Part 17 (2/2)

”Puts a 'stop,' at all events, to the enemy's flight!” said another.

”Almost as good as drinking out of his skull,” added a third.

”Or as eating him, _tout de bon_,” said Rachel.

”There must be a certain satisfaction in cannibalism,” observed the cynic who had spoken before. ”There are people upon whom one would sup willingly.”

”As, for instance, critics, who are our natural enemies,” said Rachel.

”_C'est a dire_, if critics were not too sour to be eaten.”

”Nay, with the sweet sauce of vengeance!”

”You speak feelingly, Monsieur de Musset. I am almost sorry, for your sake, that cannibalism is out of fas.h.i.+on!”

”It is one of the penalties of civilization,” replied de Musset, with a shrug. ”Besides, one would not wish to be an epicure.”

Dalrymple, who had been listening somewhat disdainfully to this skirmish of words, here touched me on the arm and turned away.

”Don't you hate this sort of high-pressure talk?” he said, impatiently.

”I was just thinking it so brilliant.”

”Pshaw!--conversational fireworks--every speaker bent on eclipsing every other speaker. It's an artificial atmosphere, my dear Damon--a sort of forcing-house for good things; and I hate forced witticisms, as I hate forced peas. But have you had enough of it? Or has this feast of reason taken away your appet.i.te for simpler fare?”

”If you mean, am I ready to go with you to Madame de Courcelles'--yes.”

”_A la bonne heure_!”

”But you are not going away without taking leave of Madame Rachel?”

”Unquestionably. Leave-taking is a custom more honored in the breach than the observance.”

”But isn't that very impolite?”

”_Ingenu!_ Do you know that society ignores everything disagreeable? A leave-taker sets an unpleasant example, disturbs the harmony of things, and reminds others of their watches. Besides, he suggests unwelcome possibilities. Perhaps he finds the party dull; or, worse still, he may be going to one that is pleasanter.”

By this time we were again rattling along the Boulevard. The theatres were ablaze with lights. The road was full of carriages. The _trottoir_ was almost as populous as at noon. The idlers outside the _cafes_ were still eating their ices and sipping their _eau-sucre_ as though, instead of being past eleven at night, it was scarcely eleven in the morning. In a few minutes, we had once more turned aside out of the great thoroughfare, and stopped at a private house in a quiet street. A carriage driving off, a cab drawing up behind our own, open windows with drawn blinds, upon which were profiled pa.s.sing shadows of the guests within, and the ringing tones of a soprano voice, accompanied by a piano, gave sufficient indication of a party, and had served to attract a little crowd of soldiers and _gamins_ about the doorway.

Having left our over-coats with a servant, we were ushered upstairs, and, as the song was not yet ended, slipped in unannounced and stationed ourselves just between two crowded drawing-rooms, where, sheltered by the folds of a muslin curtain, we could see all that was going on in both. I observed, at a glance, that I was now in a society altogether unlike that which I had just left.

At Rachel's there were present only two ladies besides herself, and those were members of her own family. Here I found at least an equal proportion of both s.e.xes. At Rachel's a princely magnificence reigned.

Here the rooms were elegant, but simple; the paintings choice but few; the ornaments costly, but in no unnecessary profusion.

”It is just the difference between taste and display,” said Dalrymple.

”Rachel is an actress, and Madame de Courcelles is a lady. Rachel exhibits her riches as an Indian chief exhibits the scalps of his victims--Madame de Courcelles adorns her house with no other view than to make it attractive to her friends.”

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