Part 6

"Bah! what does that amount to, messieurs?" said La Thomassinière; "if you played for handfuls of gold as I do, it would be all very well; that's what you can call gambling! I am very sorry to waste my luck for such small stakes.--Bravo! bravissimo! _Certo pio pio piu! Atoussimo!_"

La Thomassinière insisted on mixing Italian into everything that he said, and Destival forced himself to smile, as he felt in his pockets; but his gayety was forced, and his smiles were grimaces. The two singers exchanged melting glances as they executed together roulades and flourishes, which they prolonged inordinately, and during which Madame Destival coughed impatiently in the hope of disturbing the harmony that was rapidly becoming established between them.

Suddenly the door of the salon was thrown open; a stout woman of fifty or thereabouts, wearing a straw hat whose brim barely overpassed her forehead and upon which nodded a wreath of faded roses, entered the room with the air of a person in a towering rage, holding an umbrella in one hand, and in the other a reticule large enough to hold a ten pound loaf of sugar. At sight of her Monin started back, lost his wits, upset his snuff-box, and acted as if he proposed to hide himself under the table.

"Ah! so you're here, are you, monsieur?" cried Madame Monin, for it was that lady in person who had entered the salon. "I find you gambling. I suspected as much. I wish you good-evening, neighbors. While it's thundering and a frightful storm is raging, monsieur sits here gambling instead of coming home to comfort me; and yet he knows how afraid I am of thunder storms! Excuse me, neighbor, for venturing to scold him before you, but you must agree that his conduct is unpardonable."

During this sermon, poor Monin, who had no idea what he was doing, staked a forty-sou piece instead of two sous, and stuffed his fingers into his snuff-box, in which there was nothing at all, stammering the while with a contrite air:

"How's your health, Bichette?"

"My health! a lot you worry about it, on my word! To leave me alone during the storm! Catherine had to keep me company under the quilt."

"It was the rain that----"

"As if a man should be afraid of the rain! for shame! You make me blush!"

Madame Destival did not like Madame Monin; but, being overjoyed by her arrival at that moment, she gave her a seat near the piano and overwhelmed her with attentions, to which Madame Monin replied by repeated curtsies, at the same time handing her husband the umbrella. He stepped forward to take it, and, forgetting that he was interested in the game, murmured so low that she could hardly hear him:

"Whenever you're ready, Bichette."

But Bichette, who was comfortably seated and was already beginning to criticise Madame de la Thomassinière, replied sharply:

"Now that I've come, do you think I propose to go right away again? That would be polite, wouldn't it? that would be worthy of you! I shall have the pleasure of chatting with my neighbor a minute, and listening to the music. I'm very fond of music."

"You sing, I believe--do you not, Madame Monin?" inquired Madame Destival eagerly.

"Oh! I used to sing; I had rather a good voice, too; but I've forgotten almost everything now except the duet from _Armide_: '_Aimons-nous! aimons-nous! tout nous y convie!_' That's so lovely! it will never grow old."

"I have the score of _Armide_; you must sing that for us with Monsieur Dalville."

"Oh! really, neighbor!"

"Do you hear the present that's to be given you?" whispered Athalie to Auguste.

"I am much obliged," replied Dalville; "upon my word, I don't know what I have done to Madame Destival to make her play such a trick on me."

"Don't be alarmed; if she forces you to sing the duet, I'll be your accompanist, and I promise you that three or four chords will be broken before the tenth measure."

"How good you are, and how deeply indebted I shall be to you!"

Monin, seeing that his wife had softened somewhat, made bold to say to her:

"You sing very nicely too that song about sheep: '_Margot filait tranquillement, ne pensant, ne rêvant qu'à son p'tit, p'tit, p'tit._'"

"Hush, monsieur, and attend to your game, as you're so fond of gambling. Is it piquet they're playing there?"

"No, Bichette, écarté."

"What? écarté? And how long have you known écarté, monsieur?"

"I don't know it, but I was just going to tell you, I'm betting on it."

"Ah! you're betting, are you? Well, I trust that you are modest at least, and don't play for big stakes?"

"Oh, no! never fear, Bichette!"

"You have lost your forty sous, Monsieur Monin!" exclaimed Destival at that moment, heaving a deep sigh.

"Forty sous!" shouted Madame Monin, jumping from her chair with a violence that made all the furniture in the room tremble; "what's that? Monsieur Monin betting forty sous! Why, that is horrible! For heaven's sake, neighbor, what did you give him to drink at dinner?--What is the meaning of such extravagance, Monsieur Monin? Have you gone crazy?"

"No, Bichette, it's a mistake; I assure you that I didn't bet but two sous."

"You put forty sous on the table, monsieur," said La Thomassinière, "and they're lost."

"I had won a lot, you see," whispered Monin to his wife; "that was just my winnings."

"You must admit that I am playing in hard luck," said Destival; "that makes seven times that I have been responsible for Monin's losing."

"Seven times, monsieur! have you bet seven times in succession?" cried Madame Monin, glaring at her husband with the expression of a cat about to pounce upon a mouse.

"Why, no, Bichette; you know perfectly well that I am incapable of such a thing!"

"Here's the duet from _Armide_," said Madame Destival; "come, Monsieur Dalville, sing it with madame."

"I don't know it," said Auguste.

"Nonsense! you are enough of a musician to sing it at sight."

"I'll prompt you in your passages, monsieur," said Madame Monin, removing her hat lest it should interfere with her voice.

Madame Monin began. Her voice was almost enough to set one's teeth on edge. Monin applauded every measure. Suddenly a chord broke. The vivacious Athalie ran her fingers over the keys and seemed excited by the fire with which she was playing. Soon a second chord broke, then a third, and it was impossible to go on. Athalie left her seat, saying:

"What a pity! it was going so well!"

"That's the disadvantage of your pianos," said Madame Monin testily, as she put on her shepherdess's hat; "Monsieur Monin's little flute's the thing; there's no danger of that ever breaking, at all events."

"Do you want me to go and get it, Bichette?"

"Upon my word, this is a pretty time of night to make such a suggestion! We must go home to bed, monsieur; that will be much better than your little flute."

Destival left the card-table, red as a turkey-cock.

"I can't stand it any longer!" he cried. "That makes twelve times that he has passed! I've lost at least forty francs!"

"Oh! how can anyone risk so much money?" said Madame Monin. "If you should ever lose forty francs, Monsieur Monin, I'd have a separation at once."

"Here's a fine to-do over a trifle!" said La Thomassinière, rising from his chair; "I'll stake it on a single hand to-morrow, at a notary's, who's a friend of mine. That's where they play écarté! The table is covered with gold and bank-notes! Ah! there's some fun in that! But otherwise écarté's a very stupid game.--Well! are we going to bed?"

"Go to bed, monsieur, who's preventing you?" said Athalie; "we don't need you."

"Faith, I am terribly sleepy."

"Baptiste will show you to your room, which is over this."

"And where is mine, my dear, if you please?" queried the petite-maîtresse, as her husband went up to bed without bidding anyone good-night, because it was bad form.

"Yours, my dear?" rejoined Madame Destival; "why, with your husband; we have only one room to offer you."

"What! can it be by any chance that you are going to make me sleep with him?"

"Why, of course."

"Oh! that is absurd! Such a thing never occurred to me. I never sleep with Monsieur de la Thomassinière. I have my own suite, as you know."

"For once, belle dame," said Destival, with a sly expression, "our dear husband will not complain."

"Mon Dieu! how amusing!" exclaimed Athalie, sulkily. Meanwhile, Madame Monin, who had succeeded at last in tucking up her dress and putting on her shawl, said to Madame Destival with a simper:

"For my part, I sleep with my husband, and I should just like to hear him mention a separate room! Ha! ha!"

"You know perfectly well, Bichette, that I have no desire to----"

"All right, Monsieur Monin, I know what I know.--Good-night, neighbors.--Well, monsieur, why don't you put on your cap? What sort of way is that to act?"

Monin was afraid that his wife would discover the hole in his cap. He finally decided to wear it over his left ear, so that the top would be less visible to the eyes of his better half. And Madame Monin led her spouse away, promising him that she would never again let him dine out without her, because he was not careful of himself at the table, and wine made him plunge into all sorts of extravagance.

When his neighbors had gone, Monsieur Destival admitted that the drilling had fatigued him terribly, and he speedily vanished.

The music had cemented the intimacy between Dalville and the brilliant Athalie. With those who are capable of enjoying the charms of harmony, there is nothing that brings two hearts together so quickly as a sweet or tender ditty, or a passage overladen with passion, which the performers often address to each other. Music is a very potent auxiliary in love; it stirs the emotions, it speaks to the soul. Thank heaven, almost all our ladies know how to play the piano now.

But Athalie rose, and Madame Destival escorted her to her apartment. Before going in, the petite-maîtresse laughingly said to her friend:

"My dear, I must tell you something in confidence: I believe I've made a conquest of Monsieur Dalville."

"Do you think so?"

"I am almost sure of it; he has been talking to me in that veiled way,--you know what I mean; and then he squeezed my hand very tenderly."

"I congratulate you!"

"Oh! you understand that I mean to have a little sport with him, that's all."

"But I must tell you frankly that the conquest is of little value, for he is a man who falls in love with every woman he sees.--Adieu, my dear, good-night."

"Until to-morrow, my love! I shall get up early for a walk in the fields."

"I will go with you, my dear."

The ladies parted. Madame Destival went down to the salon, but Dalville was no longer there; he too had retired. So madame did the same and summoned Julie to undress her.

VI

THE COMPANY RETURNS TO PARIS

The night passed. Did its protecting darkness banish Madame Destival's irritation and her husband's fatigue? Did Dalville determine to be virtuous, and Bertrand to be sober? Did the sprightly Athalie become reconciled to the necessity of sharing her husband's bed, and did Monsieur de la Thomassinière sleep well beside his wife? These are mysteries which I am unable to solve.

All I know is that Madame Destival rose with her friend's pleasant confidence of the night before still in her mind, and that she said to herself as she dressed:

"The flirt did everything that she could to assure the conquest of Auguste. I saw all her simpering and smiles while they were singing. No doubt she hopes to receive a declaration in due form this morning; but I am sorry for you, madame, for I shall be on the spot, I shall not let you out of my sight, I will not allow such intrigues to be carried on in my house. Oh! women are such coquettes nowadays!--I think I will put this rose in my hair; it's more becoming than a ribbon. Mon Dieu! how badly my curl-papers work to-day!--And then they complain because men think unfavorably of our sex. Why, don't they justify them in that opinion by acting as they do? At the very first meeting, to let a man see that one is attracted by him--shocking! And a woman of twenty, married two years at most! Ah! Monsieur Auguste, you don't deserve any friends."

Monsieur Destival, on laying aside the silk handkerchief that covered his head at night, took his stand in front of his mirror and presented arms with a vessel which he had forgotten to replace in the night-table. Forgetting that he was in his shirt, Destival, who had dreamed of exterminating all the beasts in the district, made the circuit of his chamber at the double-quick, and took aim at his bolster with the tongs. But in that martial posture the remembrance of the forty francs he had lost at écarté the night before presented itself to his mind, and as one cannot attend to business while practising the manual of arms, our friend recurred to more peaceable ideas and proceeded to dress, thinking of nothing but the best means to become as rich as La Thomassinière, so that he might be able to lose a few crowns at play without losing his temper.

Dalville dreamed a little of the fair Athalie, a little of the young milkmaid, a little of Madame Destival, also of some other persons; like one who has no exclusive sentiment in his heart, but allows himself to be led by all the sensations, all the illusions, all the whims of his imagination. He rose without any well-defined plan of operations, without a determination to be more virtuous or more enterprising, without any intention of beginning a new intrigue. Chance should decide, he would act as circumstances might suggest, he would obey the dictates of his heart, or rather of pleasure. For a heedless fellow, that line of conduct was not devoid of wisdom; if to abandon oneself to the course of events, to lay no plans in advance, but to seize on the wing every opportunity to be happy--if that is heedlessness, it bears a strong resemblance to philosophy; in which there is nothing surprising, since extremes meet.

