San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 48

"Oh! monsieur," she said, "it's a long while since we've seen you here!"

"That is true, Lisa; I have been unable to come these last few days. But tell me, is your mistress visible? May I pay my respects to her?"

The lady's-maid smiled faintly, as she replied:

"It is impossible, monsieur. Madame has the vapors; she cannot receive you."

"She can't receive me--me?"

"You, monsieur."

"But she never used to have the vapors for me."

"_Dame!_ monsieur, she has them now."

"Very well; I understand, Lisa; this means that your mistress doesn't choose to receive me, and so she has given these orders."

The maid dared not admit that that was the truth; but she smiled, and put her finger to her lips. Albert was too well-bred to disregard such an order; he too laughed as his eye met the lady's-maid's, and he turned on his heel, saying with a tragicomic air:

"I have deserved my fate, and must submit to it."

But as he was about to leave the courtyard, he paused.

"Suppose I pay the husband a visit?" he said to himself. "Parbleu! I'll do it; he's just the boy to reconcile his wife and me, or at least to be of great service to me in this emergency. Let's see dear Monsieur Plays."

Albert took the main staircase this time; he asked a footman if Monsieur Plays was at his desk, and, receiving an affirmative reply, entered the merchant's office.

XVII

MONSIEUR PLAYS

The superb Herminie's husband was a little man, of middle age, neither handsome nor ugly, with a very red, babyish face, round eyes, wide open and prominent, red lips always wreathed in smiles; in a word, what might be called a happy face; and happy he was to the last degree.

When he saw young Vermoncey enter his office, Monsieur Plays's face a.s.sumed a curious expression; it was evident that he was embarra.s.sed, and did not know how he ought to receive his visitor. This reception in no wise surprised Albert, for he knew that Monsieur Plays adapted his ideas to his wife's on every subject; one was sure of a cordial welcome from the husband, so long as he was in madame's good books; but as soon as she looked coldly on anyone, or had trouble with one of her adorers, the dear husband dared not be friendly to the person from whom madame had withdrawn her favor. And as Monsieur Plays was one of those men who would like to be on good terms with the whole world, his wife's caprices sometimes caused him very great embarra.s.sment.

"Madame Plays has been giving me a horrible name to her husband,"

thought Albert, noticing the stiff manner in which the merchant greeted him. And, determined to divert himself with the embarra.s.sment of the unfortunate husband who turned a cold shoulder to the young men who ceased to pay court to his wife, he went up to Monsieur Plays, grasped his hand just as he was about to withdraw it, and shook it violently.

"Good-morning, my dear Monsieur Plays!" he cried. "I am delighted to find you. I have been meaning for a long time to come to see you. But time pa.s.ses so quickly! This is the first moment I have been able to find for a week."

Monsieur Plays did not know what reply to make; he bowed, took his pen out of his mouth and put it back again, glanced timidly about the room, as if he feared that his wife would appear, and stammered at last:

"Monsieur Albert--certainly--very well--and you---- You are very kind.

But, you see, I am working just now--I am doing something----"

Albert pretended not to understand the lack of cordiality in that reply; he threw himself into an easy-chair, and continued:

"And the pleasures, Monsieur Plays, how do the pleasures, the little love affairs, come on, eh? Aha! it seems that you're a great lover of the s.e.x, but you keep it dark! Oh! you have made many conquests, they say; I've heard of you in the foyer at the Opera--yes, and in the wings too."

The merchant, who was highly flattered to be looked upon as a rake, smiled and rubbed his hands as he replied:

"No, really! you have heard of me at the Opera?--and in the wings? But I have never been there; Madame Plays wouldn't allow it."

"I believe you, and she is right. But one may know some of these theatrical ladies without going there."

"No, no, I a.s.sure you! But, wait; I believe that a lady did ask me one day to pay a draft that had fifteen days to run, on the plea that she had to take a little journey; but I believe she told me she was a _marcheuse._"[L]

"You see! you acknowledge the corn, rake that you are!"

"What? Why, it never occurred to me that that lady was on the stage. She said she was a _marcheuse_, and I understood that she liked to take long walks."

"Oh! you joker! play the innocent, if you will; but you know perfectly well that that's what they call the supernumeraries at the Opera."

"I give you my word that I had no idea of it. What do you say? there are _marcheuses_ there?"

"Yes, monsieur; and they are a very popular cla.s.s of lorettes."

"Then there ought to be _trotteuses_[M] there, too."

"Ha! ha! you're a sad rascal, Monsieur Plays! And the best part of it is that you conceal your game so perfectly."

Monsieur Plays roared with laughter; he was overjoyed to have discounted a draft for a lady connected with the stage, who had mentioned him in the wings. But he suddenly remembered that his wife had told him that she would not receive Albert any more, that he was an exceedingly ill-bred young man, who had been shockingly rude to her in society; whereupon the poor husband became sober, repented of having laughed, and muttered, with a piteous glance at Albert:

"I don't know why I am laughing, for I have a great deal to do. I have some accounts to look over, and I am away behind. I have an endless amount of work on hand."

Before the young man could reply, a small door leading from the office to the private apartments was suddenly thrown open, and Madame Plays appeared.

The robust Herminie was in morning dress, but there was always something piquant, something seductive, in her costume as well as in her eyes. A figured dress, very high in the neck, entirely concealed her charms, but outlined them with an exact.i.tude which produced a rather more startling effect than nudity; two globes, possibly a little large, but very well placed, proudly embellished her ample chest; a tightly laced waist and very p.r.o.nounced hips served as a pedestal to that bust; and her somewhat dishevelled hair, with long corkscrew curls falling over her shoulders, formed an attractive setting for Madame Plays's face, to which her excitement and her angry glance, as she entered her husband's office, gave much animation.

Herminie manifested no surprise when she saw Albert; it was evident that she expected to find him there, but she hurled a glance at him with which she apparently hoped to strike him to the earth. The young man withstood that awful glance as coolly as if he were provided with a lightning rod, and answered it with a low bow, while a faint smile lurked about the corners of his mouth.

Monsieur Plays was terrified when his wife appeared; he thought that she had heard him laughing with Albert, and he saw that she was angry; so he could not decide what to do, and, in his embarra.s.sment, chewed his pen instead of simply holding it in his mouth.

"Ah! you have company, monsieur?" said Herminie, biting off her words, and looking from Albert to her husband; "I am sorry to interrupt your conversation, messieurs. Doubtless you have some very interesting things to say to each other. If I had dreamed that Monsieur Vermoncey was here, be sure that I should not have come."

"My dear love--we were saying--I don't know what. I didn't expect a visit from----"

"I called upon you first, madame," Albert interposed; "but I was told that you had the vapors, that I could not see you; so I came to ask your husband about your health, as I was anxious about it."

"Yes," murmured Monsieur Plays, spitting out a piece of his pen, "yes, Monsieur Albert came to----"

"Ah! so you are anxious about my health, monsieur! That is a surprise; I should never have guessed it. Ha! ha! admirable! You amuse yourself at a person's expense, you play a trick upon her--a shameful, outrageous jest of a sort you wouldn't dare try with a grisette--and then, a week afterward, you come here as if nothing had happened, with a cool, placid air! Oh! it makes me ill, it sets my nerves on edge; I would like to smash something!"

All this was emitted with remarkable volubility by the superb Herminie, as she paced the floor in intense excitement. Her husband drew back when she talked of smashing something, and faltered: