liberty of supping in a robe de chambre."
"Ah! how loafely you pe so!" murmured the baron, passing his right hand
over his face as he spoke, kissing it, and throwing kisses to the
ceiling.
"All right, all right, my dear baron! As I have told you, I can
understand you without pantomime; so you may spare yourself so much
extravagance of gesture.--Let us toast ourselves, messieurs, while we
are waiting for our supper."
As she spoke, Frederique seated herself in a great easy-chair in front
of the fire; we took armchairs and moved them to her side, and in a
moment all three had our feet on the andirons.
"Now," said Frederique, "a few words by way of prologue to our
supper.--You, Baron von Brunzbrack, I have known only two months, having
met you in society; but I know that you are an honorable man. This
evening you made a declaration of love in due form. You think, perhaps,
that it was on that account that I invited you to sup with me. It is my
duty to undeceive you. I do not love you, my dear baron; my heart will
never beat one little bit faster because of you. It was to tell you
that, and, at the same time, to offer you sincere friendship in place of
love, that I asked you to sup with me. I trust that you are content with
my course of action, and that you will show yourself worthy of my
friendship."
The baron rolled his eyes about in most extraordinary fashion; he made
a piteous face; he did not know whether he ought to appear offended or
gratified; he looked down at the floor, heaved a sigh, and was about to
take refuge in pantomime; but Frederique placed her hand on his arm,
saying:
"Sit still, and let me go on. I now present to you Monsieur Charles
Rochebrune; I have known him only five days; he is a more recent
acquaintance than you, but I know whom I am receiving; I know monsieur
as well now as if we had been brought up together. Well, baron, do you
know why I have invited monsieur to share my supper with you? It is
because I know that he has no thought of loving me, of paying court to
me; because his heart is wholly occupied by a very pretty woman, who has
tormented him cruelly this evening, but who will be more amiable another
time, no doubt."
The baron had no sooner heard these details concerning me than his face
beamed with joy. The honest German had probably taken me for a rival,
and a happy rival, I suppose; but as soon as he learned that nothing of
the sort was true, and that I was not in love with Madame Dauberny, he
turned to me and grasped my hand, crying:
"Ah! you not rifal of me. Gif me your hand; ve pe gut frents, ve
untershtand each oder, ve tell each oder all ve haf onto our hearts."
And Herr von Brunzbrack put one of his hands to his breast, shook his
head violently, and stamped on the floor like a horse anxious to leave
the stable. I hastened to give him my hand, which he squeezed until he
hurt me, repeating:
"Ve pe gut frents. Montame, she not bleeze you, hein?"
"We need not go so far, monsieur le baron; I beg you to believe that I
do full justice to madame's wit and grace and abundant charms."
"Oh! enough! enough!" cried Frederique; "you will alarm him. Just tell
him simply that you are not at all in love with me and never expect to
be."
I do not know why I was reluctant to say that; I looked at the graceful
folds of Frederique's gown, and did not reply.
"You see, my dear Herr von Brunzbrack," continued our amiable hostess,
"I thought it best to tell you that Monsieur Rochebrune does not love
me, that his heart is engrossed by another; in short, that you must not
look upon him as a rival, for I saw you glaring at him with your big
eyes, which are very savage when they are not very sweet; and because it
is more agreeable to me to see perfect harmony between my guests. But do
not reason from that, that other men do not make love to me, and that I
do not love anybody. I have told you that you would never be my lover,
so that you have no rights over me; and whenever it pleases me, even in
your presence, to allow myself to be made love to, remember that you
will have no right to say the least little word. Otherwise, it's all
over between us; I withdraw my friendship, and I see you no more."
The baron heaved a sigh that reminded me of the low notes of the stout
singer I had heard that evening. He beat his brow, gazed at the
ceiling, then took my hand and shook it so that he nearly put my
shoulder out of joint.
"Ah! my gut frent," he murmured, "montame can pe fery unkind. I know not
how to say. But, nefer mind, ve must do als she say. But alvays shall I
loafe her; alvays shall I loafe her madly."
"As for that," said Frederique, "you may do as you please; I have no
further concern with it. But I am not at all worried about your future
repose. When a man sees that he cannot retain any hope, he soon ceases
to love."
"Not te Prussian! Nein! nein! te more unhappier he is, te more constant
he is!"
"So much the worse for the Prussian, then; the best thing he can do is
to adopt the French fashion. But we have had enough of love and of
unveiling the secrets of our hearts; you must understand, baron, that
this subject of conversation would soon become monotonous to us all. I
propose that we don't have any more of it at supper."
"Madame is served," said a footman.
"Bravo! Come, messieurs, give me a hand each. I will escort you.
Remember that I command here, and that I must be obeyed."
"Here and everywhere, madame."
"Ja," said the baron, "eferyvere and elsevere."
XIX
THE LITTLE SUPPER PARTY
Frederique led us through a narrow hall, at the end of which we entered
a small room, well carpeted and deliciously warm; in each corner, and
between the windows, were boxes of growing flowers. The apartment was
too elegant for a dining-room, and not enough so for a boudoir. A table
was laid there, with all the luxurious appointments that add so much to
the charm of a repast.
"This, messieurs, is what I call my _Petit Trianon_, or my _petits
appartements_--that is to say, it is the room where I receive my
friends. I need not tell you that my husband is never admitted here. I
believe that you did not come here to see him. We are like the sun and
the moon: we are never seen together unless there is some serious
disturbance in the solar system. As we have agreed that each of us shall
enjoy absolute liberty, we live up to our agreement."
"Ten id is apsoludely as if you haf no husbant, hein? Ha! ha!"
"Oh! it isn't the same thing, by any means.--To table, messieurs!"
We took our places, Frederique between us, of course. Her affable,
unconventional manner instantly put her guests at their ease. The baron
was radiant; he rolled his eyes about, and kept repeating:
"Ich loafe sehr viel your _betit Trille-anon_."
"Flowers everywhere!" I said, glancing at those on the table, and at the
boxes that surrounded us.
"Yes, I adore them; I must always have some about me."
"Birds of a feather flock together."
"Oh! my dear Rochebrune, pray don't put me on a diet of insipid
compliments! I detest them. I prefer the volnay. Come, messieurs, drink!
Do you prefer chambertin--or pomard? You have only to speak."
"I should mit bleazure trink all te drei."
"And you are quite right. Vive variety! It is charming, isn't it,
messieurs?"
"It's very nice, in the matter of wine."
"And in everything else! own up to it, hypocrite!"
"I am too honest to contradict you."
"That's right! Why, see my flowers--how lovely they are! these roses and
camellias and hyacinths and cactuses! Would the bouquet be so pretty, if
I had nothing but roses?"
"Evidently, flowers are your passion."
"Faith! yes; and I believe the only one I have ever had thus far.
Perhaps that is the reason I have been so frivolous, so fickle."
"I vould like to pe a tulib," murmured the baron.
"You choose ill, baron; the tulip has very little charm for me; I care
little for odorless flowers."
"In tat case, I vould like to pe--a beony."
"Ha! ha! ha! you are not happy in your choice of flowers. Well,
messieurs, what did you think of Monsieur Sordeville's reception? Was
the concert good? I arrived very late."
"Faith! that was lucky for your ears; for there were a lady and a
gentleman who put us to a severe test. By the way, a young man, with a
very light complexion, sang some ballads tolerably well. Who was he, I
wonder? He talked a good deal with Madame Sordeville."
"Oh! I know: it was Mondival. He's very good-looking, but a fool; he's
conceited, and I hate conceited men. I prefer them ugly--and clever. I
don't mean that for you, messieurs."
And the fair Frederique laughed aloud. The baron felt called upon to
follow suit. I said nothing, for I was thinking of Armantine. My
neighbor, noticing my serious face, nudged me with her knee.
"Well! he has nothing to say!" she exclaimed. "Have I offended you? But,
no--I said nothing that was meant for you."
"Offended me? How, pray?"
"He doesn't even know what I said! He's thinking of his Armantine; I was
sure of it! Do you love her so much, then--with all your heart, as they
say?"
"Yes--that is to say, I did love her."
"And it's over already, because she played the coquette?"
"She paid no more attention to me than if I had been a perfect
stranger."
"But she hasn't known you so very long! And then, I warn you that she is
extremely capricious."
"Oh! I have noticed that; it's a wretched fault."
"It's common enough among _petites-maitresses_. I am not capricious,
myself; to be sure, I am not a _petite-maitresse_! Pray drink,
messieurs; you lag behind. You're not lusty suppers! Look at me: I'll
set you an example."
Frederique emptied her glass at one swallow. The baron tried to do the
same, but swallowed it the wrong way; he left the table, to cough and
stamp on the floor. The servant brought champagne and malvoisie; the
supper was delicious. I began to feel less melancholy; Madame Dauberny's
example led me on, and I did honor to the good cheer.
