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!"
"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: