Frenzied, decided upon everything, she darted to a chiffonier, drew out an illuminated card, upon which two doves were pecking one another, and threw it at me with a queenly air, exclaiming:
"There, my dear fellow you will see if I still have any need of you!"
I picked up the card and read what was written upon it:
LEDUC (D'ARPAJON),
Drum-Major of the 79th Regt. of the Line.
To the divine ZOUHRA—Everlasting Love!
It would be useless for me to describe to you the end of the scene.
When I had laughed enough, I allowed myself the delightful pleasure of undeceiving my faithless houri by explaining to her her unfortunate mistake as to the rank of her conqueror, whom she had mentally endowed with a fortune in keeping with the height of his plume.[1] I destroyed her dream of every bliss by reducing it to so much bliss as was procurable with a full pay of a franc and a half per diem.
[1]Zouhra with her imperfect knowledge of French had concluded that Leduc (D'Arpajon) meant "the Duke of Arpajon"—whereas, in reality, Leduc, a single word, was the drum-major's name; D'Arpajon implying that he came from, or belonged to, the little market town of Arpajon, not far from Paris.—Trans.
As I made these crushing revelations you might have seen her gradually sinking and collapsing, with her pretty purple lips just parted, and her gazelle's eyes staring with frightened astonishment. She was the picture of consternation.
All at once she darted towards me and abruptly caught me in her arms.
"Ah! it is you that I love!—you that I love!" she exclaimed in a pathetic tone amid her transports.