Bertrand had risen before dawn, always ready to carry out his master's orders, even when he did not approve of his conduct. The ex-corporal was well pleased with his repast of the preceding night, because the beaune was not spared, and Baptiste and Tony and the tall lackeys, while drinking with him, listened with respectful attention to his stories of his campaigns. He was walking on the terrace, ready to give Monsieur Destival a lesson in the manual, and perfectly reconciled to the life that people lead in the country.

The petite-maîtresse, whose head was as light as her heart, had risen very early, before her husband was awake. She had slept badly; innumerable thoughts crowded into her mind, but the principal one was as always the desire to attract, to make a sensation; that was the fixed point about which her other sentiments revolved by the force of gravitation, without disturbing the course of the planet whose satellites they were.

As for Monsieur de la Thomassinière, he had slept without waking, and in his dreams had imagined himself the _seigneur_ of a department, decorated with three crosses, a broad ribbon and a star, and richer, more conceited and more insolent than ever. Then he had found himself abruptly transported to the wine-shop of the _Learned Ass_, serving wine to peasants who treated him most cavalierly. That infernal sleep has no respect for anything; it displaces the most powerful men, and effects strange revolutions; it transforms a king into a shepherd, and sometimes raises the plowman to a throne; it confounds the great lord with the humblest plebeian; it makes of a minister of state a poor devil without bread or work or resource, starving in a garret; it transforms the banker into a petty clerk working fourteen hours a day to earn three francs; the poet who sells his pen, into a juggler employed to perform tricks before an audience which pays and despises him. To the kept woman it shows the hospital, to the public harlot, La Salpêtrière, to the young men who frequent roulette tables, the galleys or the nets of Saint-Cloud. It reminds the parvenu of his birth, the public official of the acts of injustice he has committed, the man without sense of honor of the insults he has endured. And all these people do as Monsieur de la Thomassinière did: they awake shrieking that they have a nightmare, and they ascribe those horrid dreams to a bad digestion. They would be very sorry to seek therein a memory of the past and a lesson for the future.

There was no trace of the storm of the preceding evening. The sky was clear, and the country seemed lovelier than ever; the trees glistened with a brilliant green undimmed by dust, the flowers were fresher, the brooks more noisy; everything invited one to enjoy the charms of nature; and that doubtless was the reason that Auguste was already in the garden, standing in the gateway leading into the courtyard, undecided whether he should go for a walk in the fields or remain on the premises. Meanwhile, Athalie had taken a seat under a clump of trees at the end of the garden; she was occupied in arranging some flowers, but her glance constantly wandered to right and left to see if someone was coming to bear her company; while Madame Destival strolled along an adjacent alley ready to join the persons whom she expected to meet in the garden.

Suddenly Auguste heard a voice that was not unknown to him crying:

"Whoa, White Jean! whoa, I say! Have you forgotten that we stop here?"

And at the same instant a milkmaid with her tin cans entered Monsieur Destival's courtyard. Auguste uttered an exclamation of delight when he recognized Denise, and hurried across the courtyard to meet the pretty milkmaid.

"It is really you, lovely Denise!"

"Yes, monsieur, it's I. Didn't I tell you yesterday that I came here every morning to bring milk? I'm very glad to see you again, monsieur."

"Really, Denise, did you want to see me?"

"Yes, monsieur, I wanted to ever so. Oh! that was such a nice thing you did! it was so generous! and even if you do have a little too much blarney with us girls, no matter--I let it go on account of that."

"Bless my soul! what on earth have I done, Denise, to bring down all these compliments on my head?"

"What about Coco, and his soup-bowl, and his old grandmother--don't you remember them?"

"How do you know so much, Denise?"

"Pardi! as if everything wasn't known in the country! The old grandma'am came to the village to buy some things. Coco came with her, and he told everybody that a fine gentleman had given him money to buy another bowl. The grandmother described you, and I knew you right away. It's too bad that Père Calleux is such a drunkard; he passed the whole night in the wine-shop drinking up the crown piece you gave him, and he'll soon get away with the money you left for Coco too. But that ain't your fault, and you were mighty kind to 'em."

"I did nothing except what was perfectly natural, Denise, and I am well rewarded at this moment."

Denise had become more and more animated as she told Auguste what she knew, and the young man's glances made her blush more than ever. She lowered her eyes and smiled, and stood for some moments before the man who was gazing at her, her arms hanging at her sides. Her awkwardness, her embarrassment and her coarse woolen skirt made the charms of her pretty face even more alluring.

At last she took up her cans, which she had placed on the ground, and said:

"I must take this milk to Mamzelle Julie; she's generally up by this time."

"One moment, Denise, I beg you."

"Have you got anything to say to me, monsieur?"

"Oh, yes! In the first place, you look even prettier this morning than you did yesterday."

"Oh! if that's all it is, I may as well go."

"One instant, Denise, please; I feel that the more I see you, the more I love you!"

"Well, then, you mustn't see me any more, monsieur."

"Does it make you angry to have me love you?"

"Oh no! for I'm pretty sure it ain't dangerous."

"If you would listen to me----"

"Adieu, monsieur."

And Denise started to walk away. But Auguste took her hand and stopped her, gazing tenderly at her,--too tenderly for a fickle youth who gazed so at all pretty women. A seducer's eyes should express nothing but inconstancy; unluckily, the eyes lend themselves to every sort of scheme. But perhaps Dalville was moved at that moment by genuine feeling, who knows? Who can read the human heart?

At this juncture Bertrand entered the courtyard; he approached his master, unseen by him, and said:

"Did I hear monsieur call me?"

"Why, no! I didn't call you," replied Auguste angrily, dropping Denise's hand; "you always appear at the wrong time. Is it proper to interrupt people when they are talking together?"

"Pardon, lieutenant, I didn't hear you say anything; I didn't know people talked without speaking."

"Leave us, Bertrand."

Bertrand made a half wheel to the left and went toward the garden; but as he passed Denise, who, although she said that she was going, did not go, and seemed very busy with her little cheeses, the corporal said to her in an undertone:

"Look out for yourself!"

Auguste once more approached Denise, who had started in surprise at Bertrand's words.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing, monsieur, but I must go."

"Will you do me a favor, Denise?"

"Oh, yes! with pleasure, monsieur, if it's anything I can do."

"I have taken a liking to that child I met on the road yesterday. His pretty face, his little honest way, everything speaks in his favor."

"You mean Coco Calleux?"

"Yes."

"I'm fond of him, too, but the poor little fellow's had a hard time since he lost his mother. His grandmother's rough and cross, and his father's a drunkard, and they want that child, only six years old, to go to work so soon! Can you imagine such a thing? Why, he often has nothing but bread to eat, and he's lucky when he doesn't have a beating for his supper. So we in the village don't like that drunken pig of a Calleux, and if the cottage wasn't some distance from the village, Coco would be at our house more than he's at home, I tell you."

"Well, Denise, be good enough to keep an eye on the child and buy him whatever he needs--in short, take my place with him, will you?"

"Oh! with pleasure, monsieur!"

"Here, take this purse, and use the contents to the best advantage for my little protégé. When that is gone, I'll give you more. I shall always approve whatever use you may make of it."

"Ah! you've got a kind heart, monsieur! How glad I am! But such a lot of money as this will last a long time."

"You will do me this favor, won't you?"

"Will I! Pardi! I should say so! Don't you think it's pleasant to be employed to do good? Who could refuse such a commission?--I say, monsieur, I must kiss you for this--do you want me to?"

"Do I want you to, Denise!"

Auguste already had his arms around the girl, and had deposited more than one kiss on the plump cheeks which she offered him with pleasure, when an exclamation and a burst of laughter reached their ears simultaneously. Dalville turned: Madame Destival and Madame de la Thomassinière stood behind him.

"Oh! this is too much!" cried Madame Destival, walking forward with a wrathful glance at Denise, while Athalie continued to laugh, albeit her laughter seemed slightly forced.

"Delicious!" she said. "What! even with milkmaids? I shall remember this! the picture was truly rural."

Denise was not disturbed, for she had no thought that she could be blamed; so she looked at the two ladies in amazement, trying to divine the cause of the merriment of the one and the anger that gleamed in the eyes of the other, and still holding in her hand the purse that the young man had given her.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Madame Destival, with a contemptuous glance at the young milkmaid.

"As you see, madame, I have brought cheese and milk as usual."