“Before long, madame, I hope——”
“They have a calèche and a landau and a coupé, and we have only a very shabby cabriolet! But monsieur must needs learn to drill, instead of giving his attention to making money!”
“I have several affairs under way, madame. If I sell Monin that house——”
“Well, come to some conclusion about it, monsieur. I tell you that I can’t live like this any longer; I must have two new cashmeres, a lady’s maid, a calèche, and a country house where I can give parties; not like that old barrack at Livry, which I can’t endure now.”
“Never fear, madame. I must have a clerk, a man cook, and a negro servant. I am going to venture into some new schemes, and you will see that we will soon crush that miserable parvenu, who murders the language with an assurance that suffocates me.”
The calèche, drawn by two spirited horses, bore away Athalie and the four young men of fashion, among whom was Dalville. Each of the four paid court to the petite-maîtresse, who had the art of distributing a word, a smile, a glance, to each in turn, and revelled deliciously in the homage that was laid at her feet. Is there a greater joy for a true coquette than to be surrounded by men who wear her chains? Athalie was vivacious and playful; they knew that, to please her, they must be overflowing with hilarity, and the four gentlemen vied with one another in doing and saying the most extravagant things. Among all the bons mots that were made, there were some very bad ones; for the more one tries to be witty, the less success one has. But Athalie, grateful for the efforts they made to entertain her, greeted them all with bursts of laughter; and the gentlemen zealously followed suit, although they would have been sorely puzzled sometimes to say what they were laughing about. In the midst of this running fire of nonsense, the light vehicle arrived at the country house.
Madame de la Thomassinière’s property at Fleury was a charming abode, which, in truth, left the little country house at Livry a long way behind. There, everything witnessed to luxury and elegance: spacious courtyards, cardrooms, ballrooms and banquet-halls; peristyles of a severely simple style of architecture led to daintily furnished apartments; nothing had been forgotten that could increase the comfort and pleasure of the occupants of that charming abode. In the gardens, which were of vast extent, you found summer-houses for reading, for work, or for repose; cool grottoes, shady walks, dense shrubbery, labyrinths where one could lose oneself, delicious nooks where the rippling murmur of a brook invited one to dream or to do something else; and over that enchanting spot a lovely woman of twenty years reigned supreme and gave no thought to anything save the invention of new forms of amusement.
While the mistress of the house gave orders for an out-of-door breakfast, the gentlemen strolled about the gardens and admired their manifold beauties. Auguste walked alone toward a hedge between the garden and the orchard. It was a part of the garden where no one ever walked. Why, then, did Auguste turn his steps in that direction? Because he had caught sight of a short skirt and a little cap beyond the hedge, and an irresistible fascination drew the young man toward whatever suggested anything feminine.
Auguste entered the orchard, therefore, and saw a young woman picking apricots. She had neither the refined features nor the charm of Denise. She was simply a rosy-cheeked, fresh, buxom damsel; but there are men who prefer that to waterfalls, grottoes and labyrinths constructed at vast expense; Auguste was one of them. Who would believe that a simple petticoat may be awarded the preference over the marvelous creations of art; that it may disturb the peace of an empire, overturn a republic, crush a whole people, astound the universe, ordain laws, and cause half of mankind to lose their senses? O Cleopatra, Elizabeth, Delilah, Judith, Ninon! your petticoats wrought all these miracles! To be sure, it was not your petticoats exactly to which your thanks were due.
The stout girl was standing on a ladder that rested against the tree, and was plucking the ripest fruit. Auguste walked to the ladder and looked up; I presume that he was looking at the apricots.