From the French of GUSTAVE DROZ.
It was Christmas Eve, and a devilishly cold night. The snow fell
in great flakes, which the wind beat against the window-panes. The
distant chimes reached us, confused and faint through the heavy,
cottony atmosphere. The passers-by, muffled in their cloaks, glided
along hurriedly, brushing by the walls of the houses, bending their
heads before the wind. Wrapped in my dressing-gown, I smiled as I
drummed on the window-pane, smiled at the passers-by, at the north
wind and the snow, with the smile of a happy man who is in a warm
room with his feet in a pair of flannel-lined slippers which sink
into a thick, soft carpet.
My wife sat in a corner of the hearth with a great piece of cloth
before her which she cut and trimmed off; and every now and then she
raised her eyes, which met mine. A new book lay on the mantel-piece
awaiting me, and a log in the fireplace whistled as it spit out those
little blue flames which tempt one to poke it.
"There is nothing so stupid as a man trudging along in the snow. Is
there?" said I.
"Sh-h-h!" said my wife, laying down her scissors. Then she stroked
her chin thoughtfully with her tapering pink fingers, slightly plump
at the extremities, and looked over very carefully the pieces she had
just cut out.
"I say that it is absurd to go out into the cold when it is so easy
to stay at home by the fire."
"Sh-h-h!"
"What the deuce are you doing that is so important?"
"I--I am cutting out a pair of suspenders for you;" and she resumed
her task. Her hair was coiled a little higher than usual; and where I
stood, behind her, I could just see, as she leaned over her work, the
nape of her neck, white and velvety. Innumerable soft little locks
curled there gracefully, and this pretty down reminded me of those
ripe peaches into which we drive our teeth greedily. I leaned nearer
to see and--kissed my wife on the neck.
"Monsieur!" exclaimed Louise, turning suddenly around.
"Madame!" and we both burst into a laugh.
"Come, come; on Christmas Eve!"
"Monsieur apologizes?"
"Madame complains?"
"Yes; Madame complains. Madame complains of your not being more
moved, more thrilled by the spirit of Christmas. The ding-ding-dong
from the bells of Notre Dame awakens no emotion in you; and when the
magic-lantern went by under your very window, you were perfectly
unmoved, utterly indifferent. I watched you attentively, though I
pretended to work."
"Unmoved? Indifferent? I? When the magic lantern went by! Ah, my
dear! you judge me very severely, and really--"
"Yes, yes; laugh if you will. It is nevertheless true that the pretty
memories of your childhood are lost."
"Come, my pet, would you like me to stand my boots in the fireplace
to-night before I go to bed? Would you like me to stop the
magic-lantern man and go and get him a sheet and a candle-end, as
my mother used to do? I can almost see her as she handed him the
sheet. 'Be careful you don't tear it, now,' she would say; and we all
clapped our hands in the mysterious obscurity. I remember all those
joys, dear; but, you see, so many things have happened since. Other
pleasures have obliterated those."
"Yes, I understand,--the pleasures of your bachelorhood! Come, now,
I am sure this is the first Christmas Eve that has ever found you
by your own fireside, in your dressing-gown and without a supper,
because you always had supper; that goes without saying--"
"Why, I don't know--"
"Yes, yes; I wager you always had a supper."
"Well, perhaps I did, once or twice, although I scarcely remember;
I may have had supper with a few old friends. And what did it all
amount to? Two pennies' worth of chestnuts and--"
"And a glass of sugar and water."
"Well, just about. Oh, it was nothing much, I can assure you! It
sounds great at a distance. We talked awhile, and then we went to
bed."
"And he says all that with the straightest face! You have never
breathed a word of these simple pleasures to me."
"But, my dear, what I tell you is the absolute truth. I remember
once, however, at Ernest's, when I was in rather high spirits, we had
a little music afterwards--Will you push me that log? Well, never
mind; it is almost midnight, and time for all reasonable people to--"
(Louise, rising and throwing her arms around me.) "Well, I don't
choose to be reasonable, and I mean to eclipse the memory of those
penny chestnuts and all that sugar and water!" (Pushing me hastily
into my study, and locking the door.)
"What the deuce is the matter with you, my dear?" I cried from the
other side of the partition.
"Give me ten minutes, no more. Your paper is on the mantel-piece; you
have not seen it to-night. You will find the matches in the corner."
Then I heard the rattle of china, the rustle of silky stuffs. Could
my wife have gone crazy? At the end of about ten minutes she unlocked
the door.
"Don't scold me for shutting you out," said she, embracing me.
"Look at me. Have I not made myself beautiful? See! My hair just as
you like it, high, and my neck uncovered. But my poor neck is so
extremely shy that it never could have displayed itself in the broad
light, if I had not encouraged it a little by wearing a low-necked
gown. After all, it is only right to be in full-dress uniform at a
supper with the authority."
"What supper?"
