"And then, I must admit that I don't clearly understand the letter."

"If you understood it, the charm would be destroyed."

"Why not write simply, as one speaks?"

"Because three-fourths of the women, who are impervious to seduction by what is simple and natural, are delighted when a man seems to have lost his head for love of them. Trust me; this note will deliver the heart of the lovely Pole into your keeping. Sign that and give it to me."

Cherubin did as he was told.

"By the way," said Darena, as he took the letter, "don't mention this intrigue to your Monsieur de Monfreville."

"Why not?"

"In the first place, because an intrigue with such distinguished persons as these Poles requires to be conducted with the utmost secrecy.

Monfreville is very inquisitive and very talkative; he would want to see the lovely foreigner and that would spoil everything."

"But you are very much mistaken; Monsieur de Monfreville is neither inquisitive nor talkative; on the contrary, he is a most sensible man, and he gives me excellent advice."

Darena bit his lips, seeing that it was useless for him to try to destroy Cherubin's good opinion of Monfreville.

"Monfreville, sensible, virtuous!" he retorted in a sarcastic tone. "At all events, he hasn't always been; I remember a time when he was the greatest ne'er-do-well; nothing was talked about but his conquests. To be sure, it was fifteen or eighteen years ago. When the devil grows old, he turns hermit. For my part, I am not changed, at all events; as I always have been, so I propose to remain; I prefer that. However, my dear fellow, I tell you again that, if I consent to act for you in your love-affair with the young Pole, I do it solely on account of my friendship for you; but you understand that the slightest indiscretion would compromise me. I demand secrecy, or I will have nothing to do with it."

Cherubin swore that he would not mention his new conquest to a soul, and Darena left him, promising to return as soon as he should have anything to tell him.

Darena had hardly left his young friend, when Jasmin entered his master's presence. The old servant's manner was important and mysterious, and at the same time showed much satisfaction with the errand he had to perform. He tried to walk on tiptoe, as if he was afraid of being overheard; he went close to his master, nearly falling upon him because he lost his balance trying to lean over him, and said, with an expression at once serious and comical:

"There's a woman here, monsieur, who wishes to speak to us--that is to say, to you--if you are alone."

Cherubin could not help laughing at his old servant's expression and at the malicious meaning which he tried to impart to his message.

"Who is the woman, Jasmin? Do you know her?"

"Yes, monsieur, I recognized her from having seen her in her mistress's antechamber; you go to the house sometimes."

"What do you say?"

"Why, yes, she's a lady's maid. Oh! she doesn't come on her own account, it's her mistress who sends her--I know all about it. Many of them used to come to see monsieur le marquis, your father, before he was married.

There was sometimes a line waiting in our little salon. Ha! ha! I used to toy with all the maids."

"Well, from whom does this one come?"

"Didn't I tell monsieur? From Madame de Valdieri."

"The pretty countess! Show her in at once, Jasmin."

Cherubin was very curious to know what Madame de Valdieri could possibly want of him. Jasmin went to call the maid, a tall, stoutly-built girl of some twenty years, with red cheeks and rather an attractive face, who seemed not at all abashed at calling at a gentleman's apartments. After ushering her into his master's room, the old servant, imagining doubtless that he had gone back to the time when they used to stand in line at Cherubin's father's door, essayed, as he left the room, to put his arms about the waist of the pretty lady's maid; but his foot slipped, and, to avoid falling, he was obliged to cling tightly to her, whom he had intended simply to caress; luckily the girl was firm on her legs, and able to sustain the weight of the old fellow, and she merely laughed in his face as he slunk from the room in dire confusion.

As soon as Jasmin had gone, the maid took from the pocket of her ap.r.o.n a tiny scented note, which she handed to the young marquis, saying:

"Madame told me to hand this to monsieur, and to request an immediate answer."

Cherubin quivered with pleasure as he took the note, and while the maid discreetly stepped back, he eagerly read the pretty countess's missive, which contained these words:

"You are not agreeable; I have not seen you for several days. To make your peace with me, will you give me a moment this morning, and tell me your opinion of some verses which have been sent to me?

I shall expect you at one o'clock."

