The White House Part 53

"To be sure, it is a tournament!" said Monsieur de la Pincerie.

"Precisely, a Greek and Roman tournament."

"A tournament!" said Uncle Mignon, standing on tiptoe. "Oho! the deuce!

Then these half-naked fellows are knights! I understand, I understand."

"I am strongly inclined to request some guaranty for the rest of their bodies," observed Monsieur Berlingue to one of his neighbors, while Madame Gerard, gazing at the six Auvergnats with all her eyes, exclaimed:

"Those fellows are well-built! Monsieur Gerard, you ought to appear as a gladiator some time; you would be superb."

Ferulus gave the signal by striking the rail with a stick and calling:

"We begin with the throwing of the discus. Strike up, orchestra, a warlike tune."

The orchestra began the air of Marlboro', which was the most warlike tune that the blind man knew, and the Auvergnats stepped forward, each holding in his hand a Brie cheese, which represented the discus which he was to throw, and which at a distance looked rather like the ancient quoit. The athletes hurled their cheeses with much skill; the target was below the stoop upon which Ferulus stood with solemn face. The three cheeses approached but did not quite reach the point necessary to be declared a winner, and the company standing on the balcony and at the windows, found that that particular sport exhaled an odor which was far from balsamic. But a fourth athlete appeared; he was of a more muscular build than his antagonists; he held in his hand a so-called discus, of formidable size and thickness, and exclaimed with a contemptuous glance at those who had already thrown theirs:

"You fellows couldn't throw any farther than that! Bah! _Sac_--f----!

See how prettily I'll put you out of the game!"

"The athlete's language is decidedly forcible!" said Monsieur Berlingue; and Robineau leaned over and shouted to Ferulus:

"Tell them not to talk! Let them content themselves with pantomime."

"Monseigneur," said Ferulus, "in all times, gladiators have provoked and stimulated one another by insults; even the knights of old did not spare epithets during the combat."

"Mesdames, that is the language of the knights of old," said Robineau; "you mustn't let it frighten you."

Meanwhile, the last athlete raised his right hand, on the palm of which rested the discus; he threw his body back, then hurled the discus with all his strength, and the cheese, pa.s.sing the target, struck Monsieur Ferulus full in the face.

All the ladies shrieked aloud, saying:

"Mon Dieu! He is wounded,--killed perhaps! The quoit struck him in the head!"

The librarian was suffocated for a moment by the blow, but the cheese had broken in halves, leaving upon his face some traces of its pa.s.sage; and he soon recovered himself, drew out a handkerchief, wiped his face, pa.s.sed his tongue over his lips, and cried:

"He is the winner; he threw beyond the mark; but he who can do more, can do less.--Sound, trumpets!"

The trumpets were represented by the violins; the Auvergnats uttered deafening shouts, the ladies produced their salts, and Monsieur de Tantignac observed:

"Ah! the discuses were of cheese! What a sell! I'll wager that I could throw one into the moon!"

"Uncle Mignon, find me some cologne, I implore you," said Eudoxie, hanging upon Edouard's arm, "for this sport smells altogether too much like a barnyard."

"You are not accustomed to it, mesdames, you will have many others!"

said Robineau, who believed that everybody was infatuated by what had just been seen; and he timidly took the end of Mademoiselle Cornelie's little finger, which she abandoned to him, apparently without perceiving the rapture with which he squeezed it.

Monsieur Ferulus, not observing that there were still some fragments of cheese upon his forehead and ears, had returned to his place, and once more tapped the rail with his stick, crying:

"The foot race, after the pattern of Hippomenes and Atalanta; with sticks instead of the golden apples, which will be vastly more natural."

Immediately, the Auvergnats began to race about the courtyard, and those who fell behind threw sticks between the legs of their comrades, to cause them to fall, so that they might reach the goal first. This game came to an end without accident; but the Chevalier de Tantignac cried:

"I don't see anything wonderful in running as these peasants do; I can go six leagues on one foot! That's rather a different thing!"

"Wrestling and boxing contests!" cried Monsieur Ferulus; whereupon the Auvergnats set about throwing one another down; but the peasants, being accustomed to this last form of exercise, showed more pride and obstinacy, and did their utmost to overthrow their antagonists. At such a game, tempers are easily aroused; from struggles they pa.s.sed to insults, from insults to blows, and already some faces were bruised and some noses bleeding.

"Enough! enough!" cried the ladies, in no wise amused by that spectacle.

"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, make those wretches stop!"

"Mesdames," cried Ferulus, "when the gladiators fought at Rome, at least half of them always remained upon the field."

"But, monsieur, we are not Romans, thank heaven! And we take no pleasure in seeing men hammer one another!"

To comply with the wishes of the ladies, Robineau ordered that the combatants be separated, although Monsieur de la Pincerie declared that it reminded him of the bull fights he had seen at Madrid. Two Auvergnats, more obstinate than the others, refused to desist; but at last Francois and the other servants succeeded in driving them onto the lawn, where they left them to fight it out.

Monsieur Ferulus next announced that the time had come to pa.s.s from the serious to the gallant; and the servants appeared with baskets filled with bouquets for the ladies.

"Ah! good!" said Madame de Hautmont; "this is more agreeable."

"And it doesn't smell of cheese," said Monsieur Berlingue.

"Why! why, there is a paper in my bouquet," said Madame Gerard.

"A paper, madame!" said Monsieur Gerard, approaching his wife as near as his paunch permitted.

"I have one too," said Eudoxie.

"And I--and I too," said each lady.

Cornelie opened the paper which was in her bouquet and read:

"'Vos attraits charment les curs, Vous avez grace et jeunesse; La plus douce des faveurs Est de vous aimer sans cesse.'"[9]

"That is extremely pretty!" said Monsieur de la Pincerie, expectorating upon the villagers in the courtyard.

"And it is perfectly suited to the person to whom it is addressed," said Alfred to Mademoiselle Cornelie, who looked at him in a way to force him to say something.

"It sounds to me like the mottoes in bonbons," said Monsieur Berlingue.

"I have a poem, too," said Eudoxie; "let me see--Why, it's just like my sister's; here, look, monsieur."

Edouard looked at the lines which she handed him and said:

"It must be that he thought, madame, that the same attractions would be found in all the members of the same family."

"Ah! what you say is very gallant; but it seems to me that my face is of an entirely different type from my sister's."

"Let's see my poem," said Madame Gerard; "I am very curious to know what he has to say to me: