“Ah! and what might a selam be?”
“It’s a bouquet with a meaning.”
“Excellent!”
“When a man has a daughter named Polymnie, he ought to be more learned,” said Madame Dufournelle laughingly to Mademoiselle Mangeot; and she, being a little hard of hearing, replied:
“Yes, I think it will be fine.”
Meanwhile Madame Glumeau, noticing her husband’s repeated signals, determined to leave the salon without asking leave of the latest comers. And fearing that other guests might arrive to detain her, she made her escape by a door leading to her bedroom.
When he saw his wife disappear, Monsieur Glumeau uttered an exclamation of satisfaction which was drowned by the arrival of Monsieur Kingerie, the young man who did whatever anyone desired. He was a little fellow, who always acted as if he were ashamed of himself; on entering the room, he began by blushing to the ears, ran into a chair that was between himself and the master of the house when he attempted to salute him, and as he rose after picking up the chair, he ran his head into Monsieur Glumeau’s stomach. That gentleman uttered a savage oath, while the timid Kingerie, distressed beyond words at what he had done, hastily stepped back and trod on Mademoiselle Mangeot’s foot; and as she was afflicted with corns, she pushed the awkward youth violently away, whereupon he collided with Monsieur Camuzard, causing his spectacles to fall off.
Madame Dufournelle laughed until she cried, saying to her husband:
“Pray stop that gentleman or he will upset the whole company.”
They got young Kingerie seated at last; he was at a loss to apologize for his awkwardness and seemed disposed to weep; but, luckily for him, other guests arrived, so that he ceased to monopolize the attention.