time for Mrs. de la Grise to go back home. She ordered her phaeton to be ready, she had granted that her daughter should stay one more week at Crepon and the time came for Angela to kiss her mother good-bye. Choisy had imprudently left them both together.
— Thank you, mother, said Angela with rapture, the countess is so good to me and she knows so well how to please me, even at night.
— Even at night? exclaimed the marchioness, raising her eyebrows.
— We're married, you know, Angela said, innocently, in the way of explanation.
— The countess was married once, but you are not, answered the marchioness.
— Isn't that the same?
— No: two persons of the same sex cannot marry each other.
— And why on earth not?
— Marriage is a grave engagement and it has, well, certain obligations — But, mother, I go to bed with the countess as if with a husband.
— You never told me that before, and I certainly don't approve, said Mrs. de la Grise sternly.
— But we don't do any harm-on the contrary.
— What do you mean-on the contrary?
Mrs. de la Grise took her daughter apart and questioned her further.
— Explain yourself, she ordered, did she dare touch you? Did she do any reprehensible things with you?
— Reprehensible? I wouldn't know about that. She caresses me all along my body-and I just love it.
The marchioness started and looked attentively at her daughter. So, she thought, that is what has caused her to look so beaming with prosperity. She gave a brisk order:
— Go into the phaeton, I'm taking you home.
— But why? — I don't have to give you any reason.
Angela, frightened by the sudden abruptness of her mother, started crying. Choisy, who had witnessed the scene from afar, came up to them.
— Are you taking your daughter back, madam? Yet she likes it so much here.
— She likes it even too much, madam, and I want to nip in the bud certain scandalous effusions, she said, then, putting her head out of the window of the phaeton, she ejaculated, “I know now why you are not eager to marry again. But if you want to deprave somebody, you had better choose somebody else than my daughter.”
— Go! she ordered to the coachman, we have no more business in this house.
The driver touched up the horses and the phaeton started before Choisy had time to put in a protest. It would have been fruitless in any case.
Lisette had heard nothing but instinctively guessed what was afoot.
— What made the marchioness fly off the handle? she asked, knowing the answer.
— Bah! Choisy answered. Angela foolishly talked too much.
Then he made a sweeping gesture of impatience with the long sleeve of his dress and concluded philosophically:
— There are many pebbles on the beach.
— I am still at your service, madam, Lisette remarked in a mock tone.
Choisy reflected on the possible consequences of the sudden turn of events. Lisette suggested he should send Bouju to gather information but Choisy was averse to mixing his valet into his personal business and even declined Lisette's offer to act as a spy.
— No, he decided. I shall go myself, and map out a plan to counter-attack at the first opportunity.
So, the next day he went to Bourges in his gig and his first visit was to the bailiff. The latter being absent, Choisy was received by his wife.
— Your visit is unexpected, but opportune, she declared, I am very glad to see you.
— Thank you, madam, said Choisy, gracefully sitting on the proffered armchair.
— Has the Crepon air suddenly turned unhealthy? asked Mrs. du Plan abruptly, not bothering about preliminaries, so great was her curiosity. They are saying in town that Mrs. de la Grise suddenly brought back her daughter from Crepon.
— I wonder why she did that, Choisy answered, feigning surprise, and I must say I've come here chiefly to find out the answer to this riddle.
— You should know the answer better than I do! she replied.
— I assure you I know nothing.
— I've even been told that the marchioness has taken her daughter to the convent of Les Pres.
— Is it far from here? Choisy asked.
— Why? would you want to abduct her from there? she asked ironically.
— Of course not, but I would like an explanation with the marchioness.
— You will have to wait till she comes back. That won't be before night-fall for the convent is about four leagues away.
Choisy now knew enough. He stayed a while longer talking about other subjects, for decorum's sake, and Mrs. du Plan did her best to worm the truth out of him, and later in the course of the conversation, he brought the subject back to the burning question.
— Miss Angela was really very inquisitive, he said, she made me blush at times with some questions she asked me. After all, it is not up to me to give her tuition on a certain subject, is it?
— Her husband will deal with that, his hostess answered, adding: if, of course, she ever finds herself one, after this story!
Choisy felt like exclaiming “touche!” but refrained discreetly and took his leave, going directly back home, as he did not feel like staying in this town any longer, now that it was definitely hostile to him. He wondered if it would be worth while trying to gain back the good favours of that boring town, and finally estimated it as an impossible task.
What would he do? Wait till the scandal blew over? Scandal is very hard to die in provincial towns, he decided. Unless perhaps-“yes, that's it,” he thought he had found the right countermove. He would form in Crepon an elegant society who would make the provincial people of Bourges green with envy.
But, having slept on the idea, he found what he thought was a better one when he woke up the following morning. He ordered that one should prepare everything for his departure, the news of which he would later apprise the town of Bourges by letter, for he had still a few business matters to settle. Then he dressed as a man and travelled with Bouju riding normally on a horse, not sidesaddle.
Talking of side-saddle reminded Choisy of a funny story an English lady had once told him between two bouts of love-making. Asked whether she rode side-saddle or long-saddle, she replied glibly.
— Oh, it's as broad as it is long.
It was a pity bicycles were not invented at the time Choisy lived, or else he might have been laughing at this other funny story: “a young lady, having been given a ride on a bicycle by a young man was very embarrassed when she dismounted, on discovering that the bike was a woman's model.”
But let's come back to Choisy. He was riding slowly as he did not want to arrive at the convent of Les Pres before sunset. When he arrived there he reconnoitered the place, then knocked on the door and a sister opened it.
— Sister, I am a rider, lost in this unknown region and I am begging for a shelter for my valet and myself till dawn tomorrow, he said.
The sister took pity and said she would ask the abbess for permission.
— I am Mr. de Sancy, declared Choisy, perhaps this name will reassure her.
Soon after, the door was opened and an aged gardener led Bouju and the horses to the stable while Choisy was ushered into the abbess's parlour. She looked about forty years old, with a flourishing complexion and a healthy plumpness.
— Mr. de Sancy? she said, the name is not unknown to me — I usually reside in Paris, but I travel a lot, Choisy explained.
— Don't you live in the Faubourg St-Marceau in Paris? I think I can remember a lady named Mrs. de Sancy who was very charitable.
