“What shall I say?”—That was always the result of Chérubin’s reflections; and, pending Monfréville’s arrival, he went to Monsieur Gérondif, to consult him as to what a young man may find to say when he makes his first appearance in society.
Monsieur Gérondif was learning some of La Fontaine’s poetry by heart, intending to recite it to Mademoiselle Turlurette as his own. The tutor was not enamored of the housekeeper; he considered her over-developed for him, and he had views elsewhere; but Mademoiselle Turlurette’s functions included the department of preserves, sweetmeats and liqueurs, and Monsieur Gérondif was very fond of all such dainties.
When he saw his pupil enter his room, the tutor was thunderstruck; it was the first time that Chérubin had paid him a visit since they had been in Paris. He imagined that he wished to resume his studies, and he said:
“Everything is ready, my noble pupil. I am always expecting you. I have prepared abstracts of history, mythology and geology for you. I am always at work in your service. At this moment, as you are taking lessons in savate, I am trying to find the origin of that form of exercise in Plutarch’s lives of illustrious men. I find the cestus, boxing and wrestling, but I haven’t yet found savate.”
“I thank you, Monsieur Gérondif,” replied Chérubin, “but that is not what I have come about. This evening Monsieur de Monfréville is to take me into society; he declares that it is necessary for me to go there, that I shall acquire refined manners there; he is probably right, and I have promised to let him take me. But what do people say at a fashionable reception? How should one behave? Do you talk with people whom you don’t know?—I thought that you could tell me that, you know so many things; for as yet I haven’t been anywhere except to the theatre and concerts, and to cafés; and I must confess that I am terribly afraid of cutting a foolish figure in company.”
“Foolish!” cried Gérondif; “that is impossible! You forget that you are my pupil; you are not equal to me in Horace and Virgil, but you know some passages—you must repeat them when you are talking with men. With the ladies, it is different; employ those figures of speech, those metaphors, which embellish discourse; compare them to Venus, Diana, Juno, Hebe, and you will certainly win a surprising triumph. But, if you wish me to go with you, I will stand behind you and prompt you.”
Chérubin did not consider it necessary to be attended in company by his tutor; he believed that Monfréville would keep his promise and would not leave him.
Monfréville called for his young friend at the hour appointed. He was dressed in the most perfect taste; his slender and shapely figure was encased in an exquisitely fitting coat, which he wore with much grace. His youthful bearing, his beautiful dark hair and his still charming face made him seem barely thirty years old, although he was near forty.
Chérubin, who was dressed in the latest style, still retained a trace of the awkwardness characteristic of village youths; but as he was well-built and had a most attractive face, the awkwardness of his carriage sometimes resembled the innocent coquetry of a schoolboy.
They entered the carriage, and Monfréville said: