"I tried the most subtle reasoning on Antinea," he continued. "It was
breath wasted. 'But,' I said at the end of my arguments, 'why not Le
Mesge?' She began to laugh. 'Why not the Reverend Spardek?' she
replied. 'Le Mesge and Spardek are savants whom I respect. But
_Maudit soit à jamais rêveur inutile,
Qui voulut, le premier, dans sa stupidité,
S'éprenant d'un problème insoluble et stérile,
Aux choses de l'amour mêler l'honnêteté._
"'Besides,' she added with that really very charming smile of hers,
'probably you have not looked carefully at either of them.' There
followed several compliments on my figure, to which I found nothing to
reply, so completely had she disarmed me by those four lines from
Baudelaire.
"She condescended to explain further: 'Le Mesge is a learned gentleman
whom I find useful. He knows Spanish and Italian, keeps my papers in
order, and is busy working out my genealogy. The Reverend Spardek
knows English and German. Count Bielowsky is thoroughly conversant
with the Slavic languages. Besides, I love him like a father. He knew
me as a child when I had not dreamed such stupid things as you know
of me. They are indispensable to me in my relations with visitors of
different races, although I am beginning to get along well enough in
the languages which I need.... But I am talking a great deal, and this
is the first time that I have ever explained my conduct. Your friend
is not so curious.' With that, she dismissed me. A strange woman
indeed. I think there is a bit of Renan in her but she is cleverer
than that master of sensualism."
"Gentlemen," said Le Mesge, suddenly entering the room, "why are you
so late? They are waiting dinner for you."
The little Professor was in a particularly good humor that evening. He
wore a new violet rosette.
"Well?" he said, in a mocking tone, "you have seen her?"
Neither Morhange nor I replied.
The Reverend Spardek and the Hetmari of Jitomir already had begun
eating when we arrived. The setting sun threw raspberry lights on the
cream-colored mat.
"Be seated, gentlemen," said Le Mesge noisily. "Lieutenant de
Saint-Avit, you were not with us last evening. You are about to taste
the cooking of Koukou, our Bambara chef, for the first time. You must
give me your opinion of it."
A Negro waiter set before me a superb fish covered with a pimento
sauce as red as tomatoes.
I have explained that I was ravenously hungry. The dish was exquisite.
The sauce immediately made me thirsty.
"White Ahaggar, 1879," the Herman of Jitomir breathed in my ear as he
filled my goblet with a clear topaz liquid. "I developed it myself:
_rien pour la tête, tout pour les jambes_."