Sister Anne (Novels of Paul de Kock, Volume X)

by Paul de Kock

Now that we know the Comte de Montreville and his son, let us enter the salons, where the most brilliant society of the capital was assembled, because, as Dubourg had said, it was the count's reception day.

The company was scattered through several rooms, all resplendent with the light of innumerable candles; here there was dancing, there card-playing; elsewhere, the guests were chatting, or strolling about, or standing where they could get a breath of air; the heat was intense in the cardroom, where it was almost impossible to force one's way through the crowd of bettors.

The ladies were remarkable for the elegance, and in some cases for the singularity, of their toilets. As a general rule, the costumes of the mothers are even more elaborate than those of the unmarried women. Is it because they think that their daughters stand less in need of external attractions? or is it true that coquetry increases as natural charm decreases? I do not presume to decide the question. It is different with men: with them, the ball costume, when once established, is soon adopted by all, and those who desire to distinguish themselves have no other resource than to dress their hair in some original way, or to devote their attention to the knot of their cravat; but this last-mentioned portion of the costume is beginning to be no longer a matter of choice.

But it was nearly three o'clock, and the party was drawing to a close. It was the best of all times for the observer to use his faculties; there were fewer people dancing, the circulation was less impeded, and the guests who remained ventured to talk and laugh a little. Toward the close of a ball, informality takes the place of ceremony, and many women do not begin to be charming until they cease to be affected. Some persons who had not previously had an opportunity to speak together were conversing in a corner of the salon. Young men chatted with the pretty partners, whom they invited from choice rather than necessity. The ladies smiled more sweetly upon their escorts; people drew nearer together, they knew one another better.

Monsieur de Montreville walked about his salons with the amiable manner of a host who excels in the art of doing the honors. He talked with an elderly marchioness who was sitting alone on a sofa; he said a courteous word to a lady who was not dancing; and, on his way to her, found time to bestow a compliment or two on the young dancers; he saw to it that the punch was passed around, and the ices; he spent a moment looking over the écarté table, and if somebody was wanted to take a bet he was always ready.

But what was Frédéric doing, leaning against that mantel-shelf? he seemed to be devoting his whole attention to the dance; but was it really the quadrille which interested him so deeply? and why, if he was thinking of nothing but that pretty maiden's agile movements, did he seem to be suffering? Yes, to the keen observer, his tranquillity was assumed, the smile which passed over his lips when he was spoken to was forced and unnatural. Frédéric was preoccupied, but not with the dance. A few feet away from him a young woman was seated, a young woman not more than twenty years old, although she had been three years married to a sexagenarian notary, who was in the cardroom at that moment.

Madame Dernange was very pretty; her vivacity, the sparkle of her eyes, her costume, her brilliant intellect, everything about her had a dazzling effect: she attracted, subjugated, enslaved, with a glance; but, as she knew the power of her charms, she sought constantly to add to the number of her adorers. At sixteen, she married Monsieur Dernange, without the slightest affection for him; but she married him joyfully. She was impatient to be her own mistress, and to give a free rein to her penchant for flirtation.

With a husband nearly sixty, she was very certain of being able to do just what she chose; and, in fact, Monsieur Dernange left her perfectly untrammelled. She was seen at all receptions, balls, festivities of every description. Sometimes her husband escorted her, but generally he went to bed about the time that his wife left the house; which did not prevent them from leading a very peaceful life. It is a very simple matter to live happily with your wife: all you have to do is just to allow her to do whatever she desires.

Monsieur Dernange had an abundance of savoir vivre; he was enchanted to have his wife enjoy herself. Many people declared that the young woman did not abuse his confidence, and it is very possible: she was a great flirt, but flirts love no one; however, it is not well to trust them too far.

Frédéric had not been able to look upon the brilliant Madame Dernange with an indifferent eye. She had had no difficulty in setting him on fire with a glance, and with a glance she had realized her triumph. The young Comte de Montreville was not a conquest to be disdained; Madame Dernange resolved to fasten him to her chariot, and for that nothing more was necessary than a glance or two, an occasional smile, a faint pressure of the hand, and a veiled remark uttered in a voice that seemed to tremble slightly. And the coquette used all her powers with such art! She was not in love, and she knew so well how to win love! A person who loves sincerely has much more difficulty in making an impression than one who does not love at all; for the latter is able to avail herself of all her advantages, while the other, striving to appear amiable, is often only awkward and embarrassed. Ninon said that, and Ninon knew what she was talking about.