Dame Perrine, by virtue of Colombe's disappearance, by the retirement of Pulchérie, for whose presence there was no further pretext, and by the departure of the provost, was left absolute mistress of the Petit-Nesle; for the gardener Raimbault and his assistants were, for economical reasons, engaged in Messire d'Estourville's service during the day only. Dame Perrine found herself, therefore, queen of the Petit-Nesle, but at the same time a solitary queen, so that she nearly died of ennui during the day, and of fear at night.
It occurred to her that there was a remedy for this unfortunate condition of affairs, during the day at least; her friendly relations with Dame Ruperta opened the doors of the Grand-Nesle to her. She asked permission to visit her neighbors, and it was most cordially granted.
But upon availing herself of this permission Dame Perrine was naturally brought in contact with her neighbors of the other sex. Dame Perrine was a buxom creature of thirty-six years, who confessed to twenty-nine of them. Plump and rosy still, and always prepossessing, her coming was quite an event in the studio, where ten or twelve worthy fellows were forging, cutting, filing, hammering, chiselling,—good livers all, fond of play on Sundays, of wine on Sundays and holidays, and of the fair sex all the time. Three of our old acquaintances, after three or four days had passed, were all brought down with the same arrow.
They were little Jehan, Simon-le-Gaucher, and Hermann the German.
Ascanio, Jacques Aubry, and Pagolo escaped the charm, having their minds on other things.
The other comrades may well have felt some sparks of this Greek fire, but they realized their inferior position, no doubt, and poured the water of their humility upon the first sparks before they became a conflagration.
Little Jehan loved after the manner of Cherubino, that is to say, he was in love with loving. Dame Perrine, as the reader will readily understand, had too much common sense to respond to such an ignis fatuus as that.
Simon-le-Gaucher could offer more reliable future prospects, and his flame promised to be more enduring, but Dame Perrine was a very superstitious person. She had seen Simon cross himself with his left hand, and she reflected that it would be necessary for him to sign the marriage contract with his left hand. Dame Perrine was convinced that the sign of the cross executed with the left hand was calculated to destroy rather than to save a soul, and in like manner no one could have persuaded her that a marriage contract signed with the left hand could have any other result than an unhappy menage. She therefore, but without disclosing the reasons for her repugnance, received Simon-le-Gaucher's first advances in a way to make him renounce all hope.
Hermann remained. Ah, Hermann! that was a different matter.
Hermann Was no coxcomb, like little Jehan, nor a man with the seal of Nature's displeasure upon him, like left-handed Simon; in Hermann's personality there was something honest and outspoken which appealed to Dame Perrine's heart. Moreover, Hermann, instead of having a left hand for the right and vice versa, made use of either or both so energetically that he seemed to have two right hands. He was a magnificent man too, according to all vulgar ideas. Dame Perrine therefore had fixed her choice upon Hermann.