The baron, having ceased to cough, resumed his seat; his cheeks were
beginning to turn purple.
"In a moment," said Frederique, "I will dismiss the servant; then we
will put our elbows on the table and talk nonsense."
"Ja! ja! nonzenz, I like to talk nonzenz; und mit unser foot on te
table; tat vill be sehr amusing."
"Not the feet; that would be uncomfortable. I said elbows."
"Ja! te knees."
"Impromptu parties forever! they are the only merry ones. Certainly I
had no idea this morning that I should have you gentlemen to supper this
evening, or rather to-night; and you didn't expect to come here."
"We did not foresee our good fortune."
"Oh! you are stupefying with your compliments, Rochebrune! I like to
believe that you talk differently to the women you love. However, there
are women who like that sort of talk; Armantine doesn't detest
compliments."
"I assure you, madame, that I had no intention of paying you one. But
one can no longer say what one thinks. This supper is a genuine piece of
good fortune, so far as I am concerned: I was depressed, you have
restored my good spirits; I had abandoned all hope, you have renewed it;
in truth, I can't tell you why I feel so happy now! You are willing that
we should say just what we think, are you not?"
"Oh, yes! for I do, myself."
"Well, you have a headdress that does my heart good! If you knew how
becoming it is to you!--Isn't it true, baron, that madame's headdress is
fascinating?"
The baron began by offering me his hand; I had no choice but to take it;
and he began to shake mine, crying:
"You not pe in loafe mit her, nicht wahr? you haf id to me pevore supper
bromised."
I could not help laughing at the baron's anxiety concerning the state of
my heart.
The seductive Frederique shrugged her shoulders slightly, and said with
some show of impatience:
"Why, no, a thousand times no! he doesn't give me a thought! Can't a man
tell a lady that her headdress becomes her, that he likes that style of
headdress, without being in love with her? If you return to that
subject, Monsieur le Prussien, I'll put an end to the session."
"I am dumb."
"Oh! talk, but talk about something else.--_Vivat!_ we are free at
last!"
The servant had left the room, after bringing the dessert. Frederique
filled our glasses, then rose, and rang a bell.
"I forgot the best of all," she said.
The servant returned.
"Bring cigars, cigarettes, pipes, and tobacco, Jean. Hurry!"
The baron uttered something very like an oath of admiration.
"_Sapre tarteff!_" he cried; "are ve going to schmoke? Is id bermitted?"
"I not only permit it, but set the example; not always, by the way, but
to-night we are so snug and cozy, and I am like Rochebrune, I am
satisfied with my supper."
"Ah! do you smoke, madame?"
"Does that surprise you?"
"Nothing surprises me that you do?"
"Really! I don't know whether I ought to take that as a compliment. But
I must, must I not? one should take everything in good part."
"Is it possible that I could dream of criticising you, who have been and
still are so kind to me?"
"Really! you think that I am kind?--Ah! here is what I sent for."
The servant drew a small table near the supper table, and placed on it a
large assortment of pipes, cigars, and several kinds of tobacco. Each of
us chose what he liked best. I supposed that Frederique would confine
herself to cigarettes, but she took a very fine Turkish pipe and filled
it with tobacco from the same country. Then she threw herself back in
her chair, emptied a glass of malvoisie, and smoked with the abandon of
a Mohammedan.
The baron clapped his hands, murmuring:
"Sehr gut! sehr gut! you haf all te qualidies to bleeze."
"Because I smoke? Why, my dear Brunzbrack, many people would call that a
vice."
"Ach, ja! I say tat to you id pe most pecoming; you pe a she-pear----"
"A she-bear! Ha! ha! that can't be what you mean."
"Bardon--how do tey say?--an animal of te desert--te female of te king
of animals."
"A _lionne_ [lioness]; that is what you mean."
"Ja! you be te _lionne a la mode_; id is all te same."
I took a cigar, and the baron an ordinary pipe, and in a moment we were
all smoking for dear life. Herr von Brunzbrack, whom the pipe seemed to
make thirsty, emptied his glass very frequently and belauded the
champagne; for my part, the malvoisie suited my taste exactly; and I had
such an exquisite sense of well-being, seated at that table beside that
original creature, who acted just like a man!
"Messieurs," she said, blowing a cloud of smoke at the ceiling, "life
has some very pleasant moments."
"It is delicious to me just now."
"Id runs ein leedle; but id is gut."
"What's that, baron? your life runs a little?"
"I did not untershtand; I said id of mein bibe."
"Oh, indeed!--It's a pity that we have bad days, that melancholy
thoughts sometimes take possession of us!"
"Melancholy thoughts come only as a result of disappointments of the
heart."
"True, you are right, Rochebrune; that is why your thoughts are so sad
to-night, isn't it? The handsome Mondival distanced you; he had the pole
to-night. Ha! ha! what a way to talk about love! What will you think of
me? that I am a very _mauvais sujet_, eh?"
"We should be too fortunate if that were so!"
"Ach, ja! as mein frent Rochebrune say--if id vas so---- _Sapremann_, id
is running again!"
"Pray take another pipe, baron; there are enough to choose from."
A thought that had come to my mind several times during supper still
absorbed me. I do not know whether Frederique could read it in my eyes,
but, after looking at me a moment, she said:
"What are you thinking about? Come, tell me! It has come to your lips
several times, and you keep it back. Is it something very unkind, pray,
that you are afraid to say it?"
"No; it's a very natural reflection, but one that I have no right to
make, perhaps."
"But you seem to have taken the liberty to make it. I don't like the
things one keeps back; they are more dangerous."
"Your gut healt', montame, and te bleazure id gif me to schmoke tis bibe
in your company."
"Thanks, baron, thanks!"
"Vill you trink mit me?"
"Certainly I will."
While she honored Brunzbrack's toast, Frederique kept her eyes on me,
and they peremptorily bade me to speak.
"Well, madame," I began, hesitatingly.
"Why do you continue to call me _madame_? I call you Rochebrune."
"But, if not that, what may I presume to call you?"
"I have told you to look upon me as your friend, your comrade. If I were
a man, you would call me Frederique, as I call you Rochebrune; so, call
me Frederique."
"I shall never dare!"
"Why not, when I give you leave?"
"Because you don't seem to me in the least like a man."
She smiled queerly, passed her hand over her head, took off her little
cap and tossed it on the floor, ran her fingers through her curls,
rumpled up the _bandeau_, and made curls of that, saying, as she thus
rearranged her coiffure:
"Does Monsieur Charles Rochebrune refuse to tell me what he has had on
the tip of his tongue several times?"
"I beg your pardon, madame--I was thinking--I was surprised--not to
find--another person here."
Frederique curled her lip and frowned slightly.
"Do you refer to Monsieur Saint-Bergame?" she said.
"Yes."
"It is true that--three days ago--I should not have taken supper without
him. But we have quarrelled."
"Ah! you are on bad terms now?"
"Yes."
"Not for long, I presume?"
"Perhaps so. When one has been able to pass two days without trying to
see a certain person, one can pass a week; when one has passed a week,
there is no reason why one should not pass a month, and so on. He did
something that--displeased me, and I told him so. Instead of
apologizing, he thought it became him to make a scene, and he made a
miserable failure of it. He should have come the next day--that same
night, indeed--to beg my pardon; he didn't do it, and now I think it
would be too late. Look you, my friend--I want to call you my friend,
and you give me leave, do you not, monsieur?--I believe that I can do
without Saint-Bergame much better than I thought."
As she spoke, she offered me her hand so prettily that I was tempted to
throw my arms about her and kiss her. But I confined myself to taking
her hand and putting it to my lips; whereupon she hastily withdrew it,
crying:
"Well, well! what in heaven's name is he doing? Are men in the habit of
kissing their male friends' hands? that is a new idea, on my word!"
XX
BETWEEN THE PIPE AND THE CHAMPAGNE
The baron, who was beginning to be drowsy with the combined effects of
the wine and tobacco, and whose eyes were not nearly so wide open as at
the beginning of the supper, saw me, none the less, when I kissed Madame
Dauberny's hand. He immediately snatched his pipe from his mouth and
glared at me, crying:
"Mein gut frent, is id drue tat you pe not ein leedle pit in loafe mit
montame? not ein leedle pit, I say?"
"What has stirred you up now, baron?" laughed Frederique; "are you going
to begin again?"
"Nein, but for vat do mein gut frent Rocheverte, he kiss your hand? I
haf seen him kiss your hand."
"I did it without concealment, baron, and I ask nothing better than to
do it again."
"So! in tat case, so vill ich do id again; but I haf not yet done id at
all."
"Fill your pipe, baron, and let my hand alone. We were saying that
Armantine's concert this evening was a bit _mouche_, to use a slang
term--eh, monsieur?"
"Yes, madame."
"I haf not seen if tere vas _mouches_ [flies] at Monsir Sordeville's;
but he pe ein sehr bleazant man, sehr--how you say?--he make me much
talk; he loafe ven I talk; he say tat I shpeak vell te language."
Frederique's face suddenly changed; her brow grew dark, and her
expression was no longer the same. She looked keenly at the baron,
saying:
"What did you talk about with Monsieur Sordeville?"
"Ve talk of pizness. As I haf come to France mit der ambassador, he haf
question me of bolitics, of te gufernment, of many serious subjects. He
pe a brovound man, he haf alvays agree mit me."
Frederique seemed to be lost in thought.
"And this was only the second time that you had been to Monsieur
Sordeville's?" she asked, after a moment.
"Ja! id vas te second time. I haf met te monsir at te house of Montame
de Granvallon, vere I haf had te bleazure to meet mit you."
"And you did not know Monsieur Sordeville before?"
"Not at all; but he make agwaindance so easy, he vas sehr amiable; his
vife, as he tell me, she haf peen much frent mit you."
"Yes, Armantine and I were at the same boarding school; we were friends.
I left the school long before she did; I refused to learn to do anything
except fence and ride, and those things were just what they didn't teach
there. I would have liked to go to the Polytechnic, and then to
Saint-Cyr; to be a soldier, in fact. I held up to my parents the
precedent of the Chevalier d'Eon, who, although a woman, was cunning
enough to lead a man's life for years. But they declared that it would
be too great a risk. Parents constantly thwart their children's
inclinations like that.--When I met Armantine again, she was married,
and we renewed our old friendship. She is good-humored, merry, a little
inclined to be capricious, a great flirt, but good at heart. As for her
husband--in my opinion, he pays too little attention to his wife; he
gives her too much liberty. I don't say that she abuses it, but, you
see, you gentlemen are sometimes very gallant, very adventurous! And
when the husband is never on the spot, why, it's his own fault if
anything happens to him."
"What is this Monsieur Sordeville's business?" I asked Frederique. She
did not answer for some time, but at last she said:
"I thought that you knew him?"
"From having met him two or three times at a house where they give balls
and play cards. He talked with me, more or less; he doesn't lack
intelligence, he talks well, and possesses the much rarer gift of making
others talk. We see so many people in society whose conversational
powers consist in interrupting one at every instant, and who do not
understand that one may have something better to do than listen to them.
I had some talk with Monsieur Sordeville, as I say; and then I met him
again at that wedding party, where you were so kind to me, and where he
invited me to his house. But I did not dream of asking him what his
profession was. Indeed, if he is rich, he is justified in having none."
"It seems that he has some property; but I have an idea that he
speculates on the Bourse. Were you better pleased with him this evening
than with--did he make himself agreeable? He received you cordially, I
have no doubt; but what did you talk about with him? not his wife, I
presume?"
"No; he was discussing serious subjects with an old gentleman who kept
blinking, or rather closed his eyes altogether, when he spoke. They got
onto politics, and talked thereon a long while."
Frederique was not at all the same woman as our hostess of a few moments
earlier. After quite a long silence, during which our lovelorn Prussian
continued to drown his heartache in champagne, I touched my neighbor's
arm softly, saying:
"You seem to be a long way off. Are you tired? do you wish us to go?"
Frederique raised her head, passed her hand across her forehead, and
resumed her jovial air.
"Ah! you are right!" she exclaimed; "scold me, my friend. I have fits of
musing, sometimes; I fall into a train of thought that is utterly void
of sense! It is very wrong in me, for when you are with me is no time
for me to have such thoughts. But I don't want you to leave me yet; we
get along so well together! Are you inclined to sleep?"
"Oh! no, madame!"
"_Madame_ again! You irritate me! Beware! if you go on in this way, I am
no longer your comrade."
"Pray don't say that--Frederique."
"He called me Frederique! that's very lucky for him! What a lot of
trouble I had, to bring him to that! Ah! I am very glad I succeeded."
She sprang to her feet and began to waltz about the table; then stopped
in front of a mirror over the mantel, and changed the arrangement of her
hair once more, this time twisting a red silk handkerchief about her
head, _a la_ Creole. Then she went to the baron, took him by the
shoulders, and shook him, crying:
"Well! my friend Brunzbrack, you don't open your mouth! Have you gone to
sleep?"
The baron raised his head, rubbed his eyes, and tried to open them, as
he replied:
"Ach! _zaperlotte!_ gone to shleep, me! ven ich bin mit ein so bretty
voman! mit ein voman who turns mein head und mein heart!"
"I don't know whether I have turned your head, but it seemed to me that
you were hardly following the conversation."