Le Cocu Part 29

"Mon Dieu! I have no idea; she had been boring me and annoying me for ten minutes; I would have promised her all the treasures of the Indies to get rid of her."

"But why did she hold your hand?"

"Because it is the habit of all those women; they can't say a word to you without taking your arm or your hand."

"Is she a prost.i.tute then?"

"No, she is a--a kept woman."

"She has a very insolent manner, at all events."

At last I induced Eugenie to go in, and we were shown to a private room.

I wrote my order, for after all, I myself realized that I had not dined.

The waiter left the room, whispering to me in an undertone:

"Monsieur will ring when he wants the dinner served."

He evidently misunderstood the state of affairs. Husbands and wives are not in the habit of dining in private rooms.

Madame took a seat in the corner, a long way from the table. She rested her head on one of her hands. She had ceased to weep, but she did not look at me. How amusing it would be, if she acted like that all the time that we were dining, or that I was dining! So this was the little spree to which I had looked forward so eagerly! Man proposes and woman disposes.

I wished Lucile at the devil with all my heart. It was her malice, her obstinacy, that had caused all the trouble. The idea of her refusing to leave me! It was simply because it annoyed me.

It seemed to me that if we were to maintain that att.i.tude, I should do well to ring for dinner at once.

Our room looked on the Champs-Elysees. The weather was beautiful; although it was only the middle of April, it was as warm as midsummer. I opened the window and looked out at the pa.s.sers-by for some time.

Eugenie did not budge; I walked to her side.

"Eugenie, do you propose to stay a mile away from the table like this?"

"I told you that I was not hungry. Eat your dinner, monsieur, I don't object."

"What a delightful pleasure party!"

"Yes, I shall remember it."

"And so shall I, madame. You must have a very bad temper to refuse to listen to reason! The idea of thinking that I was looking for that woman when I was waiting for you!"

"I don't say that you were looking for her, monsieur, I am not foolish enough for that; but I do think that she was looking for you, a task which you often save her, no doubt. Besides, you have admitted that she used to be your mistress."

"That I knew her before I was married, that is true, madame. Perhaps I was foolish to admit that; but as I had done no wrong, I did not think that I ought to lie."

"When a man has known a woman, and continues to see her, he must be on as good terms with her as ever."

"You are very much mistaken! If it were so, men would have altogether too much on their hands."

"Everybody has not known all Paris as you have!"

"Madame, I have been no better nor worse than other men; but I see that I should have been less honest with you."

"You ought to have been more honest with me before marrying me."

"How nice it would have been to tell a virtuous young lady about all my adventures as a bachelor! Really, you are too absurd."

I seized the bell cord and jerked it violently, for I felt that my irritation was getting the upper hand of me.

The waiter came; he opened the door a crack and put the end of his nose inside, saying:

"What does monsieur wish?"

"Our dinner."

"Instantly, monsieur."

And he went away after casting a furtive glance at Eugenie.

"Madame, you need not eat, if you prefer not; but you should sit at the table at least, in order not to attract the waiter's attention."

Eugenie made no reply, but she took her seat at the table opposite me.

The soup was brought, and I filled madame's plate.

"Why, monsieur, I told you that I should not eat anything."

"But, madame, I do not bid you to eat anything; I simply put some soup in your plate so that you may seem to have dined."

Madame made no reply, but she did not touch her soup. I ate mine, humming between my teeth. That is my way when I am angry.

The waiter appeared again; he always took the precaution to turn the k.n.o.b three or four times before coming in. The fellow was an idiot; he must have seen that we were not thinking of making love.

He brought us a beefsteak. At home, Eugenie always served; I did not like to serve, or to carve. But madame would not so much as look at me.

I cut a piece for myself with an angry gesture, then pushed the platter before Eugenie. But she would not touch it; she knew that it annoyed me to see that she did not eat, and so she was very careful not to take a mouthful.

I found that vexation and impatience were taking away my appet.i.te too; but no matter! I ate a double quant.i.ty. To add to my annoyance, a little violinist had stopped under our window; he had played the same tune ever since we had been there, although I had shouted to him that I would give him nothing. I was not in a mood to be generous.

Well, upon my word! Once more the k.n.o.b was turned and returned. What a blockhead that waiter was! I should have been delighted to kick him. He entered, still with an air of mystery, and placed some sweetbreads on the table.

Really these family quarrels are most tiresome, for there is no way to avoid them, one must submit to them from beginning to end. If you are bored at other people's houses, you can go away and never go there again; but at home it is different: you always have to go back. I know that there are husbands who go out in the morning and do not return until bedtime; but is it not a hundred times better to be a bachelor than to be obliged to shun one's house in order to lead a quiet life?

Then at all events, one has some little enjoyment; one laughs now and then at home.

I had evidently been indulging in these reflections, and many others which were not at all rose-colored, for a long time. The violin played on, but I had ceased to attend to it; I had also forgotten the sweetbreads which were before us; indeed I did not realize that I was at a restaurant. I was recalled to myself by the noise of the k.n.o.b being turned. The waiter entered with a roast chicken. He placed his chicken on the table, and looked at the previous dish, which had not been touched. He was uncertain whether he should carry it away, and he looked from one to the other of us. I am sure that he seldom saw such a taciturn couple. As no one said anything to him, he decided to speak.

"Monsieur and madame have not touched the sweetbreads yet. I brought the chicken too soon; I will take it away again."

"No, no, leave it and take away your sweetbreads; we don't want them."

"Oh! I a.s.sure you, monsieur, that they are nicely cooked, and so fresh----"