Brunzbrack left me, to dog the steps of the woman he adored, and I continued to prowl about Armantine. We were both playing the same game. Should we have luck? Up to that time, I had seen no prospect of it.
Monsieur Mondival sang several ballads; he sang them precisely as a schoolboy repeats his lessons; but as the ballads themselves were amusing, the company laughed heartily, and the singer attributed it to his own performance, whereas his only merit was his skilful choice of songs.
After he had finished, the black-bearded man, who had talked a long while with Armantine, seated himself at the piano, and sang a grand aria with infinitely more assurance than voice. But assurance is a great thing in society. He was loudly applauded, and when he left the piano I was certain that Madame Sordeville complimented him. If I chose—one thing was certain, that I had a better voice than that man.
All this irritated me; I was intensely annoyed to find that she paid no attention to me, and I went to the piano and began to turn over the music. But she observed my movements sufficiently to see that I was there, for she came to me and said:
"It's a great pity that you sing only when you are alone; for I should have been delighted to hear you, monsieur."
"Mon Dieu! if it will give you any pleasure, madame——"
"You will sing? How good of you!"
"I will try to sing something. I don't know whether I can manage it."
"Oh! that is an amateur's modesty! I am sure that you sing beautifully."
She walked quickly to a seat, saying: