San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 73

Madame Plays affected a languorous air, as she replied:

"It is true--I haven't been into society for a long while! Ah! I would like never to return to it."

"What! shun society at your age, madame, when you have been its brightest ornament! Why, that is not lawful; it's a crime, it's downright robbery!--Would you allow it, Monsieur Plays?"

Monsieur Plays tried to imitate his wife's manner, as he said:

"My wife took me with her to one of our estates; it was very dull; there were only we two, and we had no visitors; for we didn't tell anybody where we were going, we went off all of a sudden, as if we were ashamed of it. But still, when something has happened to afflict one--you understand--and my wife certainly had good cause for tears in----"

Madame Plays pinched her husband's arm, and whispered:

"Hus.h.!.+ that's enough; hus.h.!.+ Who asked you to say that?"

Monsieur Plays held his peace, and pretended to have a paroxysm of coughing as an excuse for not finis.h.i.+ng his sentence. Monsieur Grazcernitz took the fair Herminie's hand and led her to a seat on a divan, with divers other ladies, with whom she soon entered into conversation.

But after a few seconds, the lady at the robust creature's right rose and walked into another salon; in a short time, the lady at her left likewise rose and vanished, and the fair Herminie was left alone on the divan. Thereupon several young men approached her and favored her with an a.s.sortment of the insipid, commonplace flatteries of which such a prodigious supply is ordinarily consumed in fas.h.i.+onable salons.

A young man who had talked with Madame Plays a few minutes left her abruptly, and observed to one of his friends:

"That's a most extraordinary thing; I can't understand it."

"What do you mean?"

"You see that lady over there, with whom I was talking just now?"

"Madame Plays?"

"Yes. Well, my dear fellow, I can't imagine what kind of perfume she has about her, but it's absolutely insufferable."

"The deuce you say!"

"It's like the smell of stale tobacco; it's perfectly sickening."

"Impossible."

"Look! there's Alfred leaving her now; let's see what he says.--Alfred!"

"What is it?"

"You were just talking with Madame Plays; did you smell anything?"

"Oh! parbleu! that was what made me leave her. I like to smoke a cigar, but a lady who smells like a guardhouse isn't at all agreeable. She must chew! that's the only explanation."

"She probably adopted the habit in her retirement."

"We must go and ask her husband."

"Oh, no! I should never dare."

"It's evident that you don't know Monsieur Plays! I'll bet you that I dare. Follow me, without making it apparent, and you'll see."

The young man who had spoken last walked up to Monsieur Plays, whom he discovered in an adjoining room, standing near a whist table and watching the game with close attention.

"Well, Monsieur Plays," said the young man, bowing to him, "you seem to be much engrossed by the game?"

"Yes; I am watching it rather closely."

"Are you studying the fine points of whist?"

"I study everything."

"You must be a fine whist player."

"On the contrary, I don't understand the game yet; for ten years, I've been watching it; but I hope that, by dint of watching, I shall learn it finally. My wife absolutely insists on my learning it; that is why I never lose a chance to look on."

"Speaking of madame, Monsieur Plays, she seems to have become a _lionne_[O] in her retirement."

"A _lionne_! my wife! Why, no; far from it, I a.s.sure you! on the contrary, her disposition has become more tractable; she is very mild and gentle now."

"You don't understand me, Monsieur Plays; by _lionne_, we men of fas.h.i.+on mean an eccentric woman, one who is very far advanced in the modern ideas of progress."

"What! you think my wife is advanced?"

"And, I may say, a woman who smokes. Isn't it a fact that Madame Plays indulges in that pleasure now?"

"My wife smoke! never! Oh! you are entirely mistaken. I can guess why you ask me that; you noticed that she smelt of tobacco, didn't you?"

"Faith! yes, Monsieur Plays, I did notice it; and, if I must tell you, I am not the only person in this company who has noticed it."

"I believe you; oh! I can readily believe you, as I have noticed it myself, and this evening isn't the first time that my wife has exhaled an odor of smoking tobacco. Ever since she took me off to our country place, where we lived like bears, I have noticed that same odor; and I have said to myself more than once: 'My wife smells of tobacco, and it seems to me that the smell is getting stronger and stronger.'"

"And you haven't asked madame what caused it?"

"I beg your pardon; one day I ventured to say to her: 'Herminie, are you in the habit of smoking in private? if you are, don't mind me, I beg you; smoke as much as you please!'"

"Well?"

"Well, my wife considered my question very impertinent, and she punished me--that is to say, she ordered me not to---- But, excuse me, this seems to be a very interesting hand; a gentleman has just made the _odd_; I must try to understand."

Monsieur Plays turned his attention to the whist table once more, and the young man walked away with his friends, having obtained no new light.

While this conversation was taking place, Madame Baldimer, noticing Madame Plays alone on a divan, went and seated herself by her side. The two ladies were slightly acquainted, having met rather often at Count Dahlborne's receptions, and Herminie had no suspicion that it was the fair American for whom the fickle Albert had purchased a shawl like hers.

"What has become of you lately, madame? it seems an age since we saw you at any sort of festivity; and everybody has been lamenting it."

The tone in which Madame Baldimer spoke might, to some people, have seemed slightly satirical; but Madame Plays saw only amiability therein, and she replied, with a long-drawn sigh:

"I thank you, madame; it is too kind of you to believe that people think of me; but I have been in close retirement, as was very natural after the painful event of which I was the cause, and for which I reproach myself so bitterly! Ah! I dared not show my face!"