The White House Part 73

Thereupon the newcomers would congratulate the marquis, then Robineau, and after looking about to see if there were anyone else to congratulate, would take seats in the salon. But it seemed as if all those people had agreed beforehand not to smile, and as if it were the general opinion in the provinces that it was bad form to be cheerful on a wedding-day. So that it was necessary to try to kill time by talking upon insignificant subjects with people who were able to discuss nothing else. Alfred did what he could to enliven the conversation; but he himself was disturbed, and the remembrance of his experience in the tower occupied his mind more than Robineau's marriage. Edouard, too, tried to make himself agreeable, but he cursed under his breath the length of the day.

Two hours had elapsed since the ladies had gone upstairs, when they finally appeared in the salon. Cornelie's costume was more coquettish than that of the morning, and this time Robineau was so dazzled that he was obliged to sit down for fear that he would be dizzy. The compliments began to circulate anew. During the curtsies and the salutations, Robineau went to a corner of the salon to rub his temples with cologne; then he returned with a somewhat less timid air to his wife, who was attentive to everybody but her husband.

Monsieur Ferulus, who had not yet delivered his congratulations to the newly-married pair, because he was waiting until all the company should be a.s.sembled, took his place in front of Cornelie, before whom he bowed to the floor, and presented her with a roll of paper tied with pink ribbons, saying:

"Permit me, madame, while adding the incense of my good wishes to the perfume of the congratulations which have already shed fragrance upon your pa.s.sage, to dedicate to you this trifle, born of your marriage. May Laughter and Sport gambol ever about your couch! and may heaven bestow upon you children, masculine, feminine and neuter, whose tutor I shall be!"

The librarian's offering created a great sensation; the men smiled, the ladies asked one another in undertones what neuter children were; and Robineau, who had gone once more to rub his temples with cologne, seemed to have resolved that he would procreate no others.

Cornelie took the paper with a patronizing air, and then returned it to Ferulus, saying:

"You must read it to us at dessert."

The servants having announced that dinner was served, the company pa.s.sed into the dining-room, marching in time, like Prussian soldiers.

Monsieur de la Pincerie appropriated the great armchair. Cornelie was seated opposite her husband, and Ferulus was relegated to the further end of the table, where he was not allowed either to serve or to carve; such was the order of things established by Madame de la Roche-Noire, who did not seem particularly touched by the verses which the scholar had written for her. Monsieur Ferulus said nothing; he devoured that affront in secret, and determined to eat, if possible, four times as much as usual. People who endure humiliation in order to enjoy a good dinner always have little courage and much appet.i.te.

The dinner pa.s.sed off as seriously as all that had gone before. The first course was interrupted only by a slight accident: Monsieur Mignon came near swallowing a pin which had fallen from his sleeve into his plate; but they succeeded in removing it from his throat with small pincers, and tranquillity was soon restored.

Mademoiselle Cheval had surpa.s.sed herself; the repast was magnificent.

But Robineau ate little; he seemed absent-minded and restless; and when he looked at his wife, he heaved sighs capable of extinguis.h.i.+ng the candles. Cornelie had already a.s.sumed the manners of the mistress of the house: she issued orders in a tone which announced to the servants that they must walk straight. As they did not intend to dance after dinner, and as it was probable that the evening would be rather tedious, they remained a long time at table. Toward the close of the banquet, the fumes of the wines, which were frequently changed, enlivened the guests a bit. The old annuitant recounted an ancient jest or two in an undertone; the Chevalier de Tantignac declared that he would give half his fortune to be in Robineau's place; and Monsieur Berlingue declared that his fortune was as fabulous as his horse. Robineau drank a great deal, to banish his timidity, and to muster courage to look at his wife; and even Uncle Mignon, who had forgotten his accident, became animated and talked a little; lastly, monsieur le marquis laughed more than once at the jokes which he made, and which he alone understood.

Monsieur Ferulus thought that the time had come for him to read his poetry; he looked at Robineau to know whether he should begin; but it was no longer Robineau who gave orders, it was Madame de la Roche-Noire.

However, Cornelie herself said:

"Monsieur has, I believe, something to read to us; I trust that it will not be so long as his last ballad."

"I flatter myself, madame, that you will find, on the contrary, that it is too short," replied Ferulus, who was not overjoyed at this reference to his last ballad. Then, taking the roll from his pocket, and untying the ribbon, he rose and began:

"Compliment in verse in honor of the union of the newly-married pair."

