Part 51 (2/2)
Monsieur Roquencourt's niece joined us at that moment, which fact I in no wise regretted. She took her uncle's arm and said:
”This is the time for our drive; the weather is superb. Come, uncle, you can talk of plays another time. Are you coming with us, Monsieur Dalbreuse?”
She asked me that as if we had known each other for years. I admit that I liked her manner; I have always been susceptible to anything which resembles sincerity or frankness; moreover, it mattered little to me then whether I was mistaken or not.
I went to drive with Monsieur Roquencourt and his niece. A pretty caleche was awaiting them at the door. I noticed that the male visitors, as they bowed to Caroline, gazed at me with an envious eye as I took my seat opposite her in the carriage. I could understand that a charming woman of twenty-five, who had her own carriage, was likely to make numerous conquests everywhere. Some were in love with the woman, and others with the carriage. But I, who coveted neither, took my seat with the utmost tranquillity opposite Mademoiselle Derbin, and enjoyed the drive at leisure, because I was not occupied in making eyes at my vis-a-vis.
At times, Mademoiselle Derbin raved over the landscape; then, all of a sudden, she would begin to laugh at the costume of a water-drinker who pa.s.sed us. While laughing at her remarks, I pretended to be listening attentively to her uncle, who described the effect he had produced playing Mascarille before Mole.
The drive seemed short to me. We returned to the hotel, and in the evening we met again in the salon. I amused myself watching Mademoiselle Derbin. In company she was more coquettish and therefore less agreeable than in private. As I was not paying court to her, I discreetly walked away when I saw a number of adorers coming her way. So that, as a result of that eccentricity which is not uncommon in women, Mademoiselle Derbin seemed to seek my company, and often came to my side.
”You do not dance?” she asked me toward the end of the evening.
”No, I no longer care for dancing.”
”And you do not play cards?”
”They play for very high stakes here. I have an income which is sufficient for my needs; I do not care to endanger it with men who would consider it the most natural thing in the world to rob me of it.”
”You are a wise man!”
”Oh, no!”
”And you have no love-affairs here?”
”Do you think then that one must absolutely have love-affairs when one goes to a watering-place?”
”I don't say that, but I think you are a most original person.”
”Original? no, I a.s.sure you that there are many men like me.”
She left me, after glancing at me with a singular expression. Did she desire to number me among her numerous conquests? It was possible; what she had just said to me might give me a poor idea of her virtue. An unmarried woman who considers it strange that a man has no love-affairs! And yet, I preferred to think that that was simply due to her original character.
I had been a fortnight at Mont-d'Or, and I had intended to pa.s.s only one week there. But I was enjoying myself; the company was agreeable; however, if Caroline and her uncle had not been there, I should have gone away; I was becoming accustomed to their society. There was nothing to do there but converse, so that we were together almost all day. I was not making love to Caroline, but she was very pretty; her black eyes alternated in expression between gentleness and mischief. Although one be not in love, there is always a charm attached to the presence of a pretty woman; it was probably that charm which detained me.
There was not a ball or a concert in the a.s.sembly room every day; when there was none, we remained at the hotel, and those guests who were congenial met in the salon in the evening. Some played cards, but the greater number conversed. There were some t.i.tled persons, and they were not the most agreeable; but we left them to bore one another in their corner, and we chatted with the clever artist, who always had a store of amusing anecdotes in reserve, or with the lady's man, who told us of his latest adventures. In that circle, Monsieur Roquencourt was not among those who talked least. If anyone mentioned a city, he had acted there; if anyone mentioned a famous personage, he had known an actor who had mimicked him to perfection, and he would proceed to give us a specimen.
I enjoyed listening; but I talked very little, and in what I did say, I did not mention myself. Caroline, who, for all her frivolous and coquettish air, observed very closely everything that took place in the salon, said to me one day:
”Monsieur Dalbreuse, everybody here tells us his or her own experiences; you alone have kept silent thus far. Why is it?”
”Presumably, I have none to relate, mademoiselle.”
”Or that you don't choose to relate them. However, you are your own master. For my part, I tell everything that concerns me, because hitherto I have had nothing to keep secret. I am an orphan; my father, who was an army contractor, left me twenty-five thousand francs a year.
I live with Monsieur Roquencourt, my mother's brother and my guardian; and he lets me do just as I choose, because he knows that I have been accustomed to that from my childhood. That is my whole history, and you know me as well now as if we had been brought up together.”
She thought perhaps that her confidence would provoke mine; but I replied simply:
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