“I see you laughing. You’re thinking an evil thought. Oh, my dear man, if I were not sure of myself, I shouldn’t make the suggestion to you. I have such scorn and loathing for love, as you men understand it, that I should never be tempted to lose my head. Do you accept?”
I kissed her hand.
“When do we start, madame?”
“May the tenth. Is it a bargain?”
“It’s a bargain.”
A month later, I was installed in her house. She really was a singular woman. She studied me from morning till evening. As she adores horses, we spent hours riding in the woods every day, talking about everything under the sun, for she was bent on probing my most intimate thoughts as earnestly as she strove to observe my smallest actions.
As for me, I became madly in love with her and I troubled myself not a whit about the harmony of our natures. I soon became aware that even my slumbers were subject to surveillance. Someone slept in a little room next mine, never entering it until late at night, and with infinite precautions. At last I became impatient of this incessant spying. I wanted to hasten the issue, and one evening I became urgent. She dealt with me in such a way that I refrained from all further attempts; but I was seized with a violent desire to make her pay, somehow or other, for the surveillance to which I was subjected, and I pondered on ways and means.
You know Césarine, her maid, a pretty girl from Granville, where all the girls are beautiful—but as fair as her mistress is dark.
One afternoon I drew the maid into my room, slipped five francs into her hand, and said to her:
“My dear child, I’m not going to ask you to do anything wrong, but I want to treat your mistress as she is treating me.”
The little maid smiled mockingly. I went on:
“I know I’m watched day and night. I’m watched eating, drinking, dressing, shaving, and putting on my socks, I know it.”
The young girl got out:
“Well, you see, sir …” She stopped. I continued:
“You sleep in the room next mine to listen if I snore, or if I dream aloud, don’t deny it.”
She began to laugh outright, and said:
“Well, you see, sir …” then stopped again.
I warmed to my theme:
“Well, you realise, my girl, that it’s not just that everything should be known about me and I know nothing about the lady who will be my wife. I love her with all my soul. She is my ideal in looks, mind and heart; so far as that goes, I’m the happiest of men. However, there are some things I would give a lot to know. …”
Césarine decided to thrust my banknote into her pocket. I understood that she had come to terms.
“Listen, my girl, we men, we think a lot of certain … certain … physical details, which don’t prevent a woman from being charming, but can alter her value in our eyes. I’m not asking you to speak ill of your mistress, nor even to confess her secret faults, if she has any. Only answer frankly four or five questions I’m going to put to you. You know Mme. de Jadelle as well as you know yourself, since you dress and undress her every day. Well, now, tell me this: Is she as plump as she seems to be?”
The little maid did not answer.
I went on:
“Come, my child, you’re not ignorant that some women put wadding, you know, wadding where, where … well, wadding in the place where babies are fed, and on the place where you sit down. Tell me, does she pad?”
Césarine had lowered her gaze. She said timidly:
“Ask all your questions, sir. I’ll answer them all at once.”
“Well, my girl, some women have knock-knees, too, so badly that they rub against each other with every step they take. Others have them so widely separated that their legs are like the arches of a bridge. You can see the countryside through them. Both fashions are very pretty. Tell me what your mistress’s legs are like.”
The little maid did not answer.
I continued:
“Some women have such a fine breast that it forms a deep fold underneath. Some have plump arms and a thin figure. Some are well shaped in front and have no shape at all behind; others are well shaped behind and have no shape in front. All these fashions are very pretty, very pretty; but I would dearly like to know how your mistress is shaped. Tell me frankly and I will give you still more money.”
Césarine looked at me searchingly and, laughing heartily, said:
“Except that she’s black, sir, madame is shaped just like me.” Then she ran away.
I was sold.
This time I felt a fool, and I determined that I would at least avenge myself on this impertinent maid.
An hour later, I cautiously entered the little room, where she listened to my slumbers, and unscrewed the bolts.
She arrived about midnight at her observation post. I followed her at once. When she saw me, she made as if to cry out; but I shut her mouth with my hand and convinced myself with very little trouble that, unless she was lying, Mme. de Jadelle must be very well made indeed.
I even took a great delight in this process of verification, which, moreover, pushed a little farther, did not seem any less pleasing to Césarine.
She was, upon my word, a ravishing specimen of the Bas-Normande race, at once sturdy and slender. She was innocent of certain delicate refinements that Henry IV would have scorned. I very soon taught her them, and as I adore perfumes, I made her a present that same evening of a flask of amber lavender.
We were soon more attached than I would have believed possible, almost friends. She became an exquisite
