Part 35 (1/2)

Taking the upper-road, so-called, to avoid the Close of the Cross, Rigou reached the square of Soulanges about eight o'clock.

Just as he was fastening his rein to the post nearest the little door with three steps, a blind opened and Soudry showed his face, pitted with the small-pox, which the expression of his small black eyes rendered crafty.

”Let's begin by taking a crust here before we start,” he said; ”we sha'n't get breakfast at Ville-aux-Fayes before one o'clock.”

Then he softly called a servant-girl, as young and pretty as Annette, who came down noiselessly, and received his order for ham and bread; after which he went himself to the cellar and fetched some wine.

Rigou contemplated for the hundredth time the well-known dining-room, floored in oak, with stuccoed ceiling and cornice, its high wainscot and handsome cupboards finely painted, its porcelain stone and magnificent tall clock,--all the property of Mademoiselle Laguerre. The chair-backs were in the form of lyres, painted white and highly varnished; the seats were of green morocco with gilt nails. A ma.s.sive mahogany table was covered with green oilcloth, with large squares of a deeper shade of green, and a plain border of the lighter. The floor, laid in Hungarian point, was carefully waxed by Urbain and showed the care which ex-waiting-women know how to exact out of their servants.

”Bah! it cost too much,” thought Rigou for the hundredth time. ”I can eat as good a dinner in my room as here, and I have the income of the money this useless splendor would have wasted. Where is Madame Soudry?”

he asked, as the mayor returned armed with a venerable bottle.

”Asleep.”

”And you no longer disturb her slumbers?” said Rigou.

The ex-gendarme winked with a knowing air, and pointed to the ham which Jeannette, the pretty maid, was just bringing in.

”That will pick you up, a pretty bit like that,” he said. ”It was cured in the house; we cut into it only yesterday.”

”Where did you find her?” said the ex-Benedictine in Soudry's ear.

”She is like the ham,” replied the ex-gendarme, winking again; ”I have had her only a week.”

Jeannette, still in her night-cap, with a short petticoat and her bare feet in slippers, had slipped on a bodice made with straps over the arms in true peasant fas.h.i.+on, over which she had crossed a neckerchief which did not entirely hide her fresh and youthful attractions, which were at least as appetizing as the ham she carried. Short and plump, with bare arms mottled red, ending in large, dimpled hands with short but well-made fingers, she was a picture of health. The face was that of a true Burgundian,--ruddy, but white about the temples, throat, and ears; the hair was chestnut; the corners of the eyes turned up towards the top of the ears; the nostrils were wide, the mouth sensual, and a little down lay along the cheeks; all this, together with a jaunty expression, tempered however by a deceitfully modest att.i.tude, made her the model of a roguish servant-girl.

”On my honor, Jeannette is as good as the ham,” said Rigou. ”If I hadn't an Annette I should want a Jeannette.”

”One is as good as the other,” said the ex-gendarme, ”for your Annette is fair and delicate. How is Madame Rigou,--is she asleep?” added Soudry, roughly, to let Rigou see he understood his joke.

”She wakes with the c.o.c.k, but she goes to roost with the hens,” replied Rigou. ”As for me, I sit up and read the 'Const.i.tutionnel.' My wife lets me sleep at night and in the morning too; she wouldn't come into my room for all the world.”

”It's just the other way here,” replied Jeanette. ”Madame sits up with the company playing cards; sometimes there are sixteen of them in the salon; Monsieur goes to bed at eight o'clock, and we get up at daylight--”

”You think that's different,” said Rigou, ”but it comes to the same thing in the end. Well, my dear, you come to me and I'll send Annette here, and that will be the same thing and different too.”

”Old scamp, you'll make her ashamed,” said Soudry.

”Ha! gendarme; you want your field to yourself! Well, we all get our happiness where we can find it.”

Jeanette, by her master's order, disappeared to lay out his clothes.

”You must have promised to marry her when your wife dies,” said Rigou.

”At your age and mine,” replied Soudry, ”there's no other way.”

”With girls of any ambition it would be one way to become a widower,”

added Rigou; ”especially if Madame Soudry found fault with Jeannette for her way of scrubbing the staircase.”

The remark made the two husbands pensive. When Jeannette returned and announced that all was ready, Soudry said to her, ”Come and help me!”--a precaution which made the ex-monk smile.

”There's a difference, indeed!” said he. ”As for me, I'd leave you alone with Annette, my good friend.”