Monsieur Cherami Part 23

"I am extremely obliged, monsieur; a thousand pardons for the trouble I am causing you."

"Why, between honorable men, this is the way it should always be: when the fight's over, shake hands. It's a pity the sword went in so far, or we might have breakfasted together."

"Oh! I am forced to admit that that would be quite impossible."

"Yes, I understand. You are in for a fortnight of it, perhaps three weeks. There's a lot of muscles in the arm, that are as obstinate as the devil about getting well. Are you strong enough to walk to your cabriolet, leaning on me? Shall I call your groom?"

"Oh! there's no need; I can walk with your a.s.sistance."

"Take my arm, and don't be afraid to lean on it."

Monleard succeeded, although suffering intensely, in reaching his carriage, which Cherami a.s.sisted him to enter, after putting the swords inside. Then, saluting his adversary, who thanked him again, Cherami walked away, saying:

"Delighted to have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance!"

XIX

A SALON IN THE CHAUSSeE D'ANTIN

Three weeks after the marriage of f.a.n.n.y Gerbault and the brilliant Auguste Monleard, the exceedingly handsome salon of a house on Rue Neuve-des-Mathurins contained, about nine o'clock in the evening, a company in which, although small in numbers, we shall find several persons of our acquaintance.

First of all, this young woman seated on a _causeuse_, beside a lovely table of Chinese lacquer, and working carelessly upon a piece of embroidery, is the newly made bride, f.a.n.n.y, now Madame Monleard, in a charming gown of the sort one wears at home, to receive a few friends; she has no other head-dress than her own hair, which is arranged with much taste, the back hair being braided and wound about the head, like a crown.

Marriage has not impaired the young woman's beauty; her complexion is fresh and rosy, her eyes gleam with greater animation, and about her lips plays a smile of satisfaction, almost of beat.i.tude, except, however, when her eyes happen to fall upon a newspaper which lies on the table, open at the page containing the transactions on the Bourse, and the stock quotations. At such times, her brows contract slightly, and her lips close; but that feeling of vexation soon disappears, the charming f.a.n.n.y turns her eyes elsewhere, and her face resumes its amiable and contented expression.

A short distance away, another young woman is sitting at the piano, turning over the leaves of a volume of music. It is Adolphine, f.a.n.n.y's sister. You know already that her hair is not so black as her sister's, and that her eyes are a little smaller, which fact does not prevent Adolphine from being a charming person; above all, there is on her face a sweet and melancholy expression, which always attracts, and arouses interest. A little taller than her sister, Adolphine has a slender, elegant figure; her walk is always graceful. Pretty women have this peculiarity in common with cats, that there is in their slightest movements an indefinable fascination; and this quality is not the attribute of the most coquettish only, but equally of those in whom grace of movement is entirely natural.

For some time past, Adolphine's melancholy had almost become sadness; her eyes were often fixed on the ground, and she would sit for hours buried in thought, which, if one could judge by the expression of her features, was not concerned with pleasant memories. Suddenly, she would emerge from her abstraction, and, as if ashamed of having abandoned herself to her reveries, would glance hastily about, to see if anyone had noticed her; and would strive to smile, in order to conceal the thoughts with which her heart was occupied; but her smile was never very real, and her merriment was like her smile.

Beyond the piano was a card-table, at which four persons were playing the inevitable whist. First, there was a lady evidently on the wrong side of forty, but who had once been very pretty, and who still produced a brilliant effect by artificial light, thanks to an extremely careful toilet, in which were employed all those invaluable cosmetics which help to prevent a lady from appearing old. Furthermore, Madame de Mirallon--such was her name--wore diamonds of very great value at her neck and in her ears. But those who claim that diamonds embellish a woman are entirely mistaken; we should say simply that they enrich her; and, in this connection, we may well remember the remark of Apelles: "You make her rich, because you cannot make her beautiful."

At this lady's right was a man of about fifty years, with an intelligent and distinguished face, somewhat cold and reserved in manner, but unimpeachably courteous, even when, in the course of conversation, he indulged in a stinging retort. He spoke but little, however, and his dress and bearing were perfectly consonant with his age. He was Monsieur Clairval.