"It seems to me, monsieur," said the marquis, "that you would have done well to say: the union of Mademoiselle Cornelie, daughter of the Marquis de la Pincerie, with Monsieur de la Roche-Noire; that would have been more becoming than to say 'the newly-married pair,' exactly as if you were talking about Jacquot and Pierrette!"

"My n.o.ble father-in-law is right," said Robineau, "I don't like 'the newly-married pair.'"

"Monsieur," replied Ferulus, dissembling his mortification, "that phrase is strictly grammatical; you will find it in Lh.o.m.ond, in Wailly, in Boiste, and in all the dictionaries."

"Oh! for heaven's sake, monsieur, don't talk about dictionaries!" cried Eudoxie; "it seems to me that to-day you should talk to us of something pleasant and attractive."

"Therefore, madame," continued Ferulus, "I have taken for the text of my trifle, this line from Propertius:

"'Nec domina ulla meo ponet vestigia lecto.'"

"And what may that mean?" said Cornelie; "for it seems to me that you would do better to give us a translation of it."

"Yes," said Robineau, "he is a terrible fellow for that! I have told him a hundred times that I cared for nothing but translations."

"Madame," rejoined Ferulus, with an amiable smile, "that means: 'No other mistress shall disturb my bed.'"

"Mon Dieu! how shocking! how indecent!" cried Eudoxie, hiding her face behind Alfred's shoulder.

"What, monsieur!" said Cornelie; "you presume to compose such loose verses!"

"Madame, I have the honor to inform you that the author is Propertius, and that----"

"No mistress in his bed!" cried the Marquis de la Pincerie. "Corbleu! I would like to see--Son-in-law, what is the meaning of this allusion?"

"I swear to you, father-in-law, that I have no idea," said Robineau; "I do not understand Monsieur Ferulus's motive in perpetrating such a wretched jest!"

"Monsieur," said Ferulus, "I say again that that is the translation of the line, and that----"

"Very well, monsieur, that will do," said Cornelie; "after such a beginning, I do not care to hear any more! If the remainder corresponds with the text, it cannot be repeated to ladies."

"But, madame, allow me to call your attention----"

"No remarks, monsieur," said Monsieur de la Pincerie, rising from his chair as if he proposed to chastise the scholar; "you have been told that your poem is good for nothing. I am inclined to think that you are not here to lay down the law, monsieur!"

Ferulus dropped back on his chair, crumpled the paper in his hands and threw it under the table; and, stuffing three macaroons into his mouth at once in his wrath, he narrowly escaped swallowing his tongue. Uncle Mignon, who had drunk more than usual, and had been moving about uneasily on his chair for half an hour, began to laugh.

"I, too, have made up a little ballad for my niece," he said. "It came into my head at the dinner-table. It's an impromptu."

"Let us hear Mignon's ballad," said Monsieur de la Pincerie. "The devil!

I didn't know that he wrote poetry.--Sing, Mignon."

Everybody was silent, and Mignon sang, playing with his napkin the while:

"Sois heureuse, ma niece, C'est du meilleur de mon ame; Lorsque j'admire tes yeux, Turc lure!

Il me semble etre a la noce!

Robin turelure lure!"

"Bravo! very good!" cried the marquis; and everybody applauded, laughed and called for an encore. Mignon repeated his verses, and Monsieur de la Pincerie observed:

"There you have the genuine French ballad--after the style of our fathers. They are blank verses, to be sure, but they are none the less agreeable."

Ferulus, his discomfiture completed by the success of Monsieur Mignon's ballad, muttered between his teeth:

"If one of my scholars had written that thing, he would have been whipped every day for a fortnight!"

The company left the table to go to the salon. Ferulus alone did not go thither; he went off to bed, saying to himself:

"They needn't expect me to play whist. I won't open my door."

But a whist table was made up without the librarian; there was also a game of piquet and one of chess; in fact, the evening pa.s.sed very quietly, and one might have thought that the host and hostess had been married twenty years.

But Robineau, who had obtained leave not to play, left the salon several times; he still seemed restless and distraught, although, as he looked at his wife, he kept repeating:

"She has never seemed to me so fascinating as she does to-night! My love is becoming more and more pa.s.sionate."

In one of his excursions from the salon, Robineau went to his apartment, which his wife was to occupy with him thenceforth. It was quite cold, but no fire had been built in the nuptial chamber, and the groom said to himself: