“I know all about it, and I’ll tell you why: my wife has a——”
Having no curiosity to hear Monin’s story, Dalville followed the ladies, who had returned to the garden. Athalie’s presence aroused in the young man a desire to be agreeable. He had not expected to find any other lady than the mistress of the house, who was well enough, but with whom he no longer took pains to be agreeable. Why? Was it because he was no longer in love with her, or because he was sure of pleasing her, or—On my word, you ask me too much.
Madame de la Thomassinière’s vivacity and unconventionality harmonized perfectly with Auguste’s lively humor and free-and-easy manners; and as greater liberty is authorized in the country, after a very short time he and the petite-maîtresse were laughing and joking together as if they had known each other for years.
Madame Destival did not share their gayety; she was sulky, said little, and contented herself with darting eloquent glances at the young man from time to time; the more intimate her two companions became, the more her ill-humor seemed to increase. Meanwhile they were strolling about the garden; they sat down; then Madame de la Thomassinière went to look at a pretty view, or pluck a flower, or chase a butterfly, and as she sauntered back showed Auguste a double row of lovely teeth, and seemed to say:
“Why don’t you come with me?”
But Madame Destival did not leave her, and although visibly annoyed, she too ran after the butterflies.
“What on earth is the matter with you, my dear love?” said Athalie, good-humoredly; “you don’t seem very hilarious.”
“I beg pardon, I am satisfied; but a severe headache has just come on.”
“Go in the house and lie down for a moment.”
“No, my child, oh, no! I prefer to stay with you.”