Opposite him was a young man, neither handsome nor ugly, but dressed with extreme care, and with a head of hair worthy to figure in a wig-maker's show-window. It should be said that the young dandy was the proud possessor of a forest of chestnut locks, a fertile field for the invention of a hair-dresser. Monsieur Anatole de Raincy--such was the young man's name--played cards in straw-colored gloves, moulded to a pair of tiny hands of which he seemed to be very proud, and which he kept always in evidence. To complete the portrait, we must add a small light chestnut moustache, eyegla.s.ses, and a constant lisp in his speech.

The fourth whist player, who was the lady's partner, was a man about forty years old, a faded blonde, with a conceited and idiotic air; a doll's face, from which protruded a pair of great eyes which were always rolling from side to side with an astonished expression--an expression which never varied. He bowed whenever anyone spoke to him, and found a way to pay compliments to everybody, accompanying his speeches with a conventional smile, which he retained even when he was listening to others; all of which may afford you in antic.i.p.ation an accurate idea of the ingenuousness of this individual, whose name was Batonnin.

An old beau, of at least sixty years, but who affected the dress, the gait, and all the manners of a young man, fluttered about the table, dancing attendance on the ladies; his face alone persisted in betraying his age, although its owner did his utmost to avoid the scrutiny of the curious. But his cheeks, which had fallen in on account of the loss of his teeth, a very long nose, purple at the end, and an a.s.sortment of wrinkles which streaked his temples, made it impossible for that face to create an illusion. As for the hair, it was of a fine, glossy black, which proved that he wore a wig.

Such was Monsieur le Comte de la Beriniere, a venerable dandy, who still possessed a handsome fortune, although he had consumed a portion of his means by living like a prince, and paying a.s.siduous court to the fair s.e.x. Monsieur de la Beriniere's great fault was his obstinate belief that he was still young and fascinating, and his consequent persistence in seeking to make conquests. However, being descended from an ill.u.s.trious family, and having all the manners of a grand seigneur, the count, albeit he had not overmuch intelligence, had, at all events, the merit of being always amiable and cheerful; and, as we see, he had never chosen to meddle with any but the attractive features of life. We may add that he had never married.

The count left the whist table, and, approaching Madame Monleard, examined her embroidery.

"Ah! what pretty work that is you are doing, belle dame! Why, you seem to possess all the talents!"

"Mon Dieu! I haven't so very many!"

"Is it a rug you're making?"

"No; it's a design for a footstool."

"What a lucky dog Monleard is! He has married a treasure!"

"You exaggerate, monsieur le comte."

"No, I say what I think; and if I had known you earlier---- Oh! I know what I'd have done! Ah! Dieu!"

"What a sigh! Ha! ha! ha!"

"It makes you laugh to hear me sigh?"

"Why, what other effect should it have on me?"

"Ah! women are cruel sometimes. But, no matter! if I had known you before Monleard, I would have solicited the honor of making you Comtesse de la Beriniere."

"What nonsense!"

"Oh! I am not joking. But fate willed otherwise. And I say again that Monleard is a lucky dog.--By the way, how is his arm?"

"It is improving slowly; he can't use it yet."

"It's a long while getting well.--And to think that that accident happened the very day after your wedding!"

"Yes, the next day."

"He fell on the stairs, I believe?"

"Yes, he slipped, and fell on his arm."

"For heaven's sake, Monsieur de la Beriniere, do come and advise my partner, Monsieur Batonnin. Upon my word, he's been making mistake after mistake!"

"It must be my pleasure in playing with you, madame, that distracts me,"

rejoined the little man with the protruding eyes, bowing to his partner.

"In that case, monsieur, moderate your pleasure, I entreat you, and don't trump my kings any more."

The count regretfully quitted the young bride and returned to the card-table, saying:

"But monsieur doesn't need my advice; he plays very well."

"Oh! you are too good, monsieur!"

"I am well aware that Monsieur de la Beriniere prefers to pay court to the ladies rather than watch the game!" rejoined Madame de Mirallon, in a tone which she intended to be ironical, but in which there was a slight tincture of mortification; "but he can afford to spare us a few moments."