Volume I Part 4 (2/2)
”We think of amusing ourselves, Monsieur Chamoureau, that is true; but it's not a crime. And you yourself, if you could divert your thoughts in our company, where would be the harm?”
”I, divert my thoughts! Ah! Monsieur Edmond, when a man has met with such a loss as mine, there is no possible distraction. It is all over; I must bid pleasure adieu forever.”
”Forever! that's a terribly long time. It's two months already since you lost your wife.”
”Two months and four days, monsieur; and it seems to me as if it were yesterday. Ask Freluchon if I didn't tell him so when I dined with him to-day.”
”You did; you said it while we were eating that lobster with Marengo sauce, that was so good.”
”A little too much garlic, my friend, a little too much garlic; it was pretty well seasoned, but you can get it even better at Javault's on Rue de Rivoli, opposite the Hotel de Ville.”
”You think that it's better there?”
”Oh! I am sure of it, my dear fellow! that's an excellent restaurant.
And when you happen to want a truffled snipe _a la provencale_, just order it in the morning when you go out to walk; it will be all ready for you at six o'clock, and you can tell me what you think of it.”
”You seem to know the good places, Monsieur Chamoureau.”
”What would you have? my knowledge goes back to the time of my marriage; Eleonore liked good things to eat and we often dined at restaurants--with Freluchon. He always went with us; my wife liked to have him because he knew all about wines and I knew very little. My wife would say: 'If Freluchon doesn't come with us, we shall have some wretched madeira.'--But he never refused to come, the dear fellow.”
”It was a pleasure to me.”
”To be sure, where my wife was, one could never be bored; she had so much wit!”
”Ah! she was agreeable, was she?”
”Agreeable! Eleonore! Why, monsieur, she was a very superior woman--a regular bluestocking! She could have written her own memoirs if she had wanted to; but she wouldn't do it, she was too bright for that. She just sparkled with fun, with imagination. I shall never find another woman like her, never! never! What a loss I have sustained! I can never be consoled; when I lost her, I lost all!”
Monsieur Chamoureau drew his handkerchief again and began to weep.
”Come, come, Monsieur Chamoureau,” said Edmond, ”you must be reasonable!”
”It's too much for me, my dear friend. I feel that I am no longer of any account on earth, bereft of my Eleonore!”
Freluchon seized the tongs and began to stir the fire, saying:
”Chamoureau, do you remember the trick she played on an old lady one day?”
”Ah, yes! at Saint-Cloud!”
”At Saint-Cloud, just so; it was at a restaurant, one very hot day in summer.”
”Yes, yes; there was only one small salon with two tables vacant.”
”That's right. Eleonore--I mean your wife----”
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