“Excuse me, madame, if I leave you; but my wife must have finished dressing, and I must return for her.”
“If your wife is waiting for you, why, go, monsieur; and see to it that she never waits for anybody else. Ha! ha!”
I saw that Lucile had not forgiven me. I left her. I was unable to conceal the vexation that that woman caused me to feel. I jumped into the carriage which took me back to Eugénie. She was waiting for me; the sight of her, a single word from her lips, speedily dissipated that slight cloud. Eugénie was dazzling; her charms, her graces, her lovely dress, everything combined to add fascination to her aspect. I took her hand.
“It is time to go to the ball; let us start,” said Madame Dumeillan and my mother. I held Eugénie’s hand, I was looking at my wife, and I had forgotten everything else.
Our appearance in the salons was greeted with a flattering murmur. Words of praise rang in my ears, and I admit that they flattered my heart too; it was my wife who was the object of universal admiration. Eugénie blushed and lowered her eyes; but it would have been difficult for her to avoid hearing the compliments which were rained upon her as she passed.
There were many people already there, and my acquaintances came forward to greet me. Giraud took my hand and pressed it. I felt inclined to be friendly with everyone, I was so happy! The men crowded about my wife to obtain the favor of dancing with her; they took their numbers, and I overheard one of them say that he was number twenty-six. Judging from that, it was evident that I could not look forward to dancing with my wife that night. But I made the best of it, and invited other ladies to dance.
I spied a little man, pushing and jostling everybody to make a passage for himself; it was Bélan, escorting a young lady who was at least a head taller than he, and with whom he was about to dance. When they passed me, they stopped, and he said to me:
“My friend, this is Mademoiselle Armide de Beausire, of whom I have spoken to you so often.”
I bowed low before Mademoiselle Armide, who was neither beautiful nor ugly, and whose eyes were almost as large as her mouth; but there was in her face and in her whole person something stiff and prim which smelt of the province a league away.
People crowded around Bélan and Mademoiselle Armide to see them dance. The little man danced very well; and as he had a very good figure, he had procured tight trousers, a tight coat and a tight waistcoat; there was not a fold to be seen on his whole body; if his face had been black you would have thought that he was a little negro in puris naturalibus.