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!"
"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."