The moment came at last. I set out with my heart full of Armantine's image. I arrived at her door. I remembered that in society one must wear a mask, so that one's secret thoughts may not be divined. But that mask embarrassed me; I could hardly endure it.
There were a good many people there before me. So much the better, I thought. The more numerous the company, the greater one's freedom of action. Monsieur Sordeville greeted me warmly, shook my hand, and reproached me for not coming to their little receptions for several weeks. His excessive amiability should have made me remorseful; but I had never had the slightest liking for the man; and, in any event, why did he neglect his wife?
I succeeded in approaching her for whose sake, and that alone, I had come. She greeted me most graciously; but when I tried to exchange with her one of those glances which are far more eloquent than empty words, I could not meet her eye. She had turned to a young man who had just been presented to her, and received his compliments with a profusion of little smirks and grimaces, which were very pretty, perhaps, but which I considered sadly out of place at that moment. I flattered myself, however, that my turn would come; that she had not forgotten that I was there, within a few feet. But lo! the fair-haired youth of the other evening, Monsieur Mondival, came up and entered into conversation with her; the fellow must have said something very amusing, to make her laugh so heartily! But Madame Dauberny had assured me that the man was stupid, and I relied upon her judgment. Next, a tall man, with black beard, whiskers, and moustaches, came to pay his respects to the mistress of the house. She greeted him with a smile, playing with her fan; their conversation seemed likely to be protracted, and I began to grow weary of waiting for my turn. I walked away, presumably with a very long face; and to cap the climax of my woes, I almost ran into the arms of the gentleman who kept his eyes almost closed, but who saw well enough to recognize me, and entered into conversation with me.
I have no idea what answer I made. I turned my back on him, for he bored me beyond words. I watched the whist players for a while, but soon returned to the salon where Armantine was, saying to myself:
"It can't go on like this; if she laughs with others, there is no reason why she shouldn't laugh with me; I am a fool not to stand my ground."
And I approached Madame Sordeville, who was talking with a lady. Suddenly she turned toward me and burst out laughing.
"Mon Dieu! what on earth is the matter with you to-night, Monsieur Rochebrune? What a horrible face you are making! Have you the toothache?"
When one is already in an ill temper, and is trying to conceal it, there is nothing more maddening than to have someone ask what the matter is; the result is that, instead of simply looking unhappy, you make a grimace; and that is probably what I did, for Armantine restrained with difficulty a longing to laugh again, while I muttered, biting my lips:
"The matter, madame? Why, nothing. What do you suppose is the matter? I have never had the toothache."
"Monsieur," said a tall, thin old woman, who was sitting beside Madame Sordeville, and had, I suppose, heard my last words, "put in some cotton soaked in eau de Cologne. Soak the cotton thoroughly and put it in the tooth. It's an excellent remedy, I assure you! It doesn't take away the pain at once, but, after a few days, you suffer much less."