The Milkmaid of Montfermeil Part 45

"Shall I go with her, b.i.+.c.hette?"

"Greatly to be pitied, aren't you, for being chosen to receive a young lady's confidence!" rejoined Madame Monin, smiling at Monsieur Bisbis.

Whereupon Monin allowed the girl to take his hand and lead him to a corner of the salon, where she whispered in his ear:

"It's been a very fine day, monsieur."

Monin stared at the young lady with a dazed expression.

"What must I answer?" said he.

"Nothing," was the reply.

And the girl returned to her place, while Monin found his way back to his wife, saying to the people about him:

"It's a pretty game! I didn't know that I knew how to play it."

The next forfeit was Athalie's. She was condemned to _sulk_, and all the men sulked with her; and while sulking, Dalville obtained an a.s.signation. A very pretty thing, these innocent games! Well-brought-up young ladies are forbidden to waltz, but they are permitted to give or receive confidences, to hide with a young man, or to wait in a little dark closet until the concierge of the convent is relieved; and there are always kisses to be given and received in corners, secretly, behind curtains. If I ever have a daughter, I shall allow her to waltz in my presence, but forbid her to play _innocent_ games.

The spectacled man was condemned to pay a compliment without using the letter _a_. After scratching his forehead, he stepped into the middle of the circle and said with a satisfied air: "_La femme est le chef-d'oeuvre du monde_."

The next forfeit was Madame Monin's, who was told to take a trip to Cythera. She sprang to her feet and offered her hand to Monsieur Bisbis, saying:

"Come and travel with me."

The stout man submitted to be led into a small study, the door of which Madame Monin closed behind them, and Monsieur Monin, observing the manoeuvre, said to one of his neighbors:

"What are they going to do in there?"

"They're in Cythera."

"Oh, yes! I see what it is--another confidence; she's going to tell him that it's a fine day to-day. I know the game now."

After remaining some time, b.i.+.c.hette and her companion returned from Cythera; and some ladies noticed that the turban was somewhat out of place, and that Monsieur Bisbis did not know which leg to stand on--all of which did not prevent Monin from going to meet his wife and asking:

"Is it nice, b.i.+.c.hette?"

"What, monsieur?"

"At Cythera."

"Very nice, monsieur."

This reply was accompanied by a wanton glance at Monsieur Bisbis, who scratched his nose longer than usual, while Monin approached him with his snuff-box, saying:

"Do you take it too?"

The games were interrupted by the punch, which Domingo pa.s.sed around among the guests. He pa.s.sed the salver to the ladies, who made a great to-do about taking a gla.s.s of punch, which they declared was too strong, although some of them partook a second time. The men crowded about Domingo and seized the punch on the wing. Monin ran after the platter, which had pa.s.sed him several times; but he had not been able to capture a gla.s.s. At last, after following Domingo throughout his winding course among the guests, Monin succeeded in stopping him as he was returning to the dining-room.

"One minute, negro!" he said, putting out his hand toward the salver.

Domingo halted, muttering:

"You want drink again?"

"What's that? again!" cried Monin; "my word! he's a good one, he is! I haven't had a taste, and I'm very fond of punch."

As he spoke Monin glanced at the salver: all the gla.s.ses were empty. The poor man was thunderstruck.

"Me come again right away.--More punch, all hot," said Domingo, as he left the room; and Monin, for consolation, drew his snuff-box, and returned to the games, saying to himself:

"I must try to catch him sooner than I did this time."

Madame Monin, whom the trip to Cythera had made extremely warm, said to her husband when he returned to her side:

"Go get me another gla.s.s of punch, Monsieur Monin; the one I had wasn't half full; I am sure that it's done on purpose so that they can pa.s.s it round oftener without making any more."

"The negro has no more, b.i.+.c.hette; but he told me he'd come right back with some hot punch. So I----"

"All right, that will do. Go away now; I believe this gentleman is coming to ask me to make the _pont d'amour_."

But Madame Monin's hope was disappointed; it was not to her that the young officer condemned to make the _pont d'amour_ addressed himself but to Athalie, who laughingly a.s.sisted him to perform his penance; and Dalville observed with some vexation that the pet.i.te-maitresse made the _pont d'amour_ with others as readily as with him. For consolation he gave a kiss _a la capucine_ to a young lady whose husband emulated the Knight of the Rueful Countenance; and the school-girl received her youthful cousin's confidence while her mamma was arranging for another forfeit; and the pretty creature who held them in her dress pouted because the young officer had ceased to draw them; and the spectacled gentleman had been trying for an hour to draw another forfeit; while for most of those present the game was simply a pretext to enable everybody to remain beside the person to whom he or she was most attracted. That is something which the papas and mammas do not always see, and about which husbands give themselves little concern; but it is perfectly apparent to the keen observer, who seeks in a salon something besides an ecarte table, or a commonplace conversation with people whom he has never met before and whom he has no desire to meet again.

A fresh supply of punch diverted attention from the private conversations, and from the games, which were beginning to flag. Domingo was surrounded again and Monin started on the negro's trail; but the young men who laughingly besieged the salver constantly put aside the ex-druggist, who did not reach Domingo's side until the gla.s.ses were once more empty.

Sorely vexed, Monin returned to his wife, who had just finished her third gla.s.s and handed it to her husband to take away.

"It's rather good, isn't it, monsieur?" she said.

"I don't know whether it's good or not," growled Monin angrily; "I haven't succeeded yet in getting a taste of it."

"Because you're not clever and don't know how to go about it. You should have seen Monsieur Bisbis, how he pounced on the salver! I thought for a minute that he was going to take all the gla.s.ses. But you're so slow!"

"I'll tell you, b.i.+.c.hette--it's that negro----"

"Go away from here, monsieur. They're going to play _la mer agitee_ and I must be in it."

"What is _agitee_, b.i.+.c.hette?"

Seeing that his wife was paying no attention to him, it occurred to Monsieur Monin to lie in ambush at the door of the salon; in that way he hoped to be the first to seize the negro as he pa.s.sed, and so make sure of some punch. Highly pleased with his scheme, Monin took his stand like a sentinel at the entrance to the salon, stuffing his nose with snuff in order to be more patient. But he waited more than half an hour and Domingo did not appear. Monin ventured to glance into the dining-room.

He smelt the punch; that sweet-smelling vapor indicated that the mixture was not all consumed. He crept into the reception room, and, guided by the odor, reached a small door, which stood ajar, and discovered Domingo drinking punch, not from a small gla.s.s, but from a large porcelain pitcher. Monin was standing, speechless with surprise, in his corner, when Baptiste appeared from the servants' quarters with a plate full of biscuits. He pushed the negro aside, tossed off several gla.s.ses in quick succession, then dipped his biscuits in the punch and ate them hurriedly, while Domingo, by way of compensation, stuffed macaroons and nutcakes into his jacket pockets.

Monin was wondering whether he should go away, or should ask the servants' leave to take something, when Monsieur Destival, who had been calling vainly for Domingo and Baptiste in the salon, appeared on the scene and surprised them.

"Ah! you knaves! you scoundrels! I have caught you at it!" he cried, rus.h.i.+ng at his servants. Domingo ran from the room, but Baptiste stood his ground, and retorted, undismayed:

"Don't yell so loud for a little punch! Don't make such a row! I was very glad to have a drop of it myself; I've worked hard enough to-day."

"What does this mean, villain? You presume to argue! You wretch! eating my biscuit too! rascal! thief!"