The Bashful Lover Part 56

As for young Bruno, he contented himself with thrusting his tongue into his cheek again and muttering:

"Thanks! that's a fine sort of talk! This game will get spoiled!"

The breakfast was served. The waiter left the room with the urchin, and they took care to close the door behind them. Mademoiselle Chichette did not wait for Cherubin to escort her to the table; forgetting all the lessons she had had in behaving like a comme il faut person, she ran and took her seat in front of one of the covers, crying:

"Let's eat! let's eat! Oysters! ah! that's good!"

"She seems to be very hungry!" thought Cherubin, as he took his seat at the table. And he made haste to supply the young woman with oysters; but she did not wait for him to select them for her; she put them out of sight with wonderful rapidity, then held out her gla.s.s, saying:

"White wine, please; I'm very fond of white wine too."

Cherubin filled her gla.s.s with a white wine from a bottle which had been supplied with a long cork, to give it the appearance of sauterne; but it looked as if it were not drinkable with anything but oysters.

The young man considered that they were very badly served, generally speaking: the plates were the commonest china, the covers had not the ring of silverware, and the linen was very far from being fine. The wine, too, despite its yellow seal, seemed to him decidedly poor; but his conquest thought it delicious; she swallowed oysters, emptied her gla.s.s, called for more oysters and held out her gla.s.s to be filled, without any perceptible interval. Cherubin could not keep up with her; not until there were no more oysters on the table did Mademoiselle Chichette conclude to make a little pause.

"I will call the little concierge and tell him to take these things away," said Cherubin.

"No, no, I'll take 'em away myself!" replied Chichette; she rose, and with a turn of the hand cleared the table of plates and sh.e.l.ls, and brought two of the covered dishes. The young man tried in vain to prevent the lady from performing that task; she would not listen to him, and did not resume her seat until it was all done.

"Mon Dieu! how it distresses me to see you take all this trouble, madame la comtesse!" said Cherubin; "but you seem to have been brought up to household duties. In Poland, young ladies receive a less frivolous education, I see, than in France; and your n.o.ble parents did not disdain to teach you these little domestic details. They are dead, doubtless--your n.o.ble parents?"

"Yes, yes! Let's talk about something else! Let's see what's in this dish. Ah! how good it smells! It's rabbit! Oh! I'm so fond of rabbit!"

Cherubin did not fully agree with his inamorata; he did not like rabbit himself, and he found that the breakfast which had been ordered for him did not at all resemble what he ordinarily ate at restaurants in Paris.

But his companion was much less particular than he; she helped herself to the rabbit and seemed to enjoy it hugely; she even exclaimed from time to time:

"It's mighty well frica.s.seed!"

Cherubin offered her some wine with a different seal. Chichette drank red as well as white, then uncovered another dish, and shouted, leaping up and down in her chair:

"Ah! chowder! Oh! I'm glad of that! I'm so fond of chowder!"

"It seems to me that she's fond of everything!" thought Cherubin; "she certainly has been very well brought up; she doesn't play the prude!"

Chichette voted the chowder delicious; she helped herself several times without waiting for Cherubin to offer it; she was particularly enthusiastic over the sauce; finally she began to lick her plate, unwilling apparently to leave the least particle of the sauce which she liked so much.

The young man was thunderstruck when he saw the Comtesse de Globeska put her plate to her mouth and run her tongue over it; but he concluded that custom in Poland permitted such behavior. When Chichette noticed that her companion was watching her, she realized that she had made a blunder, and instantly replaced her plate on the table, saying:

"Oh! that was just a joke! I won't ever do it again! But let's see what's under that other cover."

Chichette uncovered the last dish, which contained fried fish. She uttered a joyful exclamation:

"Ah! gudgeons! fried gudgeons! Oh! I'm so fond of fried fis.h.!.+"

"I am delighted, madame, that you find all these things to your taste,"

said Cherubin, serving his charmer to gudgeons; "but really you are not hard to suit; to me it seems that our breakfast is not worthy of you.

Evidently there are no good restaurants in this quarter."

