Neuve-Saint-Augustin: a handsome house, handsome hall, handsome
apartments; a servant to announce the guests; all the externals which
indicate opulence. I entered a very spacious salon, in which there were
already many people, and passed rapidly through a throng of unfamiliar
faces. Monsieur Sordeville left a group of men, with whom he was
talking, to come to meet me and shake hands as if we were old friends. I
could not help laughing inwardly at the prodigious expenditure of
handshakings in society, among people who know one another as little as
Monsieur Sordeville and myself, and often are not at all fond of one
another. 'Tis a pity; it would be so pleasant to have one's hand shaken,
if it were to be depended upon as an assurance of affection and good
will. But men have spoiled everything, and the most expressive words
and gestures mean nothing now, because they have been so abused.
Monsieur Sordeville, still holding my hand and pressing it, took me to
his wife.
"My dear," he said, "here is Monsieur Rochebrune, who has been good
enough to accept our invitation."
The charming Armantine wore a fascinating gown, with infinite grace and
coquetry. I did not recognize in her the unconstraint of my partner at
Mademoiselle Guillardin's wedding party,--to-day she was a true
_petite-maitresse_, a little affected, and a little ceremonious too. But
she was a very seductive woman still. Moreover, it was natural enough
that in her own house she should be more punctilious in her manners than
at a wedding ball. Doubtless it seemed to her becoming to assume a more
dignified bearing to receive her guests; a hostess is a different person
from a guest at a party, who has not to play a leading part.
It was too bad! she was so attractive at the ball! she laughed so
readily, and seemed to invite one to laugh with her. However, she did
the honors of her salon very gracefully; she welcomed me with an affable
smile, and thanked me as her husband had done for remembering their
invitation. I cannot say what answer I made; my eyes must have said more
than my mouth. I tried to detect in her eyes an expression that would at
least tell me that she understood me, that she guessed my meaning; but I
saw only that gracious smile with which she received the homage of all
the men who came up to salute her.
A person is always awkward and embarrassed in a company to which he is
an entire stranger, and where he can find no familiar face. I walked
away from Madame Sordeville, as it was impossible for me to stand
staring at her; that would have made me look like a fool, and would not
have advanced my interests at all. With women whom one is anxious to
please, one should, above all things, avoid looking like a fool; to be
sure, that does not always depend on one's self.
I looked about for Madame Dauberny; I looked forward to meeting her
there, because she had seemed to me to be very intimate with the
mistress of the house. I did not see her. Men were in a large majority;
why were there so few women, and, above all, so few pretty ones? Was it
intentional on the part of the hostess? Surely she was pretty enough to
fear no rivalry!
The guests were chatting together in groups in different parts of the
salon. There was a piano, but thus far there had been no suggestion of
music. I walked into another room, where two whist tables were in
operation. There were fewer people there. If she should come into that
room, I could talk more freely with her. But she was too busily engaged
in receiving her guests and listening to the compliments they paid her;
she seemed to me to be a great flirt. It has frequently been said that
all women are--the desire to please is so natural! As if men were not
flirts, too! Everybody wishes to produce an impression: the ugly man
seeks to please by his wit; this one by his magnificence, another by his
generosity, another by his attentions, his servility, his flatteries;
but the end is always the same. So, let us not blame women for being
coquettish; nature, when endowing them with beauty, grace, and charm,
seems to have taught them what use they could make of these advantages.
But the one person that I cannot endure is a capricious woman; is there
anything more insufferable than to be greeted coldly or sulkily, when
you do not know the reason and have done nothing to deserve it?
Certainly I had no right to complain of Madame Sordeville; still, after
her friendly treatment of me at the wedding party, after the sort of
intimacy which the disclosure of my secret had at once established
between us, I had flattered myself that she would receive me less
ceremoniously. But I must wait and see.
Monsieur Sordeville came to me and asked me if I cared for whist.
"I like all games," I replied.
An old gentleman, who closed his eyes when he spoke, as if he were going
to sleep, joined us; I had no idea what he said, for the fascinating
Armantine entered the room where we were, and I followed her with my
eyes. A handsome young man with light hair was walking behind her,
talking to her in an undertone--at least, so it seemed to me; the pretty
creature laughed heartily, with divers little gestures and expressions
that would have brought a regiment to terms. I was annoyed; it was
unreasonable of me, perhaps, but I could not bear to have her listen so
to that fellow; I was strongly tempted to join in their conversation.
But it was impossible; the man who talked with his eyes closed was
telling me things that must have been very interesting, judging from the
way he emphasized every syllable. Mon Dieu! what tiresome people there
are in the world! But, among the various species, the most insufferable,
in my opinion, is the man who never stops talking, who joins the story
he tells you on to another one, which in turn becomes entangled in a
third, after the style of the _Thousand and One Nights_; so that he is
quite capable of keeping you a whole evening in a corner of the salon,
without ever giving you a chance of escape, unless you decide boldly to
break away from him in the middle of one of his tales.
I have no idea how my conversation with those two gentlemen veered
around to politics, of which I have a perfect horror. I discovered to my
surprise that Monsieur Sordeville was in government employ and already
hinted at opposition. But it did not interest me. I was tempted to close
my eyes, like the old gentleman; then I should be more at liberty to
think of something else. Luckily, someone began to play on the piano,
and gave me an excuse for leaving my politicians.
I returned to the salon, and approached the mistress of the house,
intending to say something agreeable to her. But I did not know how to
begin the conversation, and I finally asked her if she were going to
sing.
"No, I don't sing; but I am ready to play an accompaniment, if anybody
wants me to."
"Do you play the piano?"
"Yes, monsieur; and you?"
"A little."
"Do you sing?"
"Only at home, when I am alone."
"Ha! ha! that's selfishness."
"Prudence, rather."
"Surely you will depart from your habit this evening, and sing in
company?"
"Oh, no! I should not dare to, before you."
"Why so? do I frighten you?"
"You do something very different."
She smiled, as she smiled at the ball. Ah! how sweet she was at that
moment!
But somebody spoke to her, and I was separated from her again. Someone
was going to sing, and silence was requested; I took a seat behind two
consummately ugly women, who would not distract my thoughts.
The singer was a man, a stout, square-shouldered young man, who struck
an attitude like Monsieur Keller as Hercules. I expected a voice that
would make our ears ring and the windows rattle; surely nothing
different could come from that colossus. In truth, at the first note
everybody shuddered. What a voice! indeed, I doubt if it could be called
a voice. For my part, I could think of nothing but the roaring of a
bull. But there were some people who thought it magnificent. He sang an
aria from _Robert le Diable_. The two ladies in front of me emitted
_ohs!_ and _ahs!_ which led me to believe that they agreed with me and
that the performance deafened them; especially as the singer, not
content with bursting our ear drums, was almost invariably off the
pitch; he sang false with imperturbable assurance. There were moments
when he put forth such a volume of voice that I wondered if people
passing through the street would not think that a crime was being
committed in the house.
At last the performance came to an end. The two ladies turned toward me
with smiling faces, and I could not help saying:
"I prefer an orchestra with four drums. I don't know yet whether I have
any ears left; I believe they are split."
The words were hardly out of my mouth, when the bulky singer walked
across the salon and halted directly in front of the two ladies.
"I am not in good voice this evening," he said; "it seemed as if my
notes wouldn't come out. What did you think, mother?"
"Why, my dear, you sang beautifully, I assure you."
"Yes, brother; you sang very well, and you made a great impression. You
can depend on us; we know what we are talking about, you see. There are
people who set up for judges of music, but who don't understand the
first thing about it. So much the worse for them! You sang with perfect
taste, and I am sure that you made many people envious of you!"
I had addressed my criticisms judiciously! the ladies in front of me
were the singer's mother and sister! So the _ohs!_ and _ahs!_ indicated
admiration, and I must needs tell them that I preferred to listen to
drums! An additional proof that we should be careful what we say when
we do not know the person to whom we are speaking.
I saw that the singer's sister was casting withering glances in my
direction, so I decided to walk away and take up my position on the
other side of the salon. I had made two enemies; another time I would be
more prudent.
After the roaring of our friend, the audience required something soft to
soothe its auditory nerves. A lady seated herself at the piano and sang
an air with an abundance of trills and roulades. What a misfortune to
think of singing in public when one has a shrill, squeaky voice! But I
determined to make no comments this time, or express an opinion in any
form of words. A young man behind me was not so scrupulous.
"They call that singing with a lemon on the key-board," he muttered.
"If this sort of thing goes on," I thought, "it certainly can't be for
the music that people come to Monsieur Sordeville's."
But the hostess made us some amends by executing with much dash and
brilliancy a theme with variations which had the merit of not being too
long. Next, the fair-haired youth whom I had seen talking with Armantine
sang several ballads. He had a pleasant voice and sang with good taste.
That added to my vexation, for I was convinced that he was paying court
to her. But I did him the justice to admit that he sang well.
While a duet for piano and violin was being performed, I went into
another room; I confess that I was not enjoying myself. The hostess was
so surrounded by courtiers and adorers that it was impossible to talk
with her an instant. Indeed, she made no effort to give me an
opportunity. Ah! how different from the night of the wedding ball! There
were times when I fancied that she was not the same woman.
I sat down at a baccarat table which had just been made up. I was well
pleased to play cards, for I have always considered it the best of all
ways to entertain people in society.
I had been playing for some little time, when, happening to turn my
head, I saw Madame Frederique. Never did a meeting afford me greater
pleasure. She smiled at me, and said:
"Good-evening! Are you in luck?"
"Not thus far."
"Will you give me an interest in your play? I will bring you luck."
"With pleasure!"
"Here is my stake."
She tossed me a purse filled with napoleons, and turned away without
giving me time to ask her how much she wanted to bet. Strange woman!
But, at all events, she was just the same as she was the other evening;
she was not like her friend.
My partnership seemed to bring me luck in very truth; for the vein
changed, and I won. I looked about for my partner, to ask her if she
wished to go on, but I did not see her; so I continued to play, and won
again. I dared not stop then; but the game was interrupted when tea was
served. I saw Monsieur Archibald, Monsieur Guillardin's son, a few steps
away, and bowed to him; he returned the bow, but very coldly, as if he
did not care to renew the acquaintance. He need have had no fear, I was
nowise inclined to strike up an intimacy with him; I remembered the way
he looked at me on the night of his sister's wedding. I fancied that he
looked upon me as a rival aspirant for Madame Dauberny's favor. How many
false conjectures are constantly made in society!
Certainly I had had very little entertainment in that house. Madame
Sordeville laughed and talked with everybody but me. I was evidently
mistaken the other evening, when I thought that she looked kindly upon
me, that she felt drawn toward me.
"Oh! these women!" I thought; "one never knows what to depend upon with
them! But, yes, there is one thing that one can depend upon; I do not
deem it necessary to name it."
I was strongly inclined to go away; but I must first settle my account
with my partner, and Madame Dauberny was at that moment deep in
conversation with a gentleman possessed of a superb pair of red
moustaches, and chin whiskers of the same hue. He was talking with much
animation; and I am very much mistaken if he was not making a
declaration of love to Madame Frederique.
You will say that I am prone to discover love intrigues everywhere. The
fact is that they are the commonest things in the world. And if we see
many of them, you may be sure that there are many more of which we have
no suspicion. Madame Frederique was listening to her companion as if he
were telling her the story of Telemachus. I determined to wait until
they had finished. I sat down in a corner of the salon, and pretended to
listen to a man who had been drumming on the piano for a long time,
without anyone being able to tell what he was playing. Luckily for him,
nobody seemed to be paying any attention to him.
In the midst of that assemblage of persons, almost all of whom were
unknown to me, I had a feeling of emptiness, of melancholy, which did
not surprise me at all. There was no one there who cared anything for
me! Why should I care for them? I had come there on account of a woman
who had fascinated me, whom I already loved, whom I would have adored;
but her cold greeting, and her coquetry with all of her male guests, had
forced back into the depths of my heart the sentiments she had inspired.
I was vexed that I had fallen in love with her; I determined to think no
more about her. Balloquet was more fortunate than I: he never took love
seriously; he made an acquaintance as he ordered a coat; when the coat
ceased to please him, he tossed it aside, often before it was worn out.
He was right; that is the only sure way of being always well dressed.
For my part, I have always had a deep-rooted feeling for the women who
have been my mistresses. I do not refer to those I have known for a few
days only; I do not call them mistresses. You will find it hard to
believe that a man loves sincerely, when he confesses that he has had
several mistresses at the same time. But are you familiar with the
workings of the human heart? Nature has eccentricities and secrets which
we shall never know.
It is probable that my reflections had not given a cheerful cast to my
expression; they absorbed me so completely that I did not notice the
superb Frederique, who had stopped in front of me and finally said to me
in a mocking tone:
"Mon Dieu! how you seem to be enjoying yourself, Monsieur Rochebrune!"
"Enjoying myself! No, indeed! and but for you, I should have gone away
long ago. We won twenty-eight napoleons, and I have put your share in
your purse; here it is, madame."
"That is first-rate! I brought you luck, you see."
"True; but that's all the luck I have had to-night."
"I understand! Poor boy! somebody has not treated him as he had hoped."
I contented myself with a slight movement of the head.
"I am tempted to afford you a little diversion," continued Frederique.
"Will you come and take supper with me?"
I looked up at Madame Dauberny. She saw that I took her suggestion for
a joke, and she instantly added:
"What is there so extraordinary in that? I am in the habit of having
supper every night; I invite you to join me, and, if you accept, I shall
invite another gentleman, who has just made me a most grotesque
declaration of love; but he's a Prussian, and hasn't perfect command of
our language."
"Is it the gentleman with red moustaches?"
"Just so; Baron von Brunzbrack. There's a name for you! I have fairly
turned his head, but I give you my word that I did it unintentionally.
Come, what do you say--do you accept?"
"With great pleasure; but, if I remember rightly, the night that I had
the good fortune to make your acquaintance, you denied me the favor of
calling on you."
"That is quite possible; you see, that night, I thought for a moment
that you proposed to make love to me. I was an idiot! You are in love
with Armantine only; and as you have discovered to-night that many
others besides yourself are in love with her, you are melancholy,
ill-humored, desperate. Ha! ha! I have guessed the truth, haven't I?
Come, monsieur, give me your hand; by taking you away, I advance your
interests much more than you do with your languishing airs; all women
are jealous of their conquests, and Armantine will think that I am
trying to steal one of hers. You will be the cause of a dispute between
us, but it will be only a cloud which the slightest breeze will blow
away."
The hope of causing Madame Sordeville some chagrin made me radiant. I
gladly took the hand that was offered me. A large part of the company
had already disappeared. Madame Dauberny said a word in the ear of the
Prussian baron, who was standing like a sentinel in the middle of the
salon. That word produced a magical effect: Herr von Brunzbrack jumped
back and landed on the feet of the gentleman who talked with his eyes
closed; he opened them very wide now, however, exclaiming:
"Take care, monsieur! you've lamed me for life! What on earth is the
matter with you?"
Herr von Brunzbrack was profuse in his apologies; but at that moment he
was so transported by the invitation he had received from Madame
Dauberny, that, while he was apologizing, he trod on the dress of a lady
who stood beside him, then overturned a chair, and, as he stooped to
pick it up, caught his coat buttons in the lace-trimmed cloak of a lady
who had just put it on to go home. The poor Prussian lost his head; he
did not know where he was; he dared not take a step forward or back.
Frederique extricated him from his plight by taking his arm and leading
him away.
"Come, baron, come," she said; "we are waiting for you!"
We three left the salon; I cast a glance at Madame Sordeville, who
seemed thunderstruck to see me go away with Madame Dauberny, who had
sent the baron on ahead and had taken my arm with the greatest
familiarity.
I felt a thrill of joy and satisfaction, which fully compensated me for
all the tedium of the evening. Frederique was right; by taking me away
with her, she had served my passion more effectually than I had done by
all the ardent glances I had bestowed upon the seductive Armantine.
Women are never mistaken as to what it is necessary to do to make sure
that the arrow reaches its mark.
XVIII
BARON VON BRUNZBRACK
The baron's carriage, which was at the door, conveyed us in a very short
time to Madame Dauberny's, on Boulevard Montmartre.
On the way we said little; the baron was still dazed by the gaucheries
he had committed and his joy at being invited to sup with the fair
Frederique; and, besides, I fancy that my presence embarrassed him; he
did not know upon what footing I stood with the lady, but he saw that I
too was to sup with her, and I think that that fact kept his mind busy.
Our singular hostess also seemed to be in a contemplative mood, and I
was thinking of the glance Madame Sordeville bestowed upon me when I
left her salon.
