And lastly Chérubin had met Mademoiselle Malvina several times, no longer dressed as a Swiss, but very alluring with her little pink tucker, her short skirt, and the black silk scarf, which was wound so lightly about her waist that it caused her hips to stand out in a very pronounced fashion. And Malvina had halted in front of the young man, shot a burning glance at him, and said:
“So you don’t mean to come to see me, Monsieur Chérubin? Do you know that that is very bad of you, and that you are an ungrateful wretch not to cultivate my acquaintance? You know my address—come and breakfast with me. I get up late, but I give you leave to come very early.”
Thus Chérubin was exposed to a rattling fire from a number of fair ones, when Daréna, who had found a way to freshen up his costume, called for him and took him to the Cirque, on Boulevard du Temple.
On the road the young man did not fail to tell Daréna all that had happened to him; and he, having listened attentively, said:
“It seems to me, my dear fellow, that you are a regular Faublas—all women adore you! And how is it with yourself?”
“Oh! I adore them too!”
“So you love Madame Célival, eh?”
“Why, yes, I think so; I find her very fascinating.”
“And the languishing Comtesse Valdieri?”
“Oh! I like her very much too.”