“But I must tell you frankly that the conquest is of little value, for he is a man who falls in love with every woman he sees.—Adieu, my dear, good-night.”
“Until to-morrow, my love! I shall get up early for a walk in the fields.”
“I will go with you, my dear.”
The ladies parted. Madame Destival went down to the salon, but Dalville was no longer there; he too had retired. So madame did the same and summoned Julie to undress her.
VI
THE COMPANY RETURNS TO PARIS
The night passed. Did its protecting darkness banish Madame Destival’s irritation and her husband’s fatigue? Did Dalville determine to be virtuous, and Bertrand to be sober? Did the sprightly Athalie become reconciled to the necessity of sharing her husband’s bed, and did Monsieur de la Thomassinière sleep well beside his wife? These are mysteries which I am unable to solve.
All I know is that Madame Destival rose with her friend’s pleasant confidence of the night before still in her mind, and that she said to herself as she dressed:
“The flirt did everything that she could to assure the conquest of Auguste. I saw all her simpering and smiles while they were singing. No doubt she hopes to receive a declaration in due form this morning; but I am sorry for you, madame, for I shall be on the spot, I shall not let you out of my sight, I will not allow such intrigues to be carried on in my house. Oh! women are such coquettes nowadays!—I think I will put this rose in my hair; it’s more becoming than a ribbon. Mon Dieu! how badly my curl-papers work to-day!—And then they complain because men think unfavorably of our sex. Why, don’t they justify them in that opinion by acting as they do? At the very first meeting, to let a man see that one is attracted by him—shocking! And a woman of twenty, married two years at most! Ah! Monsieur Auguste, you don’t deserve any friends.”
Monsieur Destival, on laying aside the silk handkerchief that covered his head at night, took his stand in front of his mirror and presented arms with a vessel which he had forgotten to replace in the night-table. Forgetting that he was in his shirt, Destival, who had dreamed of exterminating all the beasts in the district, made the circuit of his chamber at the double-quick, and took aim at his bolster with the tongs. But in that martial posture the remembrance of the forty francs he had lost at écarté the night before presented itself to his mind, and as one cannot attend to business while practising the manual of arms, our friend recurred to more peaceable ideas and proceeded to dress, thinking of nothing but the best means to become as rich as La Thomassinière, so that he might be able to lose a few crowns at play without losing his temper.
Dalville dreamed a little of the fair Athalie, a little of the young milkmaid, a little of Madame Destival, also of some other persons; like one who has no exclusive sentiment in his heart, but allows himself to be led by all the sensations, all the illusions, all the whims of his imagination. He rose without any well-defined plan of operations, without a determination to be more virtuous or more enterprising, without any intention of beginning a new intrigue. Chance should decide, he would act as circumstances might suggest, he would obey the dictates of his heart, or rather of pleasure. For a heedless fellow, that line of conduct was not devoid of wisdom; if to abandon oneself to the course of events, to lay no plans in advance, but to seize on the wing every opportunity to be happy—if that is heedlessness, it bears a strong resemblance to philosophy; in which there is nothing surprising, since extremes meet.