“All right, Monsieur Monin, I know what I know.—Good-night, neighbors.—Well, monsieur, why don’t you put on your cap? What sort of way is that to act?”
Monin was afraid that his wife would discover the hole in his cap. He finally decided to wear it over his left ear, so that the top would be less visible to the eyes of his better half. And Madame Monin led her spouse away, promising him that she would never again let him dine out without her, because he was not careful of himself at the table, and wine made him plunge into all sorts of extravagance.
When his neighbors had gone, Monsieur Destival admitted that the drilling had fatigued him terribly, and he speedily vanished.
The music had cemented the intimacy between Dalville and the brilliant Athalie. With those who are capable of enjoying the charms of harmony, there is nothing that brings two hearts together so quickly as a sweet or tender ditty, or a passage overladen with passion, which the performers often address to each other. Music is a very potent auxiliary in love; it stirs the emotions, it speaks to the soul. Thank heaven, almost all our ladies know how to play the piano now.
But Athalie rose, and Madame Destival escorted her to her apartment. Before going in, the petite-maîtresse laughingly said to her friend:
“My dear, I must tell you something in confidence: I believe I’ve made a conquest of Monsieur Dalville.”
“Do you think so?”
“I am almost sure of it; he has been talking to me in that veiled way,—you know what I mean; and then he squeezed my hand very tenderly.”
“I congratulate you!”
“Oh! you understand that I mean to have a little sport with him, that’s all.”