Le Cocu Part 7

"There are some ladies here, however, who might prefer a half light."

She contented herself with smiling.

"You have not sung, mademoiselle?"

"I beg pardon, monsieur, I sang one song."

"Then it must have been before I came. That makes me deeply regret that I came so late."

"You didn't lose much, monsieur."

"I cannot believe you as to that; but if--Ah! it's your turn."

The figure interrupted our conversation; it was most annoying, for perhaps we had made a real start.

After the figure I tried to renew the conversation.

"Will you not sing again, mademoiselle?"

"I sincerely hope not; I have paid my debt and that is enough."

"Are you not fond of music?"

"Yes, very fond of it,--with people whom I know. I do not see the necessity of entertaining people whom one has never seen, and who often listen only from politeness."

"You judge society already with----"

The deuce! another figure. At last the final figure came and the dance was at an end. No matter, I had had an opportunity to decide that the young woman was not a fool. Perhaps she would not have said as much of me.

I seized Giraud as he was about to turn up his lamps, which were already beginning to go out.

"You saw me dancing with that young lady opposite us?"

"Yes."

"Well, it was my partner whom I was asking you about just now."

"Oho! that is Mademoiselle Eugenie Dumeillan."

"Who is Mademoiselle Dumeillan?"

"She is the daughter of Madame Dumeillan, who is sitting beside her."

"My dear Monsieur Giraud, I have no doubt that that young lady is the daughter of her father and her mother; but when I ask you who she is, I mean, what sort of people are they? What do they do? In short, I ask in order to learn something about them. How is it that you, who are a mine of information, do not understand that?"

"I do, I do. But, you see, she isn't on my list of marriageable women.

However, she is of marriageable age, but they haven't begun to think about it yet; whereas that tall brunette yonder, in a turban--my dear fellow, she has a hundred thousand francs in cash. That's not bad, is it? Ah! if I were not married!--Wife, look after your son Alexandre; he will upset the tea-things, and all the cups will meet the fate of the gla.s.ses!"

"My dear Monsieur Giraud, I care very little about the amount of that tall brunette's dowry. Can you tell me anything more about the ladies opposite?"

"I beg your pardon. The mother is a widow; Monsieur Dumeillan was deputy chief in some department or other, I don't know what one; however, he was a deputy chief and he left his widow four or five thousand francs a year, I believe. Mademoiselle Eugenie has had an excellent education; she is an accomplished musician and she will also have something that an aunt has left her; I don't know just how much, but I can find out. She will not be a bad match; she's an only daughter. Would you like me to speak in your name?"

"Don't play any such trick as that on me! Who in the devil said that I proposed to marry? Can't a man open his mouth about a woman without thinking of marrying her?"

"I don't say no; but as one must come to that at last----"

"Papa, my brother Theodore is stuffing pieces of sugared orange into his pocket."

It was Mademoiselle Giraud who made this announcement. Giraud left me to whip his older son. Thereupon Belan approached me.

"Haven't you told Giraud to ask me to sing, that he doesn't mention it?"

"Mon Dieu, Belan, let us alone with your singing! We've had quite enough of it! We prefer to dance."

"That is because you have not heard me; I know very well that I should have given pleasure; I learned a tune on purpose. By the way, you don't know--Helene treats me coldly, yes, very coldly; she doesn't like it because I ran away so suddenly when I saw her husband. Can you imagine such a thing? As if I could guess that she would invent a story on the instant! However, she can be mad if she chooses, it's all one to me; I no longer care for her in the least; I still see her putting her hand in my eye when we tipped over. She wasn't pretty then. I have views on that little woman in black yonder--do you see, a stout party, with an ardent glance; that is promising."

"But she is married; her husband is playing ecarte; he is a receiver in the Registration Office."

"Good! so much the better, we will play some fine tricks on the receiver."

More dancing; this time Mademoiselle Eugenie was at the piano. She played with much ease and taste. I regretted that I was not a musician; I had given painting the preference. Painting is a delightful art, but it does not afford the same advantages in society as music. In a salon, people will neglect the painter to pet and coddle the musician: in truth, one does not always think of dancing and singing.

The quadrille was only half through when the two lamps went out once more. The last two figures were danced in a half light, or rather in semi-darkness. Everybody laughed while Madame Giraud scolded her husband, and he exclaimed:

"Faith! I give it up, I am wasting my time. Theodore, tell the maid to bring more candles."

Theodore left the salon, but only to pay a visit to the sideboard in the dining-room. A third contradance was formed without any improvement in the light; it began, accompanied by the cries of Madame Giraud, still calling for more candles; by the lamentations of Giraud, who kept raising and lowering the wicks of his lamps to no purpose; by the howling of the three children who were quarrelling over the sweetmeats, and by the barking of the dog, who escorted all the departing guests to the door, yelping at their heels.

Belan, who was dancing opposite the stout party, paid little heed to the noise and thought only of performing his figures; but the semi-darkness which reigned in the salon prevented him from seeing a slice of orange which Monsieur Theodore had dropped from his pocket; as he tried to execute a slide, Belan slid in good earnest, and fell between the legs of his vis-a-vis.

The ladies shrieked with terror. Belan rose, holding his side and swearing that he would not have fallen if he had not trodden upon something. The little Giraud girl picked up the crushed slice of orange and cried:

"It was my brother who threw that on the floor."

And the father left the salon, giving Belan his word that his son should be punished when everybody had gone.

That contradance was the last; the candles threatened to follow the example of the lamps, and the dancers were afraid of falling in with slices of orange when they balanced their partners.

Everybody departed. I went downstairs at the same time as Mademoiselle Dumeillan and her mother. I offered the latter my hand, while looking at the daughter only; I a.s.sisted them into a cab and bowed. That was as far as I could go at a first meeting.

I heard someone laughing and humming behind me. It was Belan, following the lady in black and her husband; as he pa.s.sed he whispered in my ear:

"I am following her, it's all right. As for La Montdidier, that is all over, it's broken off, we are sworn enemies. Adieu, I must pursue my conquest."

A moment later Montdidier and his wife pa.s.sed, accompanied by a tall, fair-haired youth who had stood behind madame's chair all the evening.

I smiled as I remembered Belan's purpose to be virtuous, and I could not forbear exclaiming: