Part 15 (1/2)
It was Jacqueline's voice that arrested him. It was sharp and almost angry. She, too, was selling flowers, while at the same time she was helping Madame de Nailles with her toys; but she was selling with that decorum and graceful reserve which custom prescribes for young girls.
”Fred, I do hope you will wear no roses but mine. Those you have are frightful. They make you look like a village bridegroom. Take out those things; come! Here is a pretty boutonniere, and I will fasten it much better in your b.u.t.tonhole--let me.”
In vain did he try to seem cold to her; his heart thawed in spite of himself. She held him so charmingly by the lapel of his coat, touching his cheek with the tip end of an aigrette which set so charmingly on the top of the most becoming of fur caps which she wore. Her hair was turned up now, showing her beautiful neck, and he could see little rebellious hairs curling at their own will over her pure, soft skin, while she, bending forward, was engaged in his service. He admired, too, her slender waist, only recently subjected to the restraint of a corset.
He forgave her on the spot. At this moment a man with brown hair, tall, elegant, and with his moustache turned up at the ends, after the old fas.h.i.+on of the Valois, revived recently, came hurriedly up to the table of Madame de Nailles. Fred felt that that inimitable moustache reduced his not yet abundant beard to nothing.
”Mademoiselle Jacqueline,” said the newcomer, ”Madame de Villegry has sent me to beg you to help her at the buffet. She can not keep pace with her customers, and is asking for volunteers.”
All this was uttered with a familiar a.s.surance which greatly shocked the young naval man.
”You permit me, Madame?”
The Baroness bowed with a smile, which said, had he chosen to interpret it, ”I give you permission to carry her off now--and forever, if you wish it.”
At that moment she was placing in the half-unwilling arms of Hubert Marien an enormous rubber balloon and a jumping-jack, in return for five Louis which he had laid humbly on her table. But Jacqueline had not waited for her stepmother's permission; she let herself be borne off radiant on the arm of the important personage who had come for her, while Colette, who perhaps had remarked the subst.i.tution for her two roses, whispered in Fred's ear, in atone of great significance ”Monsieur de Cymier.”
The poor fellow started, like a man suddenly awakened from a happy dream to face the most unwelcome of realities. Impelled by that natural longing, that we all have, to know the worst, he went toward the buffet, affecting a calmness which it cost him a great effort to maintain. As he went along he mechanically gave money to each of the ladies whom he knew, moving off without waiting for their thanks or stopping to choose anything from their tables. He seemed to feel the floor rock under his feet, as if he had been walking the deck of a vessel. At last he reached a recess decorated with palms, where, in a robe worthy of 'Peau d'Ane'
in the story, and absolutely a novelty in the world of fas.h.i.+ons robe all embroidered with gold and rubies, which glittered with every movement made by the wearer--Madame de Villegry was pouring out Russian tea and Spanish chocolate and Turkish coffee, while all kinds of deceitful promises of favor shone in her eyes, which wore a certain tenderness expressive of her interest in charity. A party of young nymphs formed the court of this fair G.o.ddess, doing their best to lend her their aid.
Jacqueline was one of them, and, at the moment Fred approached, she was offering, with the tips of her fingers, a gla.s.s of champagne to M.
de Cymier, who at the same time was eagerly trying to persuade her to believe something, about which she was gayly laughing, while she shook her head. Poor Fred, that he might hear, and suffer, drank two mouthfuls of sherry which he could hardly swallow.
”One who was really charitable would not hesitate,” said M. de Cymier, ”especially when every separate hair would be paid for if you chose.
Just one little curl--for the sake of the poor. It is very often done: anything is allowable for the sake of the poor.”
”Maybe it is because, as you say, that it is very often done that I shall not do it,” said Jacqueline, still laughing. ”I have made up my mind never to do what others have done before me.”
”Well, we shall see,” said M. de Cymier, pretending to threaten her.
And her young head was thrown back in a burst of inextinguishable laughter.
Fred fled, that he might not be tempted to make a disturbance. When he found himself again in the street, he asked himself where he should go. His anger choked him; he felt he could not keep his resentment to himself, and yet, however angry he might be with Jacqueline, he would have been unwilling to hear his mother give utterance to the very sentiments that he was feeling, or to harsh judgments, of which he preferred to keep the monopoly. It came into his mind that he would pay a little visit to Giselle, who, of all the people he knew, was the least likely to provoke a quarrel. He had heard that Madame de Talbrun did not go out, being confined to her sofa by much suffering, which, it might be hoped, would soon come to an end; and the certainty that he should find her if he called at once decided him. Since he had been in Paris he had done nothing but leave cards. This time, however, he was sure that the lady upon whom he called would be at home. He was taken at once into the young wife's boudoir, where he found her very feeble, lying back upon her cus.h.i.+ons, alone, and working at some little bits of baby-clothes. He was not slow to perceive that she was very glad to see him. She flushed with pleasure as he came into the room, and, dropping her sewing, held out to him two little, thin hands, white as wax. ”Take that footstool--sit down there--what a great, great pleasure it is to see you back again!” She was more expansive than she had been formerly; she had gained a certain ease which comes from intercourse with the world, but how delicate she seemed! Fred for a moment looked at her in silence, she seemed so changed as she lay there in a loose robe of pale blue cashmere, whose train drawn over her feet made her look tall as it stretched to the end of the gilded couch, round which Giselle had collected all the little things required by an invalid--bottles, boxes, work-bag, dressing-case, and writing materials.
”You see,” she said, with her soft smile, ”I have plenty to occupy me, and I venture to be proud of my work and to think I am creating marvels.”
As she spoke she turned round on her closed hand a cap that seemed microscopic to Fred.
”What!” he cried, ”do you expect him to be small enough to wear that!”
”Him! you said him; and I am sure you will be right. I know it will be a boy,” replied Giselle, eagerly, her fair face brightened by these words.
”I have some that are still smaller. Look!” and she lifted up a pile of things trimmed with ribbons and embroidery. ”See; these are the first!
Ah! I lie here and fancy how he will look when he has them on. He will be sweet enough to eat. Only his papa wants us to give him a name that I think is too long for him, because it has always been in the family--Enguerrand.”
”His name will be longer than himself, I should say, judging by the dimensions of this cap,” said Fred, trying to laugh.
”Bah!” replied Giselle, gayly, ”but we can get over it by calling him Gue-gue or Ra-ra. What do you think? The difficulty is that names of that kind are apt to stick to a boy for fifty years, and then they seem ridiculous. Now a pretty abbreviation like Fred is another matter. But I forget they have brought up my chocolate. Please ring, and let them bring you a cup. We will take our luncheon together, as we used to do.”
”Thank you, I have no appet.i.te. I have just come from a certain buffet where I lost it all.”