"All right! so much the better, sacrebleu! Let her come, and we'll tell her something. She's a sinner, a flirt."

"But it's Adolphine who's coming, not f.a.n.n.y."

"Adolphine, the good little sister? Oh! that's a different matter. I will embrace her, I will even make love to her a bit, if she will permit me."

"They are going away, to dress for the ball; but first, I am determined---- Ah! someone is coming--a woman--it's she!"

It was, in fact, the young Adolphine, who ran along the corridor, trembling with distress and emotion, and entered the room, crying:

"What! Monsieur Gustave! you here! Why, in heaven's name, did you come?"

"Because I knew that she was here--and I hope to see her once more."

"Ah! mon Dieu! what madness!--And you, monsieur, you promised to take care of him."

"Why, mademoiselle, I am doing just that; I haven't lost sight of him a moment; and if I hadn't been here, to constantly restrain him, he would have gone twenty times to make trouble at your wedding feast, and to insult the husband."

"Oh! Gustave!"

"No, no, Adolphine; have no fear of that."

"Don't you trust what he says, mademoiselle; he's lost his head; luckily, I am here; I am calm and prudent."

"But why did you come here?"

"We came here to dine, mademoiselle, which we had a perfect right to do.

For, after all, although a man may not belong to a wedding party, that need not prevent his dining, and dining very well too, I give you my word."

"But I can't stay any longer!--We are going away to dress; I am sure they are waiting for me. What do you want of me, Monsieur Gustave?"

"To beg you to give me an opportunity to speak to your sister once more."

"To f.a.n.n.y? Why, it isn't possible! Besides, what would you say to her?"

"I will say good-bye to her forever; I will tell her that I hope that she will be happy--although she has wrecked my life."

"But how do you suppose that she can speak to you in secret? she is always surrounded; there's always somebody with us. What would people say? what would they think?"

"If you refuse, I will go and speak to her during the ball."

"Well--no---- Wait here, then; and, when we return from dressing, I will try--I will make her come through this corridor."

"Oh! thanks, thanks a thousand times! Ah! you are too kind!"

"I must go; adieu! But, in heaven's name, keep out of sight, don't show yourself!"

As she spoke, Adolphine made a sign of intelligence to Cherami, who imagined that the charming young woman was throwing him a kiss; but she disappeared just as he left the table to go to embrace her; and as the waiter entered the room at that moment, the ex-beau bestowed a resounding smack upon that functionary's cheek.

"Sacrebleu! what is this?" cried Cherami, roughly pushing back the waiter, who stood by the door in open-mouthed amazement at the caress he had received.--"Why the devil do you come up under my nose, waiter?

Plague take the knave! I said to myself: 'Gad! this young lady uses very cheap soap!'"

"Pardon, monsieur; it isn't my fault; I was coming in, and you ran into my arms. I know well enough that it wasn't me you meant to embrace."

"It's lucky that you understand that."

"Waiter, what are the ladies doing now?"

"They are all going away, monsieur."

"And the men?"

"Some of them have gone, too; but many stayed, and are playing cards."

"And the Blanquette party, waiter--what are they doing now?"

"The Blanquette party are still at table, monsieur, and singing."

"Ah! I recognize them by that. They'll sit at table till ten o'clock, those people; the petty bourgeois sing at dessert, which is very bad form. However, I confess that I have sometimes gone so far as to hum a ditty myself; I have even composed one on occasion, one which Panard or Colle wouldn't have been ashamed to father. But I like a touch of s.m.u.t myself; don't talk to me of your insipid ballads about roses and zephyrs and the springtime; no, nor your political ballads either; I abominate them; and yet, that's the kind of thing that makes great reputations; and I know men who would have been nothing more than common ballad-mongers, if they hadn't flattered parties and pa.s.sions, and who have reached the very pinnacle of fame because they always end their couplets with the words _fatherland_ and _liberty_. O Armand Gouffe! O Desaugiers! you didn't resort to such methods, so very little is heard of you. You are none the less the real French ballad-makers; your fruitful and vigorous muse has discovered innumerable varied subjects and described them in song, which is much more difficult than to keep harping on the same refrain."

"But, my dear Monsieur Arthur, now that I am waiting for the return of the bride, to whom I shall say adieu forever, if your affairs call you elsewhere, do not hesitate to go. Leave me; I have abused your good-nature too far already."

"I, leave you! No, indeed! What do you take me for?--What! after accepting your suggestion that we should dine together, leave you all of a sudden at dessert? Fie! Only a cad would do that; and, thank G.o.d! I know what good-breeding is. Tell me, do I annoy you? Is my presence distasteful to you?"

"Ah! far from it, my dear sir; you have shown an interest in my affairs, which I shall never forget."

"We were born to be friends, and we are; that is settled, your affairs are mine, what concerns you concerns me. Wherever there is danger for you, it is my duty to look after you; and, you understand, if, while you are talking with the bride, her new husband should happen to come prowling about here, I will just step in front of him and say: 'I am very sorry, my boy, but you can't pa.s.s!'"

"Oh! a thousand thanks for your devotion to me! Waiter! waiter! our bill!"

"Here it is, monsieur."

"You pay for the dinner; that's all right; but as we are to stay here some little time perhaps, we must have something to keep us busy."

"Order whatever you want."

"Waiter, make us a nice little rum punch; it's excellent for the digestion; the English eat a great deal, but they drink punch at dessert, and they're all right. Would you like to play cards, to kill time?"

"Thanks, it would be impossible for me to put my mind on the game."

"I don't insist. I am rather fond of cards, but I don't carry that pa.s.sion to excess. Pardieu! I don't say that I may not take a hand by and by at the Blanquette function. Did I tell you that I knew them?

They're linen-drapers; that sort of people play rather high; but that doesn't frighten me. Ah! here's our punch! I divine it by the odor; the table is excellent at this house."

Cherami lost no time in partaking of the punch. Gustave refused it at first, but finally consented to take a gla.s.s.

The night had come; the lights were lighted on all sides. With the darkness, the unhappy lover's thoughts became more gloomy, his suffering more intense; he buried his face in his hands, muttering:

"It's all over! O f.a.n.n.y! f.a.n.n.y! you will belong to another! Ah! I shall die of my grief!"

"Sapristi!" said Cherami to himself, swallowing several gla.s.ses of punch in rapid succession; "this youngster is very lachrymose; he isn't lively in his cups. With me, it's different; I feel in the mood to dance at all the wedding parties, and to play cards too--only I shall have to borrow a few napoleons from my new friend, in order to be able to tempt fortune. I have an idea that I shall have a vein of luck! I say, my dear friend, aren't we drinking any more?"