know that, monsieur."

"Oh! there are still more surprising things. Just look at Monin; he did nothing but listen to us a moment, but see how much better he carries himself than he did this morning."

"It is certain," said Monin, raising a turnip on his fork and putting it in his mouth as if the latter were a gun barrel, "it is certain that drilling is good for a man; and I'll tell you what----"

Monin was interrupted by the arrival of La Thomassinière, quite out of breath, for he had taken a long nap under his tree, and, on waking, had reflected that they might dine without him.

"Ah! here you are at last, you terrible man!" said Destival.

"I beg pardon; I am late, I know, but I have written at least ten letters since I left you."

"Why didn't you write them here?"

"Faith, I was in such a hurry that I went into the first place I saw."

"Well, sit down beside Madame Destival."

"I'll soon overtake you, for, you see, I don't eat beef; it's poor stuff, is beef! it isn't worth eating."

Monsieur de la Thomassinière took his seat, gazing at Auguste with some surprise, because he had given him only a slight nod, and continued to eat without apparently paying any attention to the parvenu, which was a sore trial to that gentleman, who always wanted to make a sensation.

But Dalville had seen on the instant what manner of man Monsieur de la Thomassinière was. Fools enjoy the advantage of being accurately judged in a very short time, whereas it often requires a long time to form a just appreciation of men of sense.

The dinner was lively enough, thanks to Auguste and his neighbor on his left, who talked all manner of nonsense and seemed very much inclined to suit their actions to their words. The mistress of the house ate little, and Monin ate a great deal. Monsieur Destival attacked each dish in measured time, and stuck his fork into a radish as if it were a bayonet. As for Monsieur de la Thomassinière, when he found that Dalville was determined not to take any notice of him, he decided to make himself prominent by holding forth concerning the various dishes. He declared the chicken cooked too much, the peas too large, the salad too sour, and the beaune too new. An exceedingly agreeable guest was Monsieur de la Thomassinière; but a very rich man must never seem content with what is put before him. The idea! that would make people think that he had never eaten anything good.

It was dark when they reached the dessert, because it was late when they sat down. The sky was heavily overcast; the heat became more intense, and the flashes that rent the clouds from time to time indicated an impending storm.

Monsieur Monin made haste to eat his cheese, because his wife was afraid of the thunder, and his orders were to go home to her whenever a storm was brewing. La Thomassinière asked if the house was provided with lightning rods. Monsieur Destival ordered all the windows closed at the first clap of thunder, and the sight of the lightning made him forget to present arms with his glass. As for the petite-maîtresse, she declared that she was terribly afraid of a thunder storm, and she hid her face upon Auguste's shoulder at every flash.

"The deuce! the deuce! the weather is very threatening!" said Monsieur Destival. "Come, messieurs, a glass of champagne; that will scatter the clouds and make us forget.--Baptiste, have you shut everything tight?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Be very careful that there's no draught."

"But you are stifling us, monsieur."

"Windows must be closed when it thunders, madame; that is only prudent."

"Then why don't you have a lightning-rod?" said La Thomassinière; "I have three on my country-house, two on the house I live in in Paris, and one on my other fine house on Rue de Buffaut."

"Yes, I shall have one put on at once.--Come, messieurs, your glasses, there goes the cork."

"Oh! mon Dieu!" cried Athalie, pressing against her neighbor; "how you frightened me with your cork!"

"The storm seems to frighten you terribly, my dear love," said Madame Destival, with a sneer.

"Oh, yes! terribly!"

"My wife's nerves are extremely sensitive."

"Look out, you're not pouring into the glass, Destival."

"That confounded flash dazzled me. Will your charming wife have some?"

"Yes, I'm very fond of champagne. Please make it foam a lot, monsieur."

"Here you are, belle dame.--Come, Dalville, drink with madame."

"That is just what monsieur is doing," said Madame Destival spitefully.

"And you, Monin, pass your glass."

"Oh! I was just going to say that I must go; my wife's afraid of thunder."

"Why, your wife's making pickles, you know; she's busy."

"But when it thunders she drops everything and crawls under a woolen quilt, and if I shouldn't go to see how she is--Oh! what a crash! it came very soon after the lightning, so the storm can't be far away."

"Suppose we have a little music?" said Monsieur Destival, helping himself to a third glass of champagne, in order to recover his courage; "it seems to me that that wouldn't be a bad idea. What do you say, Dalville?"

Auguste had stooped to pick up his knife, which he had dropped under the table for the second time.

"Monsieur is awkward to-day," said Madame Destival, rising from the table with a gesture of impatience; "I believe that we shall do well to go up to the salon."

At that moment the clouds broke, the rain fell in torrents, and the fields assumed a novel aspect. Everybody rose; the petite-maîtresse leaned heavily on Auguste's arm, because the storm had taken away all her strength. Monsieur de la Thomassinière, desirous to play the scholar, because he thought that his companions were no more learned than he, went to one of the windows and declared that the storm would not be _consequential_ because the atmosphere was very beautiful at sunset.

Auguste could not restrain a slight laugh, which caused the trembling Athalie to press his arm all the harder. Monsieur Destival, who had recovered his spirits in some measure since the rain began, which made the storm much less dangerous, executed a half wheel to the left of the company, and charged up the stairs at the double-quick. Monin was left alone in the dining-room, folding his napkin as a matter of habit, and muttering as he listened to the rain:

"It's coming down hard, and I haven't any umbrella, and they've made a hole in the top of my cap! so what am I going to do?"

Having taken snuff two or three times, our friend decided to address Julie, who had just passed through the room. He followed her, calling after her:

"I beg pardon, mademoiselle, but couldn't you----"

As Julie did not reply, Monin followed her to the kitchen, where Bertrand was drinking with Baptiste and Monsieur de la Thomassinière's three tall footmen, who did not agree with their master that the beaune was too new.

"Could you lend me an umbrella?" asked Monin.

"We haven't any here," Julie replied curtly.

"Nonsense! an umbrella!" said Bertrand, in whom the beaune had already aroused a tendency to talk. "As if a man should use such a thing! Is that what I taught you this morning--to handle an umbrella?"

The guests began to laugh, and Julie elbowed Monin gradually toward the door, saying:

"I don't like to have so many people in my kitchen, monsieur; they get in my way. Besides, you don't belong here."

Julie closed the door; and Monin, finding himself expelled from the kitchen, decided to go up to the salon and wait until the storm should have subsided. Dalville and Athalie were at the piano, singing a nocturne. Monsieur Destival was playing écarté with Monsieur de la Thomassinière; and Madame Destival, while pretending to watch the game, lost nothing of what took place at the piano.

"I have the honor to wish you good-evening," said Monin, noiselessly entering the salon.

"Why, haven't you gone, neighbor? I supposed that you were at home before this."

"No, I'll tell you--the rain----"

"In that case, you must take a hand. Come, bet on me and you will win."

"Can I bet now?"

"Yes, it isn't too late."

"All right; then I'll bet two sous."

"What sort of bet is that--two sous!" exclaimed La Thomassinière contemptuously; "do you suppose that I play for copper? It's vulgar enough to play for a crown. Take that away, monsieur, it's covered with verdigris."

"It's my two sous, monsieur; I bet them."

"No one wants them, monsieur."

"What! have I won already?"

"Here, I'll fix that," said Destival, taking a ten-sou piece from his pocket; "I'll add eight sous to make up Monin's bet. So I stake three francs forty, and you, my dear fellow, three francs ten. My neighbor is prudent, you see, and yet he is very rich, in very comfortable circumstances. His nest is well feathered, the rascal!"

"Then how can he propose to bet two sous?" said La Thomassinière; "it's beyond belief.--Ace, ace, and ace. You are robbed."

"What! does he admit that he has robbed us?" Monin asked his neighbor in an undertone.

"That means that we have lost.--Well, now for our revenge.--Aren't you betting, Madame Destival?"

"No, monsieur, I prefer to listen to the singing."

"Betting won't prevent you, madame; I don't lose a note while I am playing."

"Nor I," said La Thomassinière. "I am like Cato, I can easily do four things at once!"

"Haven't you any duets of Rossini's here, my dear?" inquired Athalie, running her fingers over the keys.

"Why, I don't know, but I think not."

"I think, madame, that I have had the pleasure of singing some of them with you here," said Dalville.

"Ah! you remember, do you, monsieur?"

"Here's a duet from _La Gazza_," said Athalie, after upsetting all the music on the piano; "let's try it, monsieur."

"Ace, and _passe carreau_!" cried Monsieur de la Thomassinière triumphantly, taking up the money that was on the table.

"What does _passe carreau_ mean?" Monin asked Destival in a whisper.

"It means that we have lost, as you see."

"I don't know the terms of the game. That makes four sous that I've lost already."

"Make your bet."

"Allow me to see what the weather is, first. Oh! it's still raining very hard. I am in the game."

"Monsieur is lucky!"

"And then, too, I am pretty good at this game!" said La Thomassinière, leaning back in his chair.

"I believe that I play it rather well too," rejoined Destival, biting his lips angrily.

"Be quiet, messieurs! we can't hear each other sing!" said the sprightly Athalie, while Auguste sang: "_Il certo il mio periglio_."

La Thomassinière beat time falsely with his foot, murmuring, to make believe that he understood Italian:

"Very pretty! exceedingly pretty! bravo! bravo! bravissimo!"

Whereupon Monin stooped and whispered to Destival:

"Does that mean that we have lost, too?"

"No, no! don't you hear them singing Italian? It's a duet by La Pie."[B]

[B] _Pie_ in French means magpie.

"Oho! it's by La Pie!" Monin repeated, rolling his eyes about and taking out his snuff-box. "How does it happen, neighbor, that a _pie_ writes a duet?"

"My dear Monin," said Destival testily, "please don't talk to me all the time; you see, you make me lose."

"What! I make you lose, although I am not playing?"

"Yes, yes, it confuses me. Bet again. I certainly am not a poor player, but when a person talks like that----"

"You see we've got a _pie_ at home that talks finely, and I wanted to know--That makes eight sous I've lost."

"And I sixteen francs!"