"Why, our supper. My supper with you, of course. Don't you see my
illumination and the table covered with flowers and good things to
eat? I had it all ready in the alcove; but, you see, to push the
table before the fire and make something of a toilet, I had to be
alone. I have a big drop of old Chambertin for you. Come, Monsieur,
come to supper; I am as hungry as a bear! May I offer you this
chicken-wing?"
"This is a charming idea of yours, my love, but I really feel ashamed
of myself,--in my dressing-gown."
"Take it off, sir, if you are uncomfortable, but do not leave me with
this chicken-wing on my hands. Wait a minute; I want to wait upon you
myself." And rising, she swung her napkin over her arm and pulled up
her sleeve to her elbow. "Isn't that the way the waiters do at the
restaurants, tell me?"
"Exactly. But stop a moment, waiter; will you permit me to kiss your
hand?"
"I haven't time," she said, smiling, and she drove the corkscrew
bravely into the neck of a bottle. "Chambertin!--a pretty name. And,
besides, do you remember, before we were married--_sapristi_, what a
hard cork!--you told me you liked it on account of a play by Alfred
de Musset?--which you never gave me to read, by the way. Do you see
those little Bohemian glass tumblers that I bought especially for
to-night? We will drink each other's health in them."
"And his too, eh?"
"The heir's, you mean? Poor little love of an heir, I should think
so! Then I shall hide the two glasses and bring them out again this
day next year, eh, dear? They will be the Christmas-supper glasses,
and we will have supper every year before the hearth, you and I
alone, until our very old, old age."
"Yes; but when we shall have lost all our teeth--"
"Never mind; we shall have nice little soups, and it will none the
less be very sweet. Another piece for me, please, with a little
jelly, thank you."
As she held out her plate to me, I caught a glimpse of her arm, the
pretty contours of which disappeared in the lace.
"What are you looking up my sleeve for instead of eating?"
"I am looking at your arm, dear. You are exquisitely pretty to-night;
do you know it? Your hair is wonderfully becoming, and that gown--I
had never seen that gown before."
"_Dame!_ When a person starts out to make a conquest!"
"You are adorable!"
"Are you quite sure that I am adorable to-night, charming,
ravishing?" Then, looking at her bracelet attentively, "In that case
I don't see why--I don't see--"
"What is it that you don't see, dear?"
"I don't see why you don't come and kiss me."
And as the kiss was prolonged, she threw her head back, showing the
double row of her pretty white teeth, exclaiming between her peals of
laughter,--
"Give me some more _pâté_! I want some more _pâté_! Take care! You
are going to break my Bohemian glass, the fruit of my economy! There
is always some disaster when you try to kiss me. You remember at
Madame de Brill's ball, two nights before we were married, how you
tore my gown while we were waltzing in the little parlor?"
"Well, but it is very difficult to do two things at once,--keep time
with the music and kiss your partner."
"I remember when mamma asked me how I tore my gown, I felt that I was
blushing up to the roots of my hair. And Madame D., that old yellow
witch, said to me with her lenten smile, 'What a brilliant color
you have to-night, my child!' I could have choked her! I said I had
caught my gown on a nail in the door. I was watching you out of the
corner of my eye. You were twirling your mustache, and you seemed
quite vexed. You keep all the truffles for yourself,--how nice of
you! Not that one; I want that big black one there,--in the corner.
Well, after all, it was none the less very wrong, because--no, no,
don't fill my glass; I don't want to get tipsy--because if we had not
married (that might have happened, you know; they say that marriages
hang by a thread), well, if the thread had not been strong enough,
here I was left with that kiss on my shoulder,--a pretty plight!"
"Nonsense! It does not stain."
"Yes, sir, it does; I beg your pardon, but it does stain, and so much
so that there are husbands, I am told, who spill their blood to wash
out those little stains."
"I was only jesting, dear. Heavens! I should think it did! Fancy!
Why--"
"Ah, I am glad to hear you say so. I like to see you get angry. You
are just a wee bit jealous, tell me, are you not? Well, upon my word!
I asked you for the big black one, and you are quietly eating it!"
"I am very sorry, my love; I beg your pardon. I forgot all about it."
"Yes, just as you did when we were being married. I was obliged to
touch your elbow to make you answer yes to Monsieur the Mayor's kind
words!"
"Kind words?"
"Yes, kind words. I thought the mayor was charming. No one could have
been more happy than he was in addressing me. 'Mademoiselle, do you
consent to take this great big ugly little man who stands beside you
for your lawful--' [Laughing with her mouth full.] I was about to say
to him, 'Let us understand each other, Monsieur; there is much to
be said for and against.' Heavens! I am choking! [Bursts into great
peals of laughter.] I was wrong in not making some restrictions.
There! I am teasing you, and that is stupid. I said yes with my whole
heart, I assure you, my darling, and the word was only too weak. When
I think that all women, even the bad ones, use that same word, I feel
ashamed of not having invented a better one. [Holding up her glass.]
Here is to our golden wedding!"
"And here is to his christening, little mother!"