Then he was relieved of his hat, which he wished to hang up, and he
began immediately to draw off his gloves.
They sat down and looked at one another across the table, and no one
said anything more until Cachelin asked: "Did the chief remain late
to-night? I left very early to help the ladies."
Lesable replied in a careless tone: "No, we went away together, because
we were obliged to discuss the matter of the payment for the canvasses at
Brest. It is a very complicated affair, which will give us a great deal of
trouble."
Cachelin believed he ought to bring his sister into the conversation,
and turning to her said: "It is M. Lesable who decides all the difficult
questions at the office. One might say that he was the deputy chief."
The old spinster bowed politely, saying: "Oh, I know that Monsieur has
great capabilities."
The maid entered, pushing open the door with her knee, and holding aloft
with both hands a great soup tureen. Then the master of the house cried:
"Come--dinner! Sit there, M. Lesable, between my sister and my daughter. I
hope you are not afraid of the ladies," and the dinner began.
Lesable made himself agreeable, with a little air of self-sufficiency,
almost of condescension, and he glanced now and then at the young girl,
astonished at her freshness, at her beautiful, appetising health. Mlle
Charlotte showed her best side, knowing the intentions of her brother, and
she took part in the conversation so long as it was confined to
commonplace topics. Cachelin was radiant; he talked and joked in a loud
voice while he poured out the wine bought an hour previous at the store on
the corner: "A glass of this little Burgundy, M. Lesable. I do not say
that it is anything remarkable, but it is good; it is from the cellar and
it is pure--I can say that much. We get it from some friends down
there."
The young girl said nothing; a little red, a little shy, she was awed by
the presence of this man, whose thoughts she suspected.
When the lobster appeared, César declared: "Here comes a personage whose
acquaintance I shall be glad to make."
Lesable, smiling, told a story of a writer who had called the lobster
"the cardinal of the seas," not knowing that before being cooked the
animal was a dark greenish black. Cachelin laughed with all his might,
repeating: "Ha, ha, ha! that is first rate!" But Mlle Charlotte, becoming
serious, said sharply:
"I do not see anything amusing in that. That gentleman was an improper
person. I understand all kinds of pleasantries, but I am opposed to
anything which casts ridicule on the clergy in my presence."
The young man, who wished to please the old maid, profited by this
occasion to make a profession of the Catholic faith. He spoke of the bad
taste of those who treated great truths with lightness. And in conclusion
he said: "For myself I respect and venerate the religion of my fathers; I
have been brought up in it, and I will remain in it till my death."
Cachelin laughed no longer. He rolled little crumbs of bread between
his finger and thumb while he murmured: "That's right, that's right."
Then he changed the conversation, and, with an impulse natural to those
who follow the same routine every day, he said: "Our handsome Maze--must
have been furious at not having been promoted?"
Lesable smiled. "Well, why not? To everyone according to his deserts."
And they continued talking about the ministry, which interested everybody,
for the two women knew the employees almost as well as Cachelin himself,
through hearing them spoken of every day.
Mlle Charlotte was particularly pleased to hear about Boissel, on
account of his romantic spirit, and the adventures he was always telling
about, while Cora was secretly interested in the handsome Maze. They had
never seen either of the men, however.
Lesable talked about them with a superior air, as a minister might have
done in speaking of his staff.
"Maze is not lacking in a certain kind of merit, but when one wishes
to accomplish anything it is necessary to work harder than he does. He is
fond of society and of pleasure. All that distracts the mind; he will
never advance much on this account. He will be an Assistant Secretary,
perhaps, thanks to the influence he commands, but nothing more. As for
Pitolet, he is a good clerk, I must say. He has a superficial elegance
which cannot be gainsaid, but nothing deep. There is a young man whom one
could never put at the head of an important bureau, but who can always be
utilised by an intelligent chief who would lay out his work for him."
"And M. Boissel?" asked Mlle Charlotte.
Lesable shrugged his shoulders: "A poor chap, a poor chap. He can see
nothing in its proper proportions, and is continually imagining wonderful
stories while half asleep. To us he is of no earthly use."
Cachelin began to laugh. "But the best of all," he declared, "is old
father Savon."
Then everybody laughed.
After that they talked of the theatres and the different plays of the
year. Lesable judged the dramatic literature of the day with the same
authority, concisely classifying the authors, determining the strength
and weakness of each, with the assurance of a man who believes himself to
be infallible and universal.
They had finished the roast. César now uncovered the pot of _foie
gras_ with the most delicate precautions, which made one imagine the
contents to be something wonderful. He said: "I do not know if this one
will be a success, but generally they are perfect. We get them from a
cousin who lives in Strasburg."
With respectful deliberation each one ate the butcher's _pâté_ in its
little yellow pot.
But disaster came with the ice. It was a sauce, a soup, a clear liquid
which floated in the dish. The little maid had begged the pastry cook's
boy, who brought the ice at seven o'clock, to take it out of the mold
himself, fearing that she would not know how.
Cachelin, in despair, wished to make her carry it back again; then he
calmed himself at the thought of the Twelfth Night cake, which he divided
with great mystery as though it contained a prime secret. All fixed their
gaze on the symbolic cake, then Mlle Charlotte directed that each one
close his eyes while taking a piece.
Who would be the king? A childish, expectant smile was on the lips of
everyone. M. Lesable uttered a little "ah" of astonishment, and showed
between his thumb and forefinger a great white bean still covered with
pastry. Cachelin began to applaud, then cried: "Choose the queen! choose
the queen!"
The king hesitated an instant only. Would it not be a politic act to
choose Mlle Charlotte? She would be flattered, brought over, his friend
ever after! Then he reflected that it was really Mlle Cora for whom he had
been invited, and that he would seem like a ninny in choosing the aunt. He
turned toward his youthful neighbor, and handing her the royal bean said:
"Mademoiselle, will you permit me to offer it to you?" And they looked
one another in the face for the first time.
