“If you would allow me to find you sometimes, madame, you would not have that trouble.”
“Oh! no sentiment, monsieur, I beg; remember that we came here only to be foolish.”
They reached the shady nook where a dainty repast was spread. A petite-maîtresse puts coquetry into everything, and the open-air breakfast, although it consisted simply of milk, eggs, butter, fruit and excellent wine, seemed far richer when served by a lovely woman, in china decorated with lovely landscapes. Daintiness never spoils anything; it often enhances the value of the simplest things, and a certain wine which has a most delectable flavor in an artistically cut glass, might seem poor stuff in a beer mug.
They had been at table a quarter of an hour, talking, laughing, and eating heartily, because dancing, enjoyment and the fresh air sharpen the appetite, when they heard Monsieur de la Thomassinière’s voice in a path near by.
“There’s my husband,” said Athalie; “I was sure that he’d come; he’s very fond of this place. But he has brought somebody with him.”
“Let us pray that it isn’t some horrible bore,” said one of the young men.
“Oh! what does it matter? If it’s anyone who bores me, I shall pay no attention to him, and you must do as I do, messieurs.”
Monsieur de la Thomassinière appeared with a man of mature years, but dressed in the latest fashion, whose gait and manners, and even his voice, were affected. He had a distinguished face, but his look was a little deceitful; he smiled almost constantly, and frequently raised to his eyes an eye-glass, through which he admired the flowers, trees and shrubs.
“Here they are!” said Monsieur de la Thomassinière, when he caught sight of the little party. “My valet did not deceive me, and my concierge’s information was accurate. This way, monsieur le marquis, this way.”
“What’s this? my husband has brought a marquis to see me!” exclaimed Athalie; “come, messieurs, we must make a little room for him. Really, Monsieur de la Thomassinière is as rattle-brained as I am! The idea of not letting me know!”