Monsieur Cherami Part 65

At last, the bell rang; it was Monsieur Clairval, cold, phlegmatic, taciturn. Next came Madame Mirallon, who always wore full dress, even at small parties. Next came a lawyer and a doctor, enthusiastic whist players, who were constantly disputing, one being a hot partisan of the short-suit lead, the other declaring that a good player would never stoop to that.

At every ring, f.a.n.n.y gazed eagerly at the door; she made a funny little wry face when she saw that the person who appeared was not he whom she expected.

"My gentleman keeps us waiting a long while!" she murmured; then ran to her sister.--"Adolphine, are you sure you told him Thursday? Perhaps you said some other day?"

"No. At all events, he knows that we have always received on Thursday."

"He knows, he knows! When a man travels so much, he can easily forget.

It's after eight o'clock, and you see he doesn't come."

"Eight o'clock isn't late. Never fear; he'll come."

"You think so?"

"Oh! I am sure of it."

"You are quite sure that he still loves me?"

"If he doesn't, why should he have told me that he did?"

"Oh! my dear, men say so many things that they don't think!"

"I can't understand how anyone can lie about love."

"Ah! you make me laugh; love's just the thing they lie most about.--There's the bell. This time it must be he."

f.a.n.n.y's expectation was deceived once more; Monsieur Batonnin appeared, with his inevitable smile, and his measured words.

"What a bore!" muttered the young woman, moving uneasily on her chair; "it's that wretched Batonnin--the doll-faced man, as we used to call him at our parties."

"Don't you like him? Why, he used to go to your house----"

"Well! what does that prove? Do you imagine that, in society, we are fond of everybody we receive? On the contrary, three-quarters of the time the greatest pleasure we have is in pa.s.sing all our guests in review and picking them to pieces."

"Ah! what a pitiful sort of pleasure! But whom can you share it with?

for, if you speak ill of everybody----"

"You take a new-comer, and go and sit down with him in a corner of the salon; and there, on the pretext of telling him who people are, you give everybody a curry-combing. It's awfully amusing!"

"But the new-comer, if he isn't an idiot, must say to himself: 'As soon as I have gone, she'll say as much about me.'"

"Oh! we don't even wait till he's gone to do that."

Monsieur Batonnin, having paid his respects to Monsieur Gerbault and to the card-players, joined the two sisters.

"How are the charming widow and her lovely sister? The rose and the bud--or, rather, two buds--or two roses; for, both being flowers, and the flowers being sisters, and having thorns--why----"

"Come, Monsieur Batonnin, make up your mind. I want to know whether I am a rose or a bud," said f.a.n.n.y, glancing at the guest with a mocking expression.

"Madame, being no longer unmarried, you are necessarily a rose."

"All right; that fixes my status! And my sister is a bud?"

"Yes, to be sure--but I am pained to observe that this charming bud has drooped a little on its stalk for some time past."

"Do you hear, Adolphine? Monsieur Batonnin thinks that you are drooping on your stalk, which means, I presume, that you are losing your freshness."

"That isn't exactly what I meant to say."

"Don't try to back down, Monsieur Batonnin; besides, you are right; my sister has changed of late. She a.s.sures us that she is not ill, that she has no pain; for my part, I am convinced that something is the matter, but she doesn't choose to make me her confidante."

"Because I have nothing to confide," rejoined Adolphine, in a grave tone; "and it seems to me that monsieur might very well have avoided this subject."

"Excuse me, mademoiselle; I should be much distressed to have offended you; it was my friends.h.i.+p for you which led me to----"

"I myself, monsieur, have never been able to understand the kind of friends.h.i.+p which leads one to say to people point-blank: 'Mon Dieu! how you have changed! you are deathly pale! are you ill? you look very poorly!' If the person to whom you say it is really well, then you have seen awry; if she is really ill, you run the risk of making her worse by frightening her as to her condition. In either case, you see, it would be better to say nothing. Such manifestations of interest resemble those of the friends who can't reach you quickly enough when they have bad news to tell, but whom you never see when you have had any good fortune for which congratulations would be in order."

Monsieur Batonnin bit his lips, and tried to think of an answer; but they had ceased to pay any heed to him, for the door of the salon opened once more, and this time it was Gustave who appeared.

XLV

JOYS AND TORMENTS OF LOVE

The young man, having shaken hands with Monsieur Gerbault, walked toward Adolphine and her sister; it was easy to see how excited and perturbed he was; but Adolphine, whose emotion was even greater perhaps, hastily left her seat and, after responding to Gustave's greeting, went to talk with Monsieur Clairval, who was not playing cards at that moment; so that there was no one to interfere with the interview which Gustave desired to have with her sister.

As for f.a.n.n.y, she was absolutely unembarra.s.sed; she smiled sweetly on Gustave, greeted him as if she had seen him the day before, and said, pointing to a seat by her side:

"So here you are at last, monsieur le voyageur! Mon Dieu! you seem to be imitating the Wandering Jew nowadays; you travel all the time, you are never at rest. Do you know, monsieur, that your friends are not reconciled to your long absences, and you surely will put an end to your peregrinations--unless you have a fancy to discover a new world?"

Gustave, bewildered by the jocular tone in which the widow addressed him, was unable for a moment to find words in which to reply. f.a.n.n.y interpreted his confusion to her own advantage, and continued, but with a change of manner, and in an almost sentimental tone:

"Many things have happened since we met."

"Yes, madame; I have heard of the--loss you have sustained; and I beg you to believe that I shared the grief which you must have felt."

"I don't doubt it; you have so much delicacy of feeling, Monsieur Gustave! Yes, I had a very cruel experience, although Monsieur Monleard hardly deserved the tears I shed for him. He was a proud man, overflowing with vanity, hard-hearted, loving only himself, conceited, self-sufficient; but he is dead, I don't mean to speak ill of him, although he left me in a decidedly equivocal position. Ah! if I had known--if I could have foreseen. I have bitterly regretted what--what----" Then, suddenly changing her tone again, and becoming playful once more: "You are just from Berlin, I hear? Is there much fun there? Are the b.a.l.l.s gorgeous? do the women dress well? does everybody go to the theatre? The Germans are very fond of music; you must have gone to concerts and evening parties and the play a great deal. Ah! what fortunate creatures men are! They can do whatever they please, while we poor women are obliged to stay at home, and, in many cases, never have anyone come to see us! That's the way I've been living for six months; and I am terribly bored; oh! terribly!"

"You had your sister, at least, to share your troubles."

"My sister! She's a lively creature, isn't she? I don't know what's been the matter with her lately, but she's a regular extinguisher. And then, you know, my temperament isn't like Adolphine's; she is melancholy by nature, and I am very light-headed. Don't you remember, Gustave?

Heavens! what a mad creature I am! here I am calling you Gustave, just as I used to before I was married! Does that offend you?"

"Oh! you can't think it; it reminds me of such a happy time!"