But Madame Dauberny resumed her playful mood as soon as we reached her
house, and devoted herself to the duties of a hostess. I was very
certain that we should not meet her husband; I had a secret conviction
that he never attended her little supper parties.
"Three covers," said Frederique to a servant who was in the reception
room. "And a good fire, for there's no satisfaction in eating when one
is cold. Is there a fire in the salon?"
"No, madame; but there is one in your room."
"Very well! let us go to my room, then, messieurs; you will allow me to
receive you in my bedroom, will you not? At one o'clock in the morning,
we may snap our fingers at etiquette."
"Ah, madame!" I said, bowing low; "it is a great favor, for which we
thank you."
"Ah, montame!" said the baron, in his turn, with a still lower bow; "id
vould pe fery bretty in any room mit you."
Without listening to our thanks, Madame Dauberny had already left the
room before us. A lady's-maid carried a light. We arrived in the bed
chamber of the lady whom Monsieur Archibald called a _gaillarde_. It was
a delicious spot, furniture and draperies being in the most perfect
taste; an alabaster globe hanging from the ceiling cast a soft light
upon everything. Quantities of flowers, in lovely Chinese vases, filled
the air with an intoxicating perfume. It was the retreat of a
_petite-maitresse_; there was nothing there to suggest a _gaillarde_. I
expected to find foils, pipes, and statuettes; I found nothing but
flowers, and inhaled nothing but perfumes.
We were hardly ushered into her room when the charming Frederique left
us, saying:
"Messieurs, I crave your permission to go and make myself comfortable."
I was left alone with the Prussian baron; I examined him more closely,
while he gazed amorously at the bed which stood at one end of the room.
Herr von Brunzbrack seemed to be about forty years of age; he was tall
and well built and powerful--a man of the type of those from whom
Frederick the Great recruited a regiment of grenadiers. His blond
coloring was a little too pronounced, although his hair, cut in military
fashion, was less red than his moustaches; he had great blue eyes on a
level with his face, which were always wide open, and which had not an
intelligent expression; but, on the other hand, there was frankness in
them, and a kindliness that soon gave place to wrath if anybody seemed
inclined to make sport of him. Taken as a whole, Herr von Brunzbrack had
what is conventionally called a "good face." He laughed very readily,
opening a cavernous mouth; but he resumed his seriousness so suddenly
that one was surprised to have heard him laugh.
As he spoke French with difficulty, he deemed it advisable to accompany
his words with a pantomime which he considered most expressive, I doubt
not, but which was often more grotesque than intelligible.
I do not know whether he was taking the trouble to draw my portrait at
the same time, but I noticed that he glanced at me now and then out of
the corner of his eye.
I tried to converse with him.
"This chamber is decorated with exquisite taste!"
"Ja! te shamber pe fery bretty."
"This cabinet is full of curious and well-selected objects."
"Ja! tere's a lot of leedle chems--for shildren."
"But the ladies like them, too."
"Oh, ja! te ladies haf shildren for blaytings."
"But I don't think that Madame Dauberny has any children."
"Oh, ja! all apoud--and on te mandel, too."
I did not understand him. I looked at the flowers in the vases, and
said:
"There's nothing prettier and more ornamental than flowers! What a pity
that they are perfect poison in a bedroom!"
The baron opened his eyes even wider than usual, and looked all about; I
am not sure that he did not stoop to look under the bed. Then he
rejoined:
"I see no _poisson_ [fish] in te room."
Luckily, Madame Dauberny's return put an end to this interview, in which
I found little amusement.
At sight of Frederique, a cry of admiration escaped the baron and
myself. She had put on an ample robe de chambre, of blue cashmere,
caught in at the waist by a girdle of orange silk. The gown was buttoned
to the neck, about which was a narrow white silk cravat, carelessly
tied. Her feet were encased in fascinating orange slippers, studded with
steel beads. Lastly, on her hair, which she had arranged in haste, in a
_bandeau_ on one side, and on the other in long curls, she had placed a
small blue velvet toque, with an enormous silver tassel, which hung down
on the same side as the curls and seemed to intensify their brilliancy.
It is impossible to describe the charm which that neglige costume
imparted to its wearer. Her figure was so gracefully outlined by the
folds of the cashmere, her unique headdress gave so much expression to
her features, that the baron and I remained under the spell and could
not tire of gazing at her.