Volume Ii Part 6 (1/2)
”You would have been very foolish, and we hope, on the contrary, that you will continue, although you know that we are here.”
”If it will give you any pleasure, madame, I will do whatever you command. But may I not hear you and mademoiselle, also?”
”Oh, yes! monsieur, we will both sing; and as I have not enough talent to require urging, I will begin.”
Honorine seated herself at the piano. She had not much voice, but she put so much expression into the words she sang that one never tired of hearing her.
Next it was Agathe's turn; she faltered, forgot words and air, confused one song with another, and sang very badly because she longed to sing better than usual.
”Do not judge her by this hearing,” said Honorine; ”really, she is not in voice to-day.”
”I am hoa.r.s.e!” murmured Agathe with a pout, as she left the piano.
Edmond sang again, and his sympathetic voice delighted the two friends so much that they listened too intently to hear Poucette, who stood in the doorway shouting that dinner was served. However, the young peasant's loud voice succeeded at last in making itself heard. They left the piano and went down into the garden, where the table was laid under an arbor. To dine in the open air is one of the great joys of life in the country; and to those sybarites who fear that they may not have everything necessary to their comfort, who make a wry face if a leaf falls on their plate, if a maybug buzzes about their ears, I would say:
You do not know that the sense of well-being which one feels on breathing the pure country air always sharpens the appet.i.te.
The dinner pa.s.sed off very merrily.
Edmond was agreeable, Honorine witty, and Agathe happy. Everybody was content.
From time to time Edmond exclaimed:
”How lovely it is to live in the country! I think I must hire a little room in the neighborhood, for the summer; it would do me a great deal of good.”
”Is your health poor, monsieur?” asked Honorine in a slightly sarcastic tone, for the young man had done ample justice to the dinner.
”I am not ill as yet, madame; but my lungs are weak, very weak.”
”Why, that is strange; one would not think it, to hear you sing.”
”I a.s.sure you that a doctor, a friend of mine, tells me that the country air would do me no end of good.”
”Indeed, I believe that it can never injure anyone.”
”If I could find a small furnished apartment in this vicinity--a bachelor requires so little!”
”Oh! you can find that!” exclaimed Agathe; ”it seems to me I have seen signs on the main street. It would be very nice to have you for a neighbor!”
”It is I, mademoiselle, whom it would make very happy.”
Honorine nudged her young friend with her knee, to urge her to be less expansive; whereupon Agathe made a funny little face and held her peace until some new outburst escaped her.
The girl was not as yet accustomed to society, and she said frankly just what she thought; which people are very careful not to do in society--and with good reason.
The music had delayed the dinner, and they were still talking around the table in the garden long after it had grown dark. Suddenly Poucette ran toward them with a terrified air, and said to the young man:
”Monsieur, your name's Edmond Didier, isn't it?”
”Yes--why?”