"I will obey, mademoiselle," she replied; "doubtless madame your mother has good reasons for wishing me not to do it. Ala! I am afraid that I can guess them: she doesn't like to see me; my presence annoys her; I will obey, she shall not see me."

Ernestine did not feel equal to contradicting her; for, knowing that her mother had once intended to dismiss Louise, she believed that the girl had guessed aright. She simply pressed her hand, then left her, because the time had come when the guests would probably begin to arrive.

Monsieur de Noirmont had invited more men than ladies; however, the wife of a certain advocate arrived with her husband; she was a tall, large woman, of much pretension, very fond of listening to herself talk, but, to balance matters, little inclined to listen to others.

Another lady, young and rosy and affable, formed a striking contrast to the first; she was the wife of a solicitor, who had just married in order to pay for his office. The advocate had married the tall lady so that he could afford to wait for clients. In society nowadays a marriage is a matter of business, seldom of sympathetic sentiments.

A few serious men, two young exquisites, and Monsieur Trichet, whom we have met before at Madame Celival's, completed the party. Monsieur de Noirmont received his guests with his customary phlegmatic manner.

Madame de Noirmont, who had made the best of it and had resigned herself to receive all that company, tried not to allow her ennui to appear; she did the honors of her salon with much grace; she forced herself to smile; she was able, when she chose, to address a pleasant word to each guest; and they were all the more pleased because they were not used to it.

Ernestine recovered her spirits when she saw that her mother seemed to have recovered hers; at her age small vexations are soon forgotten; she loved company, and of late she had had so few opportunities to enjoy herself, that she joyfully seized every one that presented itself. As the young lady of the house, she listened to those complimentary remarks which it is not safe to believe, but which are always pleasant to the ear. They said that she had grown and improved; they did not say it to her, but they said it to her parents loud enough for her to hear. Madame de Noirmont listened indifferently to the compliments paid to her daughter, but Monsieur de Noirmont was enchanted by them.

Monsieur Trichet was the same as always: talking all the time, determined to know everything, taking part in every conversation, and with his ear always on the alert to hear what was being said in all the corners of the salon; that man was kept very busy in company.

Comtois announced that dinner was served, and the whole company adjourned to the dining-room. They took their seats and began to eat, with the silence of good breeding, which is sometimes maintained until the dessert.

The first course was still in progress when Monsieur de Noirmont, not being served quickly enough, looked about the room and said to Comtois:

"Where is the maid? why is she not a.s.sisting you? I am not surprised that the service is so slow! What is she doing, pray? Didn't you tell her that she was to wait at table?"

Comtois was sadly embarra.s.sed; when he called Louise, she told him what orders she had received from her mistress. He twisted his tongue about, and answered half audibly:

"Monsieur--I--madame said that--that it was unnecessary for----"

Monsieur de Noirmont did not allow Comtois to finish his sentence; he rejoined shortly:

"Tell Louise to come at once; she must help you serve."

Comtois did not wait for the order to be repeated, especially as he was very glad, in the bottom of his heart, to have the girl a.s.sist him.

Madame de Noirmont looked at her plate and turned ghastly pale; Ernestine gazed anxiously from her father to her mother; and Monsieur Trichet, who had comments to make on everything, exclaimed:

"Ah! so you have a lady's maid who doesn't want to serve at table? You are perfectly right to compel her to do it. Servants are amazing nowadays! If we listened to them they would do nothing at all, and we should pay them high wages! I am curious to see your lady's maid."

Louise's arrival put an end to these remarks. The girl was much embarra.s.sed when she received the order sent through Comtois; she hesitated to follow him at first, but Comtois said:

"You must come, mademoiselle; monsieur says so, and when he gives an order, you must obey."

So Louise decided to go with the valet. The thought that she was going to vex her mistress by obeying her master's commands caused her very great distress; so that she entered the room with downcast eyes and with her cheeks flushing hotly. But she was all the prettier so, and most of the guests seemed impressed by her beauty.

"Upon my word," said Monsieur Trichet, "this girl would have done very wrong not to show herself! I have seen few servants so pretty.--What is that you are saying, Monsieur Dernange? Oh! I hear you: you said: 'A Greek profile.'--True, very like it. But Greek or not, it is very distinguished for the profile of a lady's maid."

The two young men did not make their reflections aloud, like Monsieur Trichet, but they seemed not to weary of gazing at Louise, and they were delighted to have their plates changed by her.

The tall, pretentious lady cast a disdainful glance at Louise and muttered:

"I cannot understand how anyone can call a servant pretty!"

