Part 9 (1/2)
”We don't even suspect it,” said Robineau, filling his gla.s.s with chambertin again, ”and that's the amusing part of it.”
”A woman, messieurs,” rejoined Edouard, ”who laughs at a man because he is really in love with her, such a woman is a flirt, and it seems to me that society is not made up entirely of flirts. How many pa.s.sionate, loving hearts there are, ready to respond to our love! How many women who cannot help loving a scapegrace in secret, and who exert every effort to conceal what they feel!”
”They are innumerable,” said Robineau.
”Faith! coquettish or sentimental, artless or pa.s.sionate, they are fascinating,” said Alfred; ”except, however, when they run after us, follow us and set spies to watch all our movements.”
”Oh! the devil! a woman who follows a man is a horrible creature! In the first place, it's very bad form! But such a thing is never seen now.”
”Yes it is, sometimes.”
”For my part, messieurs,” said Robineau, who persisted in talking constantly, although his tongue was beginning to thicken, ”when a woman follows me, and I discover it--for when I don't discover it, I close my eyes--but when she follows me, I say to her: 'My dear love, you are following me about and I don't like it. When I choose to be with you, I will tell you so; but if I choose to speak to another woman, I don't need your presence in order to make myself agreeable; on the contrary, it paralyzes my faculties.'”
”Bravo! bravo!” laughed the young men; ”he talks like Cicero.”
”Now for the champagne, messieurs,” said Alfred.
”Champagne it is!”
”Yes, champagne!” cried Robineau, ”and let's see who will drink the most; I never get drunk.”
The corks popped, they partook freely of the champagne, and soon everybody was speaking at the same moment and each imagined that he was being listened to. But amid the uproar and the outbursts of laughter, Robineau succeeded in making himself heard because he shouted louder than all the others, and the tipsier he grew, the more he insisted upon arguing to prove that wine did not go to his head.
”My dear friend,” he said, addressing Alfred, ”you haven't a suspicion that I am in the secret of your love-affairs, of your conquests; that is to say, a sweet little brunette, a widow; I don't propose to mention her name, because we must be discreet, but it seems that you made love to her in great shape, and that the said Madame de Gerville set out to put your constancy to the test----”
”Madame de Gerville! how do you know that? How do you know Madame de Gerville?”
”In the first place, I haven't said that it was Madame de Gerville; I didn't mention any names, did I, messieurs?”
”No, no!” cried the young men, laughing heartily; ”oh, no! he knows too much for that! anybody can see that he never gets tight!”
”Why, messieurs,” said Robineau, putting a gla.s.s of champagne to his lips, ”I swallow this like milk; I have a head of iron!--But all the same, Alfred, the young widow says that you're a monster! a perfidious wretch! It would seem that she was really taken with you.”
”I don't know whether Madame de Gerville was taken with me; but I confess that I was deeply in love with her,--so much so that for a moment I thought it was serious. Jenny is lively, amiable, clever; but one fine day I met a certain Clara at her house; I didn't know that she was her particular friend; there are many women who see one another every day, but don't love one another. This Clara is very attractive too; I told her that I considered her a charming creature--the most natural thing in the world; but it seems that she repeated it to Madame de Gerville, and that Madame de Gerville didn't like it. Faith! it matters little to me. To the devil with constancy! I know nothing but pleasure myself!--Let us drink to the health of all pretty women!”
”Ah! messieurs, everybody must live! here's to the ladies in general!”
said Edouard.
”Yes,” said Robineau, holding out his gla.s.s to touch Edouard's, ”the ladies in general! and in particular, too; for I have a particular one--ha! ha!--and a solid one, too! Virtue personified, with a wanton air, and plenty of morals--the whole disguised as a milliner.”
”Aha! so your d.u.c.h.ess is only a milliner now!” said Alfred! ”and you wouldn't invite her to dine with us!”
”Well, messieurs, what's the odds, after all? What does rank amount to when beauty is in question?”
”He is right. Haven't kings been known to marry shepherdesses? The ancients weren't so proud as we are. Did not Shechem, the son of King Hamor, marry Dinah, the shepherd Jacob's daughter? Did not one of the Pharaohs of Egypt fall in love with Sarah, a shepherd's sister?”
”Very good! in that case, long live the grisettes! I know of no one like a grisette for the combination of love and dancing; for patching your breeches when you tear them, for keeping your breakfast hot in the morning and lighting your lamp at night. Just go and ask some fine lady of fas.h.i.+on, such as I saw here to-night, to sew on a b.u.t.ton or mend your suspenders--you'd be well received, wouldn't you?--Long live the grisettes! I stick to that!”
”Long live the grisettes!” echoed the young men, laughing; and they plied Robineau with drink, because he was beginning not to know what he was saying, and that greatly entertained the young men, especially Alfred, who was not sorry to hear him contradict, when he was drunk, the lies into which his self-conceit had led him when he was sober.--Liars should never drink too much. The old proverb, _in vino veritas_, is true. How many people there are who would make fools of themselves in their cups, if they did not take care to keep sober! What reckless admissions, what piquant confessions we should hear, if--But the ladies never get tipsy!
”So it seems, Robineau, you've a very pretty milliner for a mistress?”