"I don't see why you should be tired."

"Madame de Valdieri keeps looking at me with that contemptuous expression; I prefer to go."

So Cherubin disappeared from the salons and went home, thinking exclusively of Madame Celival, and engrossed by the appointment she had made with him for the next day.

XXII

THE PLUMS

One wakes early when one is in love and has an a.s.signation with the object of one's love. It is not absolutely certain that Cherubin loved Madame Celival; indeed, it is probable that he felt for all his conquests only those fleeting desires which all young men feel in the presence of a pretty woman; a form of disease with which we often continue to be afflicted when we have attained the age of maturity, and of which it is very pleasant to be unable to cure oneself as one grows old. But Cherubin was still too inexperienced to be able to draw distinctions in his sensations; he believed himself to be pa.s.sionately in love with Madame Celival.

He was no sooner awake than he rang. Jasmin, despite his years, was always one of the first to answer his master's bell; but Cherubin did not desire his services again to a.s.sist him to dress.

"You made a fine mess of it yesterday, Jasmin," he said.

"What did I do, monsieur?" asked the old servant, dismayed by Cherubin's irritated manner.

"Why, you drenched me with perfumery, Jasmin; you put it on all my clothes; I was a regular walking scent-bag."

"Did not monsieur smell good?"

"Why, yes! I smelt too good--that is to say, too strong! In fact, I went to people's heads. Nervous ladies can't endure that sort of thing, and you are responsible for a lady's fainting away. It was exceedingly unpleasant."

Jasmin was in despair. To repair his blunder of the previous day, he suggested putting camphor in all his master's pockets, because he had been told that that was very good for the nerves, and he supposed that it would cure the illnesses caused by perfumery. But Cherubin would not have it; he expressly forbade Jasmin to perfume him in any way, and he was obliged to lose his temper in order to deter his old servant from slipping lumps of camphor into his pockets.

When his toilet was completed, Cherubin a.s.sured himself that he did not smell of anything at all; and, while waiting for the hour at which he was to go to Madame Celival's, he thought about the lovely widow and went over in his mind what he could say to her. The thing that worried him most was the breakfasting with her.

"When you breakfast with a lady you're in love with," he said to himself, "I wonder if you should eat, if you should satisfy your appet.i.te? Mon Dieu! I forgot to ask Monfreville for instructions on that point. I'm afraid I shall make more stupid blunders.--But after all, what is it that I am always blamed for? For being too timid. If I don't eat, I shall look like a fool; on the other hand, if I eat and drink freely, it will give me a.s.surance and presumption. Yes, I certainly must eat."

The breakfast hour arrived at last. Cherubin betook himself to Madame Celival's; his heart throbbed violently as he followed the maid to the boudoir, but he said to himself:

"Well, I won't be timid to-day, at all events, and I'll eat a lot."

The fair widow's boudoir was a charming retreat, hung on all sides with violet velvet. A soft, thick carpet covered the floor, and the threefold curtains allowed very little light to enter.

"Evidently these ladies are very fond of the darkness," thought Cherubin, as he entered the room; "but I am not to read poetry to-day, and I can see well enough to eat breakfast. And then, I understand--the darkness should make one bolder--that is the reason, no doubt, why these ladies expel the daylight from their rooms."

Madame Celival was awaiting Cherubin; her dress was simple, but well adapted to display her good points to advantage: her lovely black hair fell in long curls on each side of her face, and the amaranthine bows that adorned the dainty little cap she wore gave even more animation to her eyes, which were full of fire.

The fascinating widow gave Cherubin such a pleasant welcome that any other than he would at once have felt at his ease. He did what he could to overcome his embarra.s.sment, and the most judicious thing that he did was to stand in rapt contemplation of the charms of his hostess.

"Well, Monsieur Cherubin," said Madame Celival, after a moment, "what do you think of my boudoir? not so pretty as the countess's, I suppose?"

"Why, yes, madame, yes, I a.s.sure you, I like yours quite as well--in fact, I think it even prettier."

"Oh! you say that to flatter me!"

"But they are equally dark."

"A bright light makes my eyes ache; I detest it."

"But, madame, you should not dread being seen; when one is so lovely----"

Cherubin dared not go on; he was tremendously surprised that he had said so much; but Madame Celival, to whom the compliment seemed quite natural, replied with a smile:

"Really! do you think me lovely? Oh! but it costs you men so little to say things that you don't mean!"

And, as she spoke, Madame Celival leaned carelessly on the cushion of the violet velvet couch on which she was half-reclining, and her bosom rose and fell rapidly as she gazed at Cherubin, who was sitting on a chair by her side; he lowered his eyes, dared not look at her, and held his peace.

After a long pause, Madame Celival, finding that Cherubin did not speak, exclaimed:

"But I am forgetting our breakfast! Perhaps you are hungry?"

"Why yes, madame, I am very hungry," Cherubin at once replied.

"And it seems that your appet.i.te deprives you of the power of speech,"

said Madame Celival with a smile. "Mon Dieu! why didn't you remind me? I don't want to see you fall dead from starvation. Please ring that bell."

Cherubin pulled a cord and a maid appeared.

"Serve breakfast," said Madame Celival.--"We will breakfast here," she added, turning to Cherubin, "because then we shall not be disturbed by anybody; if any unwelcome visitor calls, they will say that I'm not at home. Do you think that I have done well?"

"Oh, yes, madame, it will be much pleasanter!"

Madame Celival smiled again; perhaps she thought that their tete-a-tete would become pleasanter; but this is mere conjecture.

The maid quickly laid the table with two covers. Cherubin noticed that she placed the dessert on a small table beside the large one, which was covered with dishes.

Then Madame Celival dismissed her, saying:

"If I want you, I will ring.--And now," said the fascinating brunette, offering her hand to the young man, who continued to gaze at her admiringly, "take your seat, monsieur le marquis, and excuse me for treating you so unceremoniously; but this is not a formal breakfast."

Madame Celival's informal breakfast consisted of a _terrine de Nerac_, a stuffed partridge, small birds _aux pistaches_, and a superb dish of crabs; and on the small table were pastry, preserves, and a compote of plums, for dessert; lastly, several decanters of choice wines indicated that the hostess did not propose that her young guest should retain his self-possession unimpaired.

Cherubin was seated beside Madame Celival, who helped him to everything, but ate very little; by way of compensation, the young man ate for two.

After he was at the table, he felt much less embarra.s.sed, more inclined to talk; he concluded that he had guessed aright, and that to eat and drink freely would give him a.s.surance; so he did honor to everything that was set before him and drank whatever was poured into his gla.s.s.

Madame Celival was very lively; she knew the art of keeping the conversation from flagging; and she seemed delighted by the way in which her companion did honor to the breakfast.

"Really," she said laughingly, "I am not surprised that you didn't say anything just now, that you seemed so taciturn! It was because you were dying of hunger."

"It is true, madame, that I have an excellent appet.i.te; and then, with you, it seems to me that one must needs always be hungry."

"Oh! I don't feel sure whether I ought to take that for a compliment or not! There is a proverb which would rather work against me."