[A] The droit du seigneur was the privilege enjoyed by the feudal lord of first sharing the bed of every newly-married woman among his feudatories.
I reached the house. I went up to the third floor. I heard children crying and recognized the voices of Mademoiselle Joséphine Giraud and her older brother. Blended with them were the strains of a piano and a flute, from which I concluded that the party was at its height.
I entered the dining room. A maid whom I did not know was filling glasses with sugar and water; I thought that she tasted it to make sure that it was good. The brother and sister were quarrelling over a piece of cake. At that moment Monsieur Giraud came from the salon, carrying in his hand a lamp with a globe; he came toward me with his lamp.
“Is it you, my dear Monsieur Blémont? Delighted to see you. Ah! why didn’t you come a little earlier? Céran just sang, and he was in fine voice; it was wonderful! And we have just had a concerted piece for the flute and piano. Two amateurs; and they played it with extraordinary fire. This infernal lamp won’t burn; I don’t know what’s the matter with it. Come in, come in. We have a lot of people. There will be more singing. And there are some very pretty women; there are several marriageable ones, my dear fellow, and with good dowries. If you should happen to want—you know, you will have to come to it at last.—The devil take this lamp; the wick is new, too.”
I entered the salon, but it was very difficult to move there; in the first place, the room was not large, and the ladies were all seated in a circle which no man was permitted to break as yet; so that one must needs be content to walk behind the ladies’ chairs, at the risk of disturbing some of them, or of treading on the feet of the men who were standing in the narrow passage. I know no greater bore than a party where the ladies are drawn up in that way, like borders in a garden, not talking with the men, and intent solely upon staring at one another from the top of the head to the soles of the feet, in order to see what they may criticise. To add to the discomfort which always prevails in such an assemblage, the salon was very dimly lighted: a large lamp, the mate of the one I had seen in Giraud’s hands, diffused only a vague light; and a few candles, placed at considerable distances apart on the furniture, were not sufficient to supplement the light furnished by the lamps. All this, added to the silence of the ladies and to the low whisperings in which the gentlemen ventured to indulge, imparted a touch of gloom and mystery to the function; one might have imagined oneself at Robertson’s theatre during the phantasmagoria.
I spied Madame Giraud in the passageway. She saw me too, and tried to come to me by pushing aside several gentlemen, and smiling at those who moved only half enough, so that they might have the pleasure of rubbing against her. At last we met. As I could not understand the behavior of those gentlemen, who talked in low tones as if they were at church, I ventured to inquire for the hostess’s health in my ordinary voice, which drew all eyes toward me for a moment; it did not produce an ill effect however, for several young men, who probably had not dared to break the ice, at once began to talk more freely, and the mysterious whisperings became less frequent.
“If you had come sooner,” said Madame Giraud, “you would have heard a fine performance. Ah! we had something very fine just now.”
I was tempted to reply that it was not at all fine at present, but I did not do it; in society it is not safe to say all that one thinks; one who did so would be very unwelcome. In a moment, Madame Giraud exclaimed:
“Where on earth is Monsieur Giraud? What is he doing with his lamp? This one won’t go now! How unpleasant it is!—What do you think of that young woman by the fireplace? Forty-five thousand francs in cash, and expectations. That is not to be despised. You will hear her in a moment: she is going to sing something Italian. Ah! how angry Monsieur Giraud makes me!”
At last Monsieur Giraud reappeared, proudly carrying the lamp, which diffused a brilliant light. He placed it on a table, saying: