The Milkmaid of Montfermeil Part 15

"Oh! mon Dieu!" cried Athalie, pressing against her neighbor; "how you frightened me with your cork!"

"The storm seems to frighten you terribly, my dear love," said Madame Destival, with a sneer.

"Oh, yes! terribly!"

"My wife's nerves are extremely sensitive."

"Look out, you're not pouring into the gla.s.s, Destival."

"That confounded flash dazzled me. Will your charming wife have some?"

"Yes, I'm very fond of champagne. Please make it foam a lot, monsieur."

"Here you are, belle dame.--Come, Dalville, drink with madame."

"That is just what monsieur is doing," said Madame Destival spitefully.

"And you, Monin, pa.s.s your gla.s.s."

"Oh! I was just going to say that I must go; my wife's afraid of thunder."

"Why, your wife's making pickles, you know; she's busy."

"But when it thunders she drops everything and crawls under a woolen quilt, and if I shouldn't go to see how she is--Oh! what a cras.h.!.+ it came very soon after the lightning, so the storm can't be far away."

"Suppose we have a little music?" said Monsieur Destival, helping himself to a third gla.s.s of champagne, in order to recover his courage; "it seems to me that that wouldn't be a bad idea. What do you say, Dalville?"

Auguste had stooped to pick up his knife, which he had dropped under the table for the second time.

"Monsieur is awkward to-day," said Madame Destival, rising from the table with a gesture of impatience; "I believe that we shall do well to go up to the salon."

At that moment the clouds broke, the rain fell in torrents, and the fields a.s.sumed a novel aspect. Everybody rose; the pet.i.te-maitresse leaned heavily on Auguste's arm, because the storm had taken away all her strength. Monsieur de la Thoma.s.siniere, desirous to play the scholar, because he thought that his companions were no more learned than he, went to one of the windows and declared that the storm would not be _consequential_ because the atmosphere was very beautiful at sunset.

Auguste could not restrain a slight laugh, which caused the trembling Athalie to press his arm all the harder. Monsieur Destival, who had recovered his spirits in some measure since the rain began, which made the storm much less dangerous, executed a half wheel to the left of the company, and charged up the stairs at the double-quick. Monin was left alone in the dining-room, folding his napkin as a matter of habit, and muttering as he listened to the rain:

"It's coming down hard, and I haven't any umbrella, and they've made a hole in the top of my cap! so what am I going to do?"

Having taken snuff two or three times, our friend decided to address Julie, who had just pa.s.sed through the room. He followed her, calling after her:

"I beg pardon, mademoiselle, but couldn't you----"

As Julie did not reply, Monin followed her to the kitchen, where Bertrand was drinking with Baptiste and Monsieur de la Thoma.s.siniere's three tall footmen, who did not agree with their master that the beaune was too new.

"Could you lend me an umbrella?" asked Monin.

"We haven't any here," Julie replied curtly.

"Nonsense! an umbrella!" said Bertrand, in whom the beaune had already aroused a tendency to talk. "As if a man should use such a thing! Is that what I taught you this morning--to handle an umbrella?"

The guests began to laugh, and Julie elbowed Monin gradually toward the door, saying:

"I don't like to have so many people in my kitchen, monsieur; they get in my way. Besides, you don't belong here."

Julie closed the door; and Monin, finding himself expelled from the kitchen, decided to go up to the salon and wait until the storm should have subsided. Dalville and Athalie were at the piano, singing a nocturne. Monsieur Destival was playing ecarte with Monsieur de la Thoma.s.siniere; and Madame Destival, while pretending to watch the game, lost nothing of what took place at the piano.

"I have the honor to wish you good-evening," said Monin, noiselessly entering the salon.

"Why, haven't you gone, neighbor? I supposed that you were at home before this."

"No, I'll tell you--the rain----"

"In that case, you must take a hand. Come, bet on me and you will win."

"Can I bet now?"

"Yes, it isn't too late."

"All right; then I'll bet two sous."

"What sort of bet is that--two sous!" exclaimed La Thoma.s.siniere contemptuously; "do you suppose that I play for copper? It's vulgar enough to play for a crown. Take that away, monsieur, it's covered with verdigris."

"It's my two sous, monsieur; I bet them."

"No one wants them, monsieur."

"What! have I won already?"

"Here, I'll fix that," said Destival, taking a ten-sou piece from his pocket; "I'll add eight sous to make up Monin's bet. So I stake three francs forty, and you, my dear fellow, three francs ten. My neighbor is prudent, you see, and yet he is very rich, in very comfortable circ.u.mstances. His nest is well feathered, the rascal!"

"Then how can he propose to bet two sous?" said La Thoma.s.siniere; "it's beyond belief.--Ace, ace, and ace. You are robbed."

"What! does he admit that he has robbed us?" Monin asked his neighbor in an undertone.

"That means that we have lost.--Well, now for our revenge.--Aren't you betting, Madame Destival?"

"No, monsieur, I prefer to listen to the singing."

"Betting won't prevent you, madame; I don't lose a note while I am playing."

"Nor I," said La Thoma.s.siniere. "I am like Cato, I can easily do four things at once!"

"Haven't you any duets of Rossini's here, my dear?" inquired Athalie, running her fingers over the keys.

"Why, I don't know, but I think not."

"I think, madame, that I have had the pleasure of singing some of them with you here," said Dalville.

"Ah! you remember, do you, monsieur?"