He raised his head at last, rubbed his eyes, and exclaimed:
"Vat! is id bossible? Haf I pin ashleep? _Sapremann!_ Nein, nein! I vas not ashleep; you tought--you haf been mishtook."
"As you please; but let us go."
"Wo ist te bretty hostess--Montame Frederique?"
"She has gone to her room, I tell you, requesting us to go home."
"Ach Gott! is id tat she too tought tat I haf pin ashleep? I am fery annoyed--I haf not shlept; I haf reflected; I haf pin shtill in loafe mit te lady; and you, mein gut frent, you must not loafe her ein leedle pit; you haf bromised."
"No, monsieur le baron, I am not at all in love with Madame Dauberny.
Make love to her, if you will; I shall not be your rival."
"Gif me your hand, mein frent."
"But it"s very late; let us go."
"I vould vish to say gut night to te lady; to say to her tat I haf not shleep."
"You can come another time and tell her that. She has gone to her room, and to bed probably; she would not see you. Come!"
I succeeded at last, with much difficulty, in inducing the baron to leave the place. When we reached the street, he himself asked me to get into his carriage, and insisted on taking me home. But we were no sooner seated than his head fell back heavily against the cushions and he slept once more. I told the coachman to drive to his master"s hotel, where he and the footman undertook to take him up to his apartment.
I returned on foot to my lodgings. The fresh air always does one good after a banquet at which one has not been abstemious; and then, too, I have always loved to be out late in Paris. It is so easy to walk, and the noisy, bustling city wears such a different aspect! Everything is quiet and deserted. You may walk through the most frequented streets, the most populous quarters, as if you were strolling on the outer boulevards. No carriages to block your way; no itinerant hucksters to deafen you with their yells; no pa.s.sers-by to elbow you; no awnings, no stands outside of shop doors for you to run into; no dogs to run between your legs; no horses to splash mud on you; no concierges to sweep their gutters onto your boots. Vive Paris at night! especially since the streets have been lighted by gas, so that one can see as well as at noonday.
XXIV
COQUETRY AND BACCARAT.--A FIASCO
A week had pa.s.sed since the unique night I had spent at Madame Dauberny"s. I had respected that lady"s orders and had made no attempt to see her; I had simply left my card with her concierge.
When the image of _my friend Frederique_ presented itself to my mind, I exerted myself to banish it without pity; it seemed to me that my supper in her apartments was a dream, which it was not necessary that I should remember.
For several days, too, I had felt strongly inclined not to call again on Madame Sordeville. But, before renouncing my hopes in that direction altogether, I determined to go to her house once more. If she received me coldly a second time, I swore that I would not try to see her again.
One fine day, after making a careful toilet,--which always made my servant Pomponne smile, for he was bent on considering himself very sly,--I presented myself at the door of the pretty brunette, whose hair, by the way, was not so beautiful as her friend Frederique"s; but we cannot have everything.
"Madame is at home," said the concierge.
I went upstairs, gave my name, and was admitted to madame"s boudoir, a charming sanctuary, the divinity of which was sure to attract many of the faithful.
I was greeted with the most gracious smile imaginable; she reproached me most kindly for having left her so long without a glimpse of me. Never had Armantine looked lovelier to me, and her amiability was delightful.
I found once more my partner of the ball at Deffieux"s.
I pa.s.sed an hour at Madame Sordeville"s, and at the end of the hour it seemed to me that I had just arrived. What did I say to her? I have no idea; but I think that I squeezed her hand more than once, and that it did not seem to offend her. I went so far as to put her hand to my lips; she withdrew it, and said in a tone in which there was no trace of severity:
"Well, well! what are you doing? what are you thinking about?"
"You, nothing but you."
"Oh! pardon me if I do not believe you! When one thinks so much of people, one doesn"t go whole weeks without seeing them."
"When those people have received us with icy coldness, is it not natural that we should hesitate before venturing to present ourselves again?"
"Coldness! Ought I to have taken your hand, made you sit down beside me, and talked exclusively with you all the evening?"
"Oh! you are laughing at me, madame! You are well aware that, even in a crowd, before witnesses, there are a thousand ways of pouring balm on a suffering, anxious heart; a word, a glance, is enough."
"But, monsieur, such words and glances are almost signs of a mutual understanding, and are only exchanged by persons who know each other very well, who are sure of each other."
I kissed her hand. That time she made no objection and did not withdraw it; but she faltered:
"You are so impulsive! I begin to think that a tete-a-tete with you is very dangerous."
"And you will not receive me again?"
"I didn"t say that."
"And you will permit me to love you?"
"If I should forbid you to, would you obey me?"
"Oh, no!"
"Then you see that I may as well permit it."
"And I may hope?"
"Ah! I didn"t say that!"
"But you will not say anything!"
"I am not so quick as you.--By the way, I did have something to say to you. The other evening, you went away with Madame Dauberny, I believe.
Did you escort her home? That would be very natural, as my friend was of such great a.s.sistance to you at the Guillardin ball that you should be polite to her."
I did not know what to say; I was uncertain whether Frederique wanted it known that she had invited us to supper. In that uncertainty, it seemed to me more becoming to say nothing about that episode; one never repents having been discreet.
"I escorted Madame Dauberny to her door," I replied, after a moment, "and left her there."
"Ah! that is strange! It took you a long time to tell me that!"
"Because--I had forgotten."
"Indeed! Frederique is so original--so disdainful of conventionalities sometimes, that I had thought----"