Part 5 (1/2)
”s.h.!.+ I know what I mean. Ah! if Capucine wasn't a friend of mine!”
”Adelaide! Adelaide! I think that's a green 'bus coming; come here, quick!”
The servant left the office, with her basket. Monsieur Cherami greeted her with an affable bow, which she barely acknowledged, muttering:
”Bah! there goes the rest of our money! I wonder if that man's coming to dine with us? If he is, there'll never be enough to eat.”
”Are you going into the country, Madame Capucine?”
”Yes, monsieur; we're going to Romainville.”
”Have you bought a summer house, a villa, in that neighborhood?”
”No, monsieur; my Aunt Duponceau has a little place there, and we're going to pa.s.s Sunday with her.”
”You begin the day before, I see.”
”She made me promise to come Sat.u.r.day with the children. Capucine will join us to-morrow.”
”Ah! he isn't with you?”
”It wasn't possible; we can't all leave at once, on account of the business; it's stretching a point for me to go away with my servant.”
”But you have your clerk?”
”Monsieur Ballot? Oh! yes, he's still with us; we're very lucky to have him--a very intelligent fellow, and full of ideas.”
Monsieur Cherami smiled maliciously, as he replied:
”Yes, yes, I saw at once that he attended to your business very well.
I'm sure that you'll push that young man ahead.”
”Oh! he'll push himself all right. He's coming to Romainville to-morrow with my husband.”
”The party'll be complete, then; but, meanwhile, you are without an escort to give you his arm, to look out for you.”
”There is no danger on this little trip.”
”A lovely woman is always in danger. All the men are tempted to carry her off. They don't always yield to the temptation, but they feel it, I promise you. Pardieu! I have my cue--a charming plan suggests itself to my mind: suppose I go with you to Romainville? Your Aunt Duponceau won't be sorry to see me, I'm sure. Indeed, I believe she urged me one day to go to see her in the country--yes, she certainly did. What do you think of that plan, lovely creature?”
Madame Capucine, having carefully scrutinized her friend's costume, seemed not at all anxious to take with her to the country a cavalier whose attire would not do her honor; and so, instead of answering his question, she observed:
”By the way, Monsieur Cherami, my husband told me, if I should happen to meet you, to remind you of that little bill--you know, eh? It's for some flannel vests, and it's been running a long while. You promised to pay it; I believe it's about a hundred and thirty francs.”
Monsieur Cherami made a wry face, and struck his hat with his hand, muttering:
”Oh! madame, I know very well that I owe you a small account, a trifle, a mere nothing; but I have had much more important matters than that to think about.”
”It's been running at least three years.”