Four menservants in black coats stood behind the armchairs, which were upholstered in morocco. At this sight the guests uttered an exclamation—the tutor more emphatically than the rest.
“Upon my word, our host has indulged in a foolishly lavish display of luxury. It is too beautiful!”
“Is that so?” said the Vicomte de Cisy; “Come on, then!”
And, as they were swallowing the first spoonful:
“Well, my dear old friend Aulnays, have you been to the Palais-Royal to see Père et Portier?”
“You know well that I have no time to go!” replied the Marquis.
His mornings were taken up with a course of arboriculture, his evenings were spent at the Agricultural Club, and all his afternoons were occupied by a study of the implements of husbandry in manufactories. As he resided at Saintonge for three fourths of the year, he took advantage of his visits to the capital to get fresh information; and his large-brimmed hat, which lay on a side-table, was crammed with pamphlets.
But Cisy, observing that M. de Forchambeaux refused to take wine:
“Go on, damn it, drink! You’re not in good form for your last bachelor’s meal!”
At this remark all bowed and congratulated him.
“And the young lady,” said the tutor, “is charming, I’m sure?”
“Faith, she is!” exclaimed Cisy. “No matter, he is making a mistake; marriage is such a stupid thing!”
“You talk in a thoughtless fashion, my friend!” returned M. des Aulnays, while tears began to gather in his eyes at the recollection of his own dead wife.
And Forchambeaux repeated several times in succession:
“It will be your own case—it will be your own case!”
Cisy protested. He preferred to enjoy himself—to “live in the free-and-easy style of the Regency days.” He wanted to learn the shoe-trick, in order to visit the thieves’ taverns of the city, like Rodolphe in the Mysteries of Paris; drew out of his pocket a dirty clay pipe, abused the servants, and drank a great quantity; then, in order to create a good impression about himself, he disparaged all the dishes. He even sent away the truffles; and the tutor, who was exceedingly fond of them, said through servility:
“These are not as good as your grandmother’s snow-white eggs.”
Then he began to chat with the person sitting next to him, the agriculturist, who found many advantages from his sojourn in the country, if it were only to be able to bring up his daughters with simple tastes. The tutor approved of his ideas and toadied to him, supposing that this gentleman possessed influence over his former pupil, whose man of business he was anxious to become.
Frederick had come there filled with hostility to Cisy; but the young aristocrat’s idiocy had disarmed him. However, as the other’s gestures, face, and entire person brought back to his recollection the dinner at the Café Anglais, he got more and more irritated; and he lent his ears to the complimentary remarks made in a low tone by Joseph, the cousin, a fine young fellow without any money, who was a lover of the chase and a University prizeman. Cisy, for the sake of a laugh, called him a “catcher”14 several times; then suddenly:
“Ha! here comes the Baron!”
At that moment, there entered a jovial blade of thirty, with somewhat rough-looking features and active limbs, wearing his hat over his ear and displaying a flower in his buttonhole. He was the Vicomte’s ideal. The young aristocrat was delighted at having him there; and stimulated by his presence, he even attempted a pun; for he said, as they passed a heath-cock:
“There’s the best of La Bruyère’s characters!”15
After that, he put a heap of questions to M. de Comaing about persons unknown to society; then, as if an idea had suddenly seized him:
“Tell me, pray! have you thought about me?”
The other shrugged his shoulders:
“You are not old enough, my little man. It is impossible!”
Cisy had begged of the Baron to get him admitted into his club. But the other having, no doubt, taken pity on his vanity:
“Ha! I was forgetting! A thousand congratulations on having won your bet, my dear fellow!”
“What bet?”
“The bet you made at the races to effect an entrance the same evening into that lady’s house.”
Frederick felt as if he had got a lash with a whip. He was speedily appeased by the look of utter confusion in Cisy’s face.
In fact, the Maréchale, next morning, was filled with regret when Arnoux, her first lover, her good friend, had presented himself that very day. They both gave the Vicomte to understand that he was in the way, and kicked him out without much ceremony.
He pretended not to have heard what was said.
The Baron went on:
“What has become of her, this fine Rose? Is she as pretty as ever?” showing by his manner that he had been on terms of intimacy with her.
Frederick was chagrined by the discovery.
“There’s nothing to blush at,” said the Baron, pursuing the topic, “ ’tis a good thing!”
Cisy smacked his tongue.
“Whew! not so good!”
“Ha!”
“Oh dear, yes! In the first place, I found her nothing extraordinary, and then, you pick up the like of her as often as you please, for, in fact, she is for sale!”
“Not for everyone!” remarked Frederick, with some bitterness.
“He imagines that he is different from the others,” was Cisy’s comment. “What a good joke!”
And a laugh ran round the table.
Frederick felt as if the palpitations of his heart would suffocate him. He swallowed two glasses of water one after the other.
But the Baron had preserved a lively recollection of Rosanette.
“Is she still interested in a fellow named Arnoux?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Cisy, “I don’t know that gentleman!”
Nevertheless, he suggested that he believed Arnoux was a sort of swindler.
“A moment!” exclaimed Frederick.
“However, there is no doubt about it! Legal proceedings
