“You didn’t look to see me, my boy, eh? Ah! I should say not! This is a surprise, you see; one of your good friends, he writ to me as how it’d do you good to see your mother, and told me I’d better try to get here this very day, ‘cos it’s your wife’s birthday.”
At this point the guests looked at one another, trying to divine who it was who had arranged this surprise for Monsieur de la Thomassinière; and among those who were not responsible there were some who regretted that it had not suggested itself to them. As for the master of the feast, he was still too completely crushed by the blow that had been dealt him, to attend to what his mother said; and Athalie seemed to be on the point of swooning.
“So at that,” continued Mère Thomas, “I says to myself, says I: ‘Off we go!’ I had a bit of money put by, and that paid for my seat in the diligence, where we was packed together as tight as herrings, saving your presence, messieurs and mesdames; and here I be in Paris, where you’ve feathered your nest so well!”
The Marquis de Cligneval, who was seated opposite Monsieur de la Thomassinière, determined to put an end to the embarrassment of his host, upon whose purse he drew too freely not to be ready to shut his eyes to the lowly condition of his parents. So he hastened to intervene, and observed pleasantly:
“It is really very amiable on your excellent mother’s part to surprise you like this. She was in such haste that she came in rather a négligé costume. But what does it matter? you are among your friends. Pray let her sit beside me; I shall be delighted to make her acquaintance. She has a most venerable face—a Greek profile. I am very fond of country people; they have such delightful dispositions.”
La Thomassinière looked at the marquis with an expression which signified: “You have saved my life!” while Mère Thomas exclaimed:
“What’s that he says—I came in négligé. But you’re wrong, my boy; I put on my Sunday best.”
“Hush! hush, mother, for heaven’s sake!” whispered La Thomassinière. “Be careful; you’re speaking to a marquis.”
“A what? What did you say, Thomas?—But I say, where’s my darter-in-law? Show her to me, my boy; wouldn’t she like to give her man’s mother a kiss?”
“Madame de la Thomassinière, pray embrace your mother-in-law,” said Madame Destival, with a mocking glance at Athalie.