When he saw the immense room which was to be his bedroom, where there was an old-fashioned bed, reached by a set of steps, and surrounded by enormous curtains of crimson velvet, Chérubin made a wry face and exclaimed:
“Oh! how ugly it is here! I liked my little room at my nurse’s much better; it was more cheerful! I am going back there to-morrow, for it seems to me that I can’t sleep well here.”
But at sixteen years and a half, after a tiresome day, one sleeps well anywhere; and that is what happened to Chérubin.
As for Monsieur Gérondif, after bestowing an affable smile on Mademoiselle Turlurette, whom he called “mesdames,” because, his eyesight being a little blurred, he took her for two persons, he was escorted to his apartment, and was radiant with delight when he saw the fine room that had been prepared for him. He stretched himself out luxuriously in a soft bed, and gently laid his head on a pile of pillows, saying:
“I never slept in such a bed as this! I sink in, I drown! It is enchanting! I would like to pass my life in bed, and dream of the Mozambique dance!”
XIII
TO-MORROW
Chérubin woke late; he gazed about him in amazement and tried to collect his thoughts. He asked himself why he had left Gagny, his dear Nicole, and Louise, whom he loved so dearly. Then he thought of the magnificent dinner of the day before and of those four young women, who were so pretty and gay and amusing, and who danced so gracefully, casting soft glances at him the while. It was all well calculated to engross so inexperienced a head and heart.
Suddenly the crash of breaking furniture made Chérubin start; he turned his head and saw Jasmin standing in dismay beside a washstand that he had overturned.
“What is all this?” cried the young man, who could not help laughing at the grimace made by his old valet.
“It’s I, monsieur—it was because I didn’t want to make a noise and wake you.”