"Do you like Madame Celival's boudoir better?"

"Madame Celival's boudoir? Why, I have never been in it, madame; I don't know what it is like."

"Oh! what a fib!"

"I a.s.sure you, madame----"

"You are lying!--However, I cannot blame you; discretion is the first condition one should exact in love."

"Discretion----"

"Oh! you play the innocent to perfection; but I am not taken in by that ingenuous air. Mon Dieu! there is such a strong smell of perfumery here--a mixture of scents. Have you essence of rose about you?"

"Rose? I don't know; it is possible. Does it affect you unpleasantly?"

"My nerves are so sensitive! but it will pa.s.s away."

The pretty countess lay back a moment, put her handkerchief to her face, and drew a long breath.

Cherubin looked at her, and dared not stir. There was another long pause; the young man would have liked to say a mult.i.tude of things, but, as he did not know how to express himself, he inquired at last:

"Is your husband well, madame?"

The pretty creature burst into laughter which seemed a little forced, and replied:

"Yes, monsieur, my husband is singing! So long as he is making music, that is all that he wants.--Mon Dieu! there's a smell of patchouli here, too, and musk. Ah! it gives me a sort of vertigo!"

And whether as a result of the vertigo, or for some other reason, the young woman half-reclined against Cherubin, so that her face almost touched his, and he would have had to move very little nearer to kiss her; but, deeply moved to find that lovely mouth so near to him that he could almost feel her breath, he dared not move a muscle, and finally he faltered:

"Madame, I believe that I was to read poetry to you."

The little countess abruptly raised her head and rested it on the back of the couch, as she replied with a touch of spite in her voice:

"Mon Dieu! what a memory you have, monsieur!--Well, take that alb.u.m in front of you and read."

Cherubin took up an alb.u.m that lay on a chair, opened it and saw a medley of drawings, poems, portraits--everything, in short, that one finds in a woman's alb.u.m; and, after turning the leaves a moment, he glanced at the countess and asked timidly:

"What do you want me to read to you, madame?"

"Mon Dieu! whatever you choose, it makes no difference to me!"

Cherubin opened the alb.u.m again, at random, and read:

"Fair countess, on this page, You bid me pen some verse: Quick your commands engage; For you the universe Would rhyme.--But clear to see My lines good sense ignore.

How could it other be?

You've reft me of its store."

"Oh! that is that absurd Monsieur Dalbonne!" murmured Madame de Valdieri, twisting about impatiently on the couch. "He is forever writing such nonsense; he adores all women.--Are you like that, Monsieur Cherubin?"

"I, madame!" Cherubin replied in confusion; "oh, no! I--I--But I continue:

"'STORY OF A MOUSE.'"

"Ah! this is much longer."

The fair Emma, who evidently did not care to hear the story of a mouse read at length, and who thought that Cherubin was making sport of her, determined to resort to violent measures; she fell back on the couch, murmuring:

"Oh! I can't stand it any longer! these different scents set my nerves on edge; I am fainting!"

Cherubin uttered a cry of alarm, dropped the alb.u.m, and gazed at the lovely blonde, who had chosen the most bewitching att.i.tude that a coquette could devise in which to faint, and whose half-closed eyes wore an expression which did not indicate any very serious danger. But instead of admiring it all, Cherubin rose and ran about the room, looking for smelling-bottles and crying:

"Great G.o.d! you are losing consciousness, and I am the cause of it! I am so distressed. I will call for help."

"No, no, monsieur, just unlace me!" murmured the countess, with a sigh.

"Unlace you! Why, I don't know how; still, if you think----"

And Cherubin returned to the pretty creature, to do what she suggested; and she, seeing him lean over her, closed her eyes altogether, presuming that that would give him more courage and that he would succeed at last in behaving himself more becomingly; but, when he saw that the countess had closed her eyes entirely, Cherubin jumped back, ran to a bell cord and jerked it violently, and cried:

"She has fainted completely! what a bungler I am! As it's this perfumery that I have about me that has caused Madame de Valdieri's illness, of course she won't recover consciousness so long as I am here."

The maid appeared, vastly surprised to be summoned so suddenly. Cherubin pointed to her mistress stretched out on the couch, and said:

"Come quickly and attend to madame la comtesse. I am going away; the perfumery I have about me is what made her feel faint, so of course I must not stay with her. Pray tell her that I am terribly distressed at what has happened."

And Cherubin took his hat and hastened from the boudoir, leaving the lady's maid in utter amazement and the pretty little countess with her eyes wide open.

Cherubin returned home, cursing Jasmin for turning him into a perfumery booth. He found Monfreville waiting for him, and told him what had happened.

When the young marquis had concluded, Monfreville looked at him with a curious expression, and said:

"My dear fellow, I have always been perfectly frank with you, and I must tell you therefore that in this whole business you acted like an idiot."

"An idiot!" cried Cherubin.

"Yes, like the most idiotic of idiots! When a young and pretty woman deigns to receive you alone in her boudoir, it is with the purpose of having you make love to her, not to read. The poetry was only a pretext."

"Do you think so? Mon Dieu! I had that idea, too, but I dared not venture to think--But if she had not fainted----"

"Why, that was the time above all others when victory was in your grasp.

What! a lovely woman tells you to unlace her, and you ring for her maid!

Ah! my poor Cherubin, if this adventure becomes known, it will do you a deal of harm in society."

"Great heaven! you distress me! But I didn't know--However, I will repair my blunder; in the first place, the next time that I go to see the lovely Emma in her boudoir, I will have no perfumery at all; and then--oh! I will be very enterprising."

"I trust that you may be able to set yourself right with the countess, but I doubt it."

"Why so?"