"Oh, yes, yes! at La Courtille."

"At La Courtille! I don't know that place; did your husband take you there to dinner sometimes?"

"My husband! Oh! let's talk about something else. I'd like something to drink; gudgeons make you thirsty in a minute."

Cherubin hastened to supply his guest with a wine decorated with a different seal, which she drank and declared excellent. The young man would have liked to lead the conversation back to his love, but his conquest was so busily engaged in eating and drinking that he dared not divert her from an occupation in which she seemed to take so much pleasure; and then he recalled his breakfast with Madame Celival and said to himself:

"I ate heartily to drive away my bashfulness. Perhaps this pretty Pole is doing the same; but G.o.d grant that she doesn't end as I did!"

When there was no more fish, they pa.s.sed to the dessert, which was very modest, consisting only of biscuit, cheese and dried fruit. Again Cherubin anathematized the restaurant keeper; but Chichette continued to declare everything excellent; she stuffed herself with figs, raisins, and biscuit; she drank several gla.s.ses in succession to wash it all down; and at last she stopped eating and leaned against the back of her chair.

"It's strange," she said, "but I'm not a bit hungry now."

"It would be much stranger if she were!" thought the young man, as he moved away from the table in order to approach his companion.

Having placed his chair close beside Chichette's, he ventured to take her hand.

"How fortunate I am," he said in a hesitating tone, "to be--to be with you! What a lucky chance it was that led me to the theatre where you were; for, but for that, I should never have met you; and yet, my friend, the gentleman who was with me that evening says that we were born for each other.--Do you think that, madame?"

Chichette rose hurriedly, saying:

"I am rather full; it's funny, for I didn't eat very much."

She walked several times around the room. Cherubin went to her and said:

"Do you feel ill?"

"Oh, no! it will pa.s.s off."

Chichette sat down again, not on her chair, but on an old couch, covered with spots, the cus.h.i.+ons of which looked as if they were stuffed with chips. The girl stretched herself out on it, however.

"I say, this is mighty comfortable," she said.

Cherubin gazed amorously at her and cried:

"Oh, yes! there certainly was sympathetic attraction in our meeting. My tutor, Monsieur Gerondif, explained it to me once. He took a little piece of agate, rubbed it hard on his coat sleeve, then held it toward a straw, and the straw instantly jumped at the stone and clung to it.--'Thus the magnet attracts iron,' said my tutor; 'thus sympathy draws together two hearts that were made to love and understand each other.'--Ah! madame, I am not a Pole, but I love you as dearly--more dearly, perhaps; for my inexperienced heart feels a craving for love, and if--and if----"

Cherubin paused, because it seemed to him that his words were accompanied by a dull, rumbling sound. That sound came from the couch.

He had noticed that his pretty companion closed her eyes while he was speaking, but he supposed that it was from modesty. However, desirous to learn the cause of the noise he heard, he approached the young woman and saw with surprise that she was not only asleep, but was snoring heavily.

The unfortunate lover gazed for some time at his sleeping enslaver; but the snoring became louder with every instant; ere long it was like the breath of a forge bellows, and Cherubin gradually drew away; he felt that his amorous desires were vanis.h.i.+ng; for a woman who is snoring like a Swiss inspires infinitely less pa.s.sion than one whose breathing is soft and light.

Cherubin seated himself on a chair.

"She is asleep," he said to himself; "she is even snoring. Evidently my remarks did not interest her much, as she went right off to sleep while she was listening to me! It's very strange! This young woman has such manners and uses such language--If Darena hadn't a.s.sured me that she was a Polish countess, I should have thought her something very different.

The idea of going to sleep while I was talking to her about my love! If that's the way she is mad over me!--Great heaven! what snoring!

Jacquinot used to snore, but not so loud as that. Perhaps I ought to wake her--and kiss her; but she is sleeping so soundly, it would be too bad. And then, I believe that listening to that monotonous noise is putting me to sleep too."

Cherubin dropped his head on the back of his chair; he closed his eyes, and in a moment, he was in the same condition as Mademoiselle Chichette, except that he did not snore.