"Poor man! the utmost he can do will be to say a word or two to her--after supper."

"He's not a blunt talker, like Joconde."

"No; but his wine is delicious."

"And he has an excellent cook."

"Upon my word, I have the greatest esteem for him!"

"For the cook?"

"No; for Grandmaison, you sorry joker!--Come, messieurs; no remarks with a double meaning; that's forbidden to-day. Besides, I am for morals before everything!"

During this pleasant conversation, I amused myself by examining the four gentlemen. One, who was short, stout, and red-headed, contented himself with laughing at every sally of the others, but did not venture to add any of his own. He who talked most was a little man of some fifty years, who tried to outdo the younger men by a.s.suming the airs of a rake and uttering all the obscenities that came into his head. A thin, pallid young man, whose hollow, lifeless eyes betrayed his abuse of life, was stretched out in an easy-chair, and swayed to and fro as he addressed an occasional senseless rhapsody to the jocose Raymond, who was in his element. A tall, bulky individual, with large oxlike eyes and a nose that would have put a colocynth to shame, completed the circle, which, in my opinion, lacked only Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche.

At last a door at the end of the room opened and Monsieur de Grandmaison appeared, dragging his leg after him. But he was alone.

"Where is she? where is she?" cried all the guests, with one voice.

"One moment! one moment, pray! you'll see her in a moment. She is giving a little attention to her toilet. When I told her that she was to sup with some friends of mine, she didn't want to appear in neglige; and then, too, I am not sorry to let her see all the presents I have for her. I left her with a lady's-maid. A little patience and some punch--that will help us to wait for our supper."

Raymond presented me to Monsieur de Grandmaison, who exhausted himself in commonplace felicitations upon my kindness in honoring his little party. I answered in fear and trembling, lest he should recognize me; but my apprehension soon vanished; I saw that Monsieur de Grandmaison needed his opera gla.s.s to distinguish objects.

An enormous bowl of punch was brought, and the gentlemen did it so much honor that I was very doubtful what their condition would be at supper.

The tall man with the stupid face, whom the others called _milord_, did nothing but fill his gla.s.s and empty it; while the little red-headed fellow, whom I heard them call Zamorin, stuffed himself with macaroons, cake, and biscuits, to a.s.sist him to wait for the supper.

The old rake and the languid young man questioned Grandmaison concerning his new mistress's features; and the host went into her charms in detail, promising to inform them more fully on the morrow.

"What shall we call her?" inquired Raymond.

"Her name is Madame Saint-Leon. A pretty name, isn't it, messieurs?"

"Yes, very pretty. I think a great deal of the name myself."

"Has she any children?"

"Idiot! didn't I tell you that she was almost a novice?"

"True; but _almost_ doesn't mean that----"

"Nonsense! hold your tongue, Raymond; you insult innocence!" said Monsieur Rocambolle, the old rake. "I am sure that Grandmaison found this woman at Les Vertus."

Enchanted by his jest, Monsieur Rocambolle turned, with a laugh, to the young man; who laughed with him, showing two or three discolored teeth, his only remaining ones.

Amid the general clatter, as I did not wish to seem bored in the agreeable company of these gentry, I said at random whatever came into my head; and sometimes, without any effort to that end, I had the pleasure of making the merry fellows laugh.

"Didn't I tell you that he was a wag, a delightful fellow?" cried Raymond.

I was a delightful fellow! I swear that I had taken no pains to be delightful, but I fancy that my companions were not exacting.

Supper was announced, and Grandmaison looked at his watch.

"Three-quarters of an hour," he said; "she must be ready; I will fetch her. Go into the supper room, and I will bring her to you there."

He left the room, and Raymond, who was familiar with the locality, led us into a round, elegantly decorated room, in the centre of which was a table laden with everything calculated to flatter the sight, the smell, and the taste.

A handsome clock on a low white marble mantel marked within a few minutes of midnight.

"The devil!" exclaimed Monsieur Rocambolle; "almost twelve o'clock! We shall have mighty little time to enjoy ourselves."

"Or to eat," said Zamorin.

"Wait, wait, messieurs," said Raymond, who always insisted upon finding a way to provide for everything; "I'll set it back an hour."

"Well said! well said!" cried all the others. "That devil of a Raymond is never at a loss! he's as inventive as a girl."

Overjoyed to display the resources of his imagination, Raymond ran to the clock, raised with startling rapidity the globe that covered it, moved back the hands, and set the regulator so far toward _slow_ that, from the way in which he went about it, I concluded it would not be midnight for two hours. Our attention was diverted by Monsieur de Grandmaison's voice, which announced the arrival of her whom all the guests awaited, but how much less impatiently than myself!

All eyes were turned toward the door by which she was to enter; I alone stood aside, in such a position that she would not see me at once. We heard the rustling of her gown, but at that moment there was a loud report in the room; Raymond had broken the mainspring of the clock; and to cover up his stupidity, he hurried away from the fireplace and ran to meet the beauty who was to be presented to us.

She appeared at last, escorted by Monsieur de Grandmaison and by Raymond, who had taken possession of her other hand and was already pouring forth all the pretty things he was capable of saying. I saw her, and my heart beat more violently, my chest swelled. That was the last time that her presence ever produced any effect on me.

She was magnificently dressed: an emerald necklace gleamed on her breast, a very handsome comb and long earrings added to the splendor of her costume. She entered the room with downcast eyes, a.s.suming a modest air almost exactly like that which deceived me the first time I saw her.

That woman was able to do whatever she chose with her face.

"Now," thought I, "let us see how she will endure a sight of me."

She raised her eyes to the company at last; instantly a concert of praise and compliments burst forth. She was in truth very fair to look upon, and the gentlemen vied with one another in their efforts to find words enthusiastic enough to depict their ecstasy and enchantment. How happy she was at that moment! there was a flush on her brow, but it was a flush of pleasure, of pride, not of modesty.

"But where's my friend?" cried Raymond, looking about for me. He spied me in the corner from which I was observing the scene, ran to me, seized my hand, and dragged me toward Caroline.

"Come on," he said; "come, I say, and see the Three Graces! She's Hebe, she's Venus, she's Psyche, she's----"

Raymond was interrupted by a cry from Caroline. She glanced at me as I began to pay my respects to her, congratulating Monsieur de Grandmaison.

She turned pale, stammered, tried to recover herself; but the shock was too sharp; she tottered, and fell upon her latest adorer. He, being then occupied in responding to his friends' congratulations, received the young woman's weight as he was about to take a pinch of snuff, to help him to make some witty response. The poor man was not strong enough to resist that unexpected blow; his left leg was always out of line, and Caroline's weight causing the right one to bend, Monsieur de Grandmaison fell heavily, trying to grasp what was nearest him, which happened to be Monsieur Rocambolle's thigh. He clung to that, which he supposed to be an integral part of the person, but his hand grasped nothing but the cotton wool with which the old libertine stuffed his breeches in order to improve his shape. The broadcloth split and tore, and Monsieur Rocambolle's fict.i.tious thigh remained in Monsieur de Grandmaison's hand.

While Monsieur Rocambolle angrily reclaimed his cotton posterior, while the toothless youth threw himself upon a couch, laughing like a maniac, while Zamorin looked to see if the supper were growing cold, and while milord gazed from one to another of the company with eyes that seemed to be starting from his head, Raymond, wishing to repair the damage una.s.sisted, rushed to the table in search of something to give the fainting woman. As he put out his hand for a carafe, he overturned a decanter of madeira, also a candelabrum, the candles in which fell upon a fromage glace and went out. The decanter fell on Monsieur de Grandmaison's face, who swore that his nose was broken; while Zamorin, seeing the havoc Raymond was making on the supper table, called loudly for help. The servants hastened to the spot, but their presence served only to increase the confusion. Caroline was still unconscious, or pretended to be in order to conceal her embarra.s.sment; Monsieur de Grandmaison continued to curse, Monsieur Rocambolle to shout, Zamorin to lament, and the young man to laugh; the Englishman tried to put a bottle or two of champagne in a safe place; and Raymond, in attempting to a.s.sist the young woman, to raise Grandmaison, and to restore order, overturned furniture, smashed bottles and plates, sent a chicken in one man's face, a pie into another's lap, and ended by falling upon a small table laden with liqueurs and brandied fruits.

What further business had I at Monsieur de Grandmaison's? My revenge was complete; the confusion was at its height; the scene of pleasure was transformed into a scene of uproar and distress; singing had given place to outcries, bonsmots to lamentations, drunkenness to wrath, merriment to gloom; in a word, Caroline had seen and recognized me, and the effect had surpa.s.sed my antic.i.p.ations. I was satisfied; and leaving them all to extricate themselves from their plight as best they could, I left Monsieur de Grandmaison's house, thoroughly cured of the sentiment the young flowermaker had inspired in me.

XXIII

THE TWO VISITS.--THE LESSON IN HANDWRITING

On the following morning, at nine o'clock, my doorbell rang. I was still in bed, reviewing the events of the evening, and laughing at that which had been powerless. .h.i.therto to extort a smile from me, because a single sentiment had filled my mind and prevented me from considering the scene from its comic side. But now that my head was cool, my heart tranquil, and my mind no longer tormented by the antic.i.p.ation of what was to happen, I thought of the different personages I had left at Monsieur de Grandmaison's house; I fancied that I could see them gathered about the lost supper, lost by the exertions of Monsieur Raymond; and I laughed all by myself, as if I were still in their midst.