Cherubin was beside himself with joy; he read that pleasant epistle once more, then said to the maid:

"I accept your mistress's invitation with great pleasure, mademoiselle; I will be with her at one o'clock; I shall not fail."

"Then monsieur will not write his answer?" asked the maid.

Cherubin hesitated; he walked toward his desk, realizing that it would be better policy perhaps to seize the opportunity to write something agreeable to his charming friend; but he remembered that Darena had just told him that he did not know how to write a love letter. Fearing that he might make some blunder, he tossed his pen aside, crying:

"No, I think not; I haven't time to write. Besides, I have too many things to say to your mistress; I should not know where to begin; simply a.s.sure her that I will not keep her waiting."

The maid smiled, made a pretty little curtsy, and seemed to be waiting for the young man to slip something into her pocket and take on her cheek an earnest of what he was to take from her mistress. But, finding that he did nothing of the sort, she shrugged her shoulders imperceptibly and left the room, taking pains, as she pa.s.sed through the reception room, not to approach the old servant, who seemed inclined to try again to pull her over.

"The servant is terribly old," she said to herself, "but the master is very young!"

Cherubin was in an ecstasy of delight. Madame de Valdieri's note had caused him to forget the Polish lady altogether. At nineteen years it is common enough to think of present happiness only; the new love expels the old; it is not always necessary to be nineteen years old in order to experience that phenomenon; but can all these sentiments which are constantly replacing one another properly be called love?

Cherubin glanced at his clock; it was half after eleven; he was not to be at Madame de Valdieri's until one, but he proposed to make an extremely careful toilet. He rang for Jasmin, he rang for his other servant, he ordered several suits to be brought, and could not determine which one to wear. He had his hair dressed, crimped and curled, rising constantly to look in a mirror. He told his old servant to perfume his handkerchief, upon which Jasmin emptied several phials, smiling cunningly, and murmuring: "What did I say? Our _bonnes fortunes_ are about to begin. We are going to have some sport now! We are quite good-looking enough for that."

As he dressed, Cherubin thought of the pretty woman with whom he was soon to be alone for the first time; he was not very composed in mind, for he was wondering what he should say to her. He was well pleased to have the a.s.signation, but he regretted that Monfreville was not there to tell him how one should behave with a lady of the most fashionable set, who invites one to read poetry to her.

It was too late for him to consult Monfreville; the appointed hour was drawing nigh. Cherubin completed his toilet, but did not notice that Jasmin had saturated him with perfumery: his coat was scented with essence of rose, his waistcoat with patchouli, his handkerchief with Portugal water; and, in addition, all his other garments smelt of musk.

He looked himself over, concluded that he was becomingly arrayed, stepped into his tilbury, and soon reached the countess's abode.

He was admitted by the same maid, and instead of taking him to the salon, she led him through several secret pa.s.sages to a delicious boudoir, where the light was so soft and mysterious that one could scarcely see. However, after a few seconds, Cherubin's eyes became accustomed to that doubtful light, and he spied the pretty countess half-reclining on a couch at the back of a little curtained recess, which seemed intended to perform the functions of an alcove.

Cherubin made a low bow and said:

"I beg pardon, madame, but I did not see you at first, it is so dark here."

"Do you think so?" rejoined the fair Emma affectedly. "I don't like broad daylight, it tires my eyes.--It is very kind of you, Monsieur Cherubin, to consent to sacrifice a few moments to me--you are in such great demand everywhere!"

"It is a great pleasure to me, madame, and I--I--really I cannot promise to read poetry very well. I am not much used to it."

The countess smiled and motioned him to a seat beside her. Cherubin was exceedingly perturbed in spirit as he entered the delicious little recess and seated himself on the couch, which was not very broad, so that he was necessarily very close to the other person upon it.

There was a moment's silence. Emma, flattered by Cherubin's evident emotion and embarra.s.sment in her presence, decided to begin the conversation, which she was not accustomed to do.

"How do you like my boudoir?"

"Exceedingly pretty, madame; but it seems to me to be a little dark for reading poetry."

The little lady arched her eyebrows slightly and rejoined: