And clearing his voice he sang these lines, the others repeating the last lines in chorus—
‘Monsieur l’Abbé, ou allez-vous?
Vous allez vous casser le cou,
Vous allez sans chandelles,
Eh bien!
Pour voir les demoiselles!
Vous m’entendez bien!
C’est bien!
Pour voir les demoiselles!’
‘Silence, rascal!’ cried Dubois, hurling some pieces at Benoit’s head, who picked them up, put them in his pocket, and was quieted directly—sooner, indeed, than the laugh against the gallant abbe which he had raised.
‘Let M. de Sainte-Croix have his turn,’ said Chavagnac. ‘Do you know him, fool?’
Benoit glanced expressively at Gaudin as he commenced—
‘Monsieur Gaudin de Sainte-Croix,
Whence do you your treasures draw?
Not from dice, nor cards alone,
Nor philosophy’s rare stone,
Biribi!
Why affect such scenes as these,
And neglect your belle Marquise?
Where is she?
Left lamenting, like Louise.
Sacristie!’
Gaudin’s cheek flamed with anger. The company observed that he was stung deeper than mere badinage could have done; and this time the laugh was less general than the one which had been raised against the abbe. He drew Marie’s arm closer within his own, and with a look of vengeance at Benoit, left the circle; whilst the other proceeded to launch a couplet against Chavagnac, filled with no very complimentary allusions to his wild spirit of appropriation.
CHAPTER XXIII.
SAINTE-CROIX AND MARIE ENCOUNTER AN UNINVITED GUEST
They were each in ill-humour with one another. The apparent intimacy of Marotte Dupré had aroused all Marie’s jealousy, so terrible in its very calm; and Gaudin had been annoyed by Benoit’s allusions. They passed along the room without speaking, nor was it until they gained an apartment at the end of the suite that a word was spoken.
It was a small room they entered, with two deeply-stained windows, and lighted by lamps placed on the outer side of the glass, producing almost the same effect as though it had been day.