Frédérique, vol. 1

by Paul de Kock

"But what was it that you thought?"

"Nothing; or, rather, I don't choose to tell you."

"You must have seen your friend often since that evening?"

"Only once. I have no idea what she is doing now. She is hardly ever seen in society. She probably has something to keep her busy. Saint-Bergame must be replaced. For you know, I suppose, that they have quarrelled? Frédérique is not in the habit of remaining unengaged. Before Saint-Bergame there was another, and before him another, and another. She loves variety."

I admire the way women abuse their intimate friends! At that moment, I wondered what they would say when they spoke of their enemies; the difference could hardly be perceptible.—And so Madame Dauberny had had a large number of weaknesses! She had never had a serious attachment! That was a pity; and it surprised me; for it seemed to me that she was just the woman to inspire one.

I do not know what I should have said in reply to Madame Sordeville's remark, but a visitor arrived: a lady of uncertain age, almost lost in gauze and lace and veils, which were heaped upon her head and hung down about her body. I fancied that I had a cloud before me, or one of Isabey's pictures, minus the beautiful coloring. I surrendered my place to that atmospheric personage, and took my leave. Madame Sordeville made me promise to attend her next reception, and honored me with a glance that filled my soul with joy.

I left the house, as light as a feather. I did not walk, I fairly bounded. Pleasure transformed me into a goat; I longed to dance. You will consider, doubtless, that I was very childish, and that a man who had had so many amorous adventures should have been more blasé; you are entirely wrong, for I was blasé in no respect; my last bonne fortune made me as happy as the first of all. That was a dispensation of Providence in my favor, for blasé people have two drawbacks: they do not enjoy themselves, and they bore their friends.

Pomponne smiled again when I reached home; that fellow was not such a fool as I supposed: he read my face very well indeed.

I waited impatiently for the Thursday which was to give me an opportunity to see the charming Armantine once more. I had thought of nothing else since my call upon her; she was so affable and expansive that day, that I believed that the moment of my happiness could not be very distant. She had received the avowal of my love without indignation; nay, she had seemed to listen to it with pleasure; she had abandoned her hand to me and let me put it to my lips; and, but for that inopportune visitor, who could say that I should not have obtained more? No matter! it seemed that I was fairly justified in hoping.

Thursday arrived in due course. Pomponne was ordered to surpass himself in dressing my hair; I do not know whether he succeeded, but I do know that he pulled my hair for half an hour; so that he made my head extremely sore. But I did not scold him. I dressed with my eye on the clock. I longed to be there, but I said to myself that it was more adroit to make her wait a little—and I had no doubt that she was waiting for me.