"That girl is fascinating!" cried the other lady; "and she has such a modest air! Everything about her speaks in her favor."

"Oho!" said Monsieur Trichet, "it isn't safe to trust to such airs; they're often very deceptive. I know what I am talking about; I have had two hundred maids, and they have all stolen from me."

Madame de Noirmont made no reply to all these reflections inspired by the sight of her pretty lady's maid. But it was plain that she was suffering, that she was holding herself back, that she was doing her utmost to appear calm and amiable as before.

Ernestine was no longer in a merry mood, for she saw that something was wrong with her mother.

As for Monsieur de Noirmont, content to be obeyed, he turned his attention to his guests and did not observe his wife's pallor.

The subject of conversation soon changed however, and Madame de Noirmont was able to breathe a little more freely.

Louise performed her duty as well as she could, lowering her eyes when she pa.s.sed her mistress, not daring to look at her, and taking care never to stand opposite her.

But suddenly Cherubin's name fell on the girl's ear. Monsieur Trichet, speaking of a reception at the Comtesse de Valdieri's, observed:

"The young Marquis de Grandvilain was not there. I have noticed too that he doesn't go to Madame Celival's any more. That seems strange to me, for everybody knows that the little marquis was making love to those ladies; he is still too new at the game to conceal his feelings; he used to stare at them too much--it was absurd."

At that moment Louise had in her hands a plate of chicken with olives, which she had been told to carry to the advocate's tall wife. But when she heard Cherubin's name, Louise forgot what she was doing; she dropped the plate on the pretentious lady's shoulder, and a large portion of chicken with olives fell on that lady's dress.

"What a stupid idiot you are!" cried the tall lady, with a savage glance at Louise. "If you don't know how to pa.s.s a plate, you should stay in your kitchen."

Louise stood like a statue, confused and distressed. The men, thinking her prettier than ever, tried to excuse her; Ernestine rose hastily and wiped the lady's dress, which it did not even occur to Louise to do. As for Madame de Noirmont, when she heard Louise called stupid and an idiot, her eyebrows contracted and her eyes shot fire for an instant; she half rose, then fell back in her chair, as if she were dead.

Monsieur Trichet, who was beside her, exclaimed:

"Madame de Noirmont is certainly ill.--Do you feel ill, madame?"

"It is nothing, I hope," said Madame de Noirmont, rising; "just an ill turn; I will go and take a breath of air."

Ernestine was already beside her mother; she supported her, gave her her arm, and they left the dining-room together.

This episode caused Louise's awkwardness to be forgotten, although the tall lady continued to grumble about her dress; but n.o.body seemed to listen to her. After ten minutes Madame de Noirmont returned to the table. She was still very pale, but she insisted that she no longer suffered. The dinner came to an end dismally enough; the accident that had happened to the mistress of the house had dispelled all merriment.

They returned to the salon. The men conversed among themselves, and the tall lady thought of nothing but her damaged gown. Madame de Noirmont forced herself to smile as she listened to Monsieur Trichet; Ernestine kept her eyes on her mother, and the young men looked frequently toward the door, disappointed that the pretty lady's maid did not appear again.

A game of whist was organized, but it was not kept up very long, and the guests took their leave well before midnight, because Madame de Noirmont was ill and must need rest.

It was two hours after midnight. All the members of Monsieur de Noirmont's household had long since withdrawn to their apartments, and should have been buried in slumber. Louise, still excited by the emotions of the day, had just closed her eyes, thinking of Cherubin, who was said to have been in love with two women.

Suddenly someone opened the door of her room, and entered cautiously, holding a light. Louise opened her eyes and recognized Madame de Noirmont, in her night dress, as pale as she had been at dinner; she walked to the bed after pausing to listen and make sure that no one was following her.

"Mon Dieu! is it you, madame?" cried Louise; "can it be that you are ill? that you need my services?--I will get up at once."

"Stay where you are, and listen to me."

As she spoke, Madame de Noirmont went to the door and closed it, then returned to the bed, sat down beside it, took Louise's hand and pressed it in both of hers, saying in a broken voice:

"Louise, you must leave this house, unless you want me to die--to die of grief. Oh! my suffering has been horrible! and I feel that I shall not have the strength to endure it any longer."

"What! can it be that I am the cause of your suffering, madame? Indeed I will go; yes, be sure of it. Mon Dieu! if I had known it sooner, I would have gone long ago and spared you much annoyance. Forgive me; for, far from seeking to make you unhappy, I would give my life to prove my zealous attachment to you. But no matter--I will go."