"There! How does my hair look?"
"Delicious, my friend! You"ll suffocate all rivals."
"Oh! all I care for is to be decent, presentable. You see, I make no pretensions."
"That is why you stand hours in front of your gla.s.s, practising smiles."
"For you alone, Fifine.--Ah! now where are my gloves?"
"I say, there"ll be a supper, no doubt, where you"re going? Bring me something."
"You expect me to put ices in my pocket, I suppose?"
"There"ll be other things besides ices; I want you to bring me some sweetmeats, or I"ll never put on curl-papers for you again."
"All right--we will see."
"Is monsieur going very far?"
"Rue du Helder."
"The milords" quarter!--You mean to take a cab, no doubt?"
"I surely shan"t go on foot in this costume.--Let me see--it"s half past nine; I shall be at the Baron de Marcey"s at quarter to ten. That will do."
"Then it wasn"t worth while to make such a terrible fuss, my friend."
"There"s a cabstand almost in front of the house. I wonder if you would be kind enough to go down with me and call one?"
"That"s it; the only thing left for me to do will be to ride behind. But no matter; this is one of my good-natured days; forward!"
Robineau locked his door; Fifine went downstairs with him and called a cab, into which Robineau jumped after pressing the young milliner"s hand affectionately. She watched him go and called to him once more:
"Don"t forget to bring me something good!"
III
RECEPTION AT THE BARON DE MARCEY"S.--A SUPPER PARTY OF YOUNG MEN AND ITS RESULTS
The cab halted in front of a handsome hotel. There was a long line of private carriages waiting to enter the courtyard; one would have thought that they were taking their owners to the Bouffes, or to see the English actors. There is not so large an audience at the Francais when they are playing Moliere or Racine; but our actors have not made a special study of the death agony of a moribund; they do not exhibit to us all the dying convulsions of a man who is being murdered, nor make us hear all the hiccoughs of a princess who is starving to death; those pretty little episodes are very pleasant to witness, they excite the nerves of people who need such tableaux to arouse the slightest emotion. And yet there are some people who claim that it is more difficult to act well a scene from _Tartufe_ or _Le Misanthrope_, than to imitate a scene from the Place de Greve. But let us allow every one to follow his or her taste, and let us be content to congratulate him who still enjoys a play that does not last forty years, and who is moved by a scene in which no one dies.
When he saw the throng of carriages and the brilliantly lighted salons, Robineau said to himself:
"This will be a very numerous, very fashionable and very well a.s.sorted affair!"
He at once alighted from his cab, and hurried toward the entrance, pa.s.sing his hand over his curls and putting on his second glove. Then he went up to the first floor, reflecting thus:
"After all, I am as good as all these people--better perhaps. Even if they do have carriages--what difference does it make to me?"
Robineau said this to himself in order that he might not seem embarra.s.sed and intimidated when he entered the salons; but it did not prevent his being red of face and stiff and awkward when he found himself in the midst of the guests, where he vainly sought Alfred for some time. At last his friend came to him, and, taking his arm, began by indulging in some jesting remarks concerning divers persons present.
This gave Robineau time to recover himself; he resumed his self-a.s.surance, his customary smile, and began to cast his eyes upon the ladies, thinking only of making conquests.
"By the way, your father, Monsieur le Baron de Marcey--I have not yet had the honor of paying my respects to him," said Robineau, as he gazed admiringly at some very pretty young ladies who had just entered the salon.
"My father has seen you before; must I present you to him again? It"s the same ceremony every time!"
"It"s a long time since he saw me, my dear fellow, and----"
"That makes no difference; you have one of those faces that no one ever forgets."
As he spoke, Alfred walked away to speak to some ladies, and Robineau murmured:
"I certainly have a face that--I wonder if he meant that for an epigram?
that would be very becoming in him.--Ah! there is Monsieur de Marcey."
A man of some forty-eight years was pa.s.sing Robineau at that moment; he was of tall stature and his carriage was n.o.ble and imposing; his strongly marked features were still very handsome, although they seemed to be already fatigued by too intense emotions rather than by years. He was a little bald in front, although his hair was still dark; lastly, his face was habitually serious and almost stern. But to those persons who could read his countenance more understandingly, the expression of his somewhat sombre glance was rather melancholy than severe. However, his black eyes grew softer, and a faint smile played about his lips whenever he looked at his son. Such was the Baron de Marcey.
"Monsieur de Marcey,--I have the honor--I am much flattered----"
The baron glanced at Robineau for an instant, then exclaimed:
"Ah! this is Monsieur Robineau, I believe?"
"Yes, monsieur, an intimate friend of your son, who invited me to come; and I took advantage of----"
"My son"s friends will always be mine, monsieur, and they confer a favor on me by coming to my house."
As he spoke, Monsieur de Marcey bowed to Robineau, and pa.s.sed on to speak with other guests, while the government clerk puffed himself up and sauntered through the throng, saying to himself:
"Monsieur de Marcey is always extremely amiable to me; indeed I consider him more amiable than his son, because he hasn"t always that mocking air.--Ah! there"s the music; they are going to dance. I think I will dance, too; but with a pretty woman, for I can never keep in step with an ugly one,--it"s no use for me to try."
The orchestra had given the signal; one of Tolbecque"s lovely strains drew the dancers together from all sides, and charmed the ears of those who did not dance, but who, as they watched beauty and innocence _cha.s.ser_ and _balancer_, listened with delight to airs selected from our best composers" prettiest operas.
Robineau addressed himself too late to several comely young ladies who were already engaged; he was forced to take a partner who had naught in her favor save her youth and a very stylish costume. He heard somebody call her madame la comtesse, and that made him desirous to distinguish himself as her partner; but she seemed to pay very little heed to his airs and graces, and replied only by monosyllables to the complimentary remarks he addressed to her.
"She"s a prude!" Robineau muttered, after he had escorted the countess to her seat; and he proceeded to invite a very attractive young person to whom also he essayed to play the amiable; but she contented herself with smiling at what he said to her, and seemed wholly intent on the dance.
"She"s a fool!" thought Robineau, as he carried his homage elsewhere.
But finding that he created no sensation, despite his energetic movements and the smiles he lavished on his partners, he left the ball-room.
"After all," he muttered, "among all these fine ladies there isn"t one who comes up to Fifine! And if Fifine had a tulle gown, and a wreath in her hair, and some of those great bracelets with antique cameos--ah!
what a sensation she"d make!--I"ll take a look at the ecarte table. I will carelessly bet a five-franc piece.--Ah! the deuce! there are ices; I"ll begin by seizing one on the wing."
Robineau took an ice, and, in order to eat in comfort, seated himself behind two gentlemen of mature years, who were talking together in a small salon between the ball-room and the card-room.