She replied: "Thank you. Monsieur," and received the gage of
sovereignty.
He thought: "She is enormously pretty, this girl. Her eyes are superb.
She is gay, too, if I am not mistaken!"
A sharp detonation made the two women jump. Cachelin had just opened
the champagne, which escaped from the bottle and ran over the table-cloth.
Then the glasses were filled with the frothy stuff and the host declared:
"It is of good quality, one can see that." But as Lesable was about to
drink to prevent his glass from running over, César cried: "The king
drinks! the king drinks! the king drinks!" And Mlle Charlotte, also
excited, squeaked in her thin voice: "The king drinks! the king drinks!"
Lesable emptied his glass with composure, and replacing it on the table
said: "You see I am not lacking in assurance." Then turning toward Mlle
Cora he said: "It is yours, Mademoiselle!"
She wished to drink, but everybody having cried: "The queen drinks!
the queen drinks!" she blushed, began to laugh, and put the glass down
again.
The end of the dinner was full of gaiety; the king showed himself most
attentive and gallant toward the queen. Then when they had finished the
liqueurs, Cachelin announced:
"We will have the table cleared away now to give us more room. If it is
not raining, we can go to the balcony for a few minutes." He wanted
Lesable to see the view, although it was night.
The glass door was thrown open. A moist, warm breeze entered. It was
mild outdoors as in the month of April. They all mounted the step which
separated the dining-room from the large balcony. They could see nothing
but a vague glimmer hovering over the great city, like the gilt halos
which they put on the heads of the saints. In some spots this light seemed
more brilliant, and Cachelin began to explain:
"See, that is the Eden blazing down there. Look at the line of the
boulevards. Isn't it wonderful, how you can distinguish them! In the
daytime it is splendid, this view. You would have to travel a
long way before you saw anything finer!"
Lesable was leaning on the iron balustrade, by the side of Cora, who
gazed into the void, silent, distraught, seized of a sudden with one of
those melancholy languors which sometimes oppress the soul. Mlle Charlotte
returned to the room, fearing the damp. Cachelin continued to speak, his
outstretched hand indicating the places where they would find the
Invalides, the Trocadéro, the Arc de Triomphe.
Lesable in a low voice asked: "And you, Mlle Cora, do you like to look
at Paris from this height?"
She gave a little shiver, as though she had been dreaming and answered:
"I? Yes, especially at night. I think of all the things which are
happening there in front of us. How many happy people and how many who
are unhappy in all these houses! If one could see everything, how many
things one might learn!"
He came a little nearer, until their elbows and their shoulders touched:
"By moonlight this should be like fairyland."
She murmured: "Ah, yes, indeed. One would say it was an engraving by
Gustave Doré. What a pleasure it would be to take a long walk on these
roofs."
Then he questioned her regarding her tastes, her dreams, her pleasures.
And she replied without embarrassment, after the manner of an intelligent,
sensible girl--one who was not more imaginative than was necessary.
He found her full of good sense, and he said to himself that it would be
wonderfully sweet to put his arm about that firm, round figure, and to
press a score of little slow kisses, as one drinks in little sips of
excellent brandy, on that fresh cheek, near the ear, just where a ray from
the lamp fell upon it. He felt himself attracted, moved by the sensation
of the proximity of a beautiful woman, by the thirst for her ripe and
virginal flesh and by that delicate seductive influence a young girl
possesses. It seemed to him he could remain there for hours, nights,
weeks, forever, leaning towards her, feeling her near to him, thrilled
by the charm of that contact. And something like a poetic sentiment
stirred his heart in the face of that great Paris, spread out before him,
brilliant in her nocturnal life, her life of pleasure and debauchery. It
seemed to him that he dominated the enormous city, that he hovered over
it; and he thought how delicious it would be to recline every evening on
such a balcony beside a woman, to love her and be loved by her, to press
her to his breast, far above the vast city, and all the earthly loves it
contained, above all the vulgar satisfactions and common desires, near to
the stars.
There are nights when even the least exalted souls begin to dream, and
Lesable felt as though he were spreading his wings for the first time.
Perhaps he was a little tipsy.
Cachelin went inside to get his pipe, and came back lighting it. "I
know," he said, "that you do not smoke or I would offer you a cigarette.
There is nothing more delightful than to smoke here. If I had to live on
the ground floor I should die. We could do it if we wanted to, for the
house belongs to my sister, as well as the two neighbouring ones--the
one on the right and the one on the left. She has a nice little revenue
from these alone. They did not cost a great deal, either, when she bought
them." And turning toward the window he cried: "How much did you pay for
the ground here, Charlotte?"
Then the thin voice of the old spinster was heard speaking. Lesable
could only hear broken fragments of the sentences: "In eighteen hundred
and sixty-three--thirty-five francs--built afterward--the three houses--a
banker--sold for at least five hundred thousand francs--"
She talked of her fortune with the complacency of an old soldier who
reels off stories of his campaigns. She enumerated her purchases, the high
offers she had since had, the rise in values, etc.
Lesable, immediately interested, turned about, resting now his back
against the balustrade of the balcony. But as he still caught only
tantalizing scraps of what the old woman said, he brusquely left his young
companion and went within where he might hear everything; and seating
himself beside Mademoiselle Charlotte conversed with her for a long time
on the probable increase in rents and what income should accrue from money
well placed in stocks and bonds. He left toward midnight, promising to
return.
A month later there was nothing talked about in the whole office but
the marriage of Jacques Léopold Lesable with Mademoiselle Céleste Coralie,
Cachelin.