Yvette. Guy de Maupassant

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СКАЧАТЬ Muscade will come to dinner on Saturday. We have only to ask him, for he and I intend to commit a lot of follies in the country."

      He thought he divined the birth of a promise in her smile, and in her voice he heard what he thought was invitation.

      Then the Marquise turned her big, black eyes upon Saval: "And you will, of course, come, Baron?"

      With a smile that forbade doubt, he bent toward her, saying, "I shall be only too charmed, Madame."

      Then Yvette murmured with malice that was either naive or traitorous: "We will set all the world by the ears down there, won't we, Muscade, and make my regiment of admirers fairly mad." And with a look, she pointed out a group of men who were looking at them from a little distance.

      Said Servigny to her: "As many follies as YOU may please, Mam'zelle."

      In speaking to Yvette, Servigny never used the word "Mademoiselle," by reason of his close and long intimacy with her.

      Then Saval asked: "Why does Mademoiselle always call my friend Servigny 'Muscade'?"

      Yvette assumed a very frank air and said:

      "I will tell you: It is because he always slips through my hands. Now I think I have him, and then I find I have not."

      The Marquise, with her eyes upon Saval, arid evidently preoccupied, said in a careless tone: "You children are very funny."

      But Yvette bridled up: "I do not intend to be funny; I am simply frank. Muscade pleases me, and is always deserting me, and that is what annoys me."

      Servigny bowed profoundly, saying: "I will never leave you any more, Mam'zelle, neither day nor night." She made a gesture of horror:

      "My goodness! no – what do you mean? You are all right during the day, but at night you might embarrass me."

      With an air of impertinence he asked: "And why?"

      Yvette responded calmly and audaciously, "Because you would not look well en deshabille."

      The Marquise, without appearing at all disturbed, said: "What extraordinary subjects for conversation. One would think that you were not at all ignorant of such things."

      And Servigny jokingly added: "That is also my opinion, Marquise."

      Yvette turned her eyes upon him, and in a haughty, yet wounded, tone said: "You are becoming very vulgar – just as you have been several times lately." And turning quickly she appealed to an individual standing by:

      "Chevalier, come and defend me from insult."

      A thin, brown man, with an easy carriage, came forward.

      "Who is the culprit?" said he, with a constrained smile.

      Yvette pointed out Servigny with a nod of her head:

      "There he is, but I like him better than I do you, because he is less of a bore."

      The Chevalier Valreali bowed:

      "I do what I can, Mademoiselle. I may have less ability, but not less devotion."

      A gentleman came forward, tall and stout, with gray whiskers, saying in loud tones: "Mademoiselle Yvette, I am your most devoted slave."

      Yvette cried: "Ah, Monsieur de Belvigne." Then turning toward Saval, she introduced him.

      "My last adorer – big, fat, rich, and stupid. Those are the kind I like. A veritable drum-major – but of the table d'hote. But see, you are still bigger than he. How shall I nickname you? Good! I have it. I shall call you 'M. Colossus of Rhodes, Junior,' from the Colossus who certainly was your father. But you two ought to have very interesting things to say to each other up there, above the heads of us all – so, by-bye."

      And she left them quickly, going to the orchestra to make the musicians strike up a quadrille.

      Madame Obardi seemed preoccupied. In a soft voice she said to Servigny:

      "You are always teasing her. You will warp her character and bring out many bad traits."

      Servigny replies: "Why, haven't you finished her education?"

      She appeared not to understand, and continued talking in a friendly way. But she noticed a solemn looking man, wearing a perfect constellation of crosses and orders, standing near her, and she ran to him:

      "Ah Prince, Prince, what good fortune!"

      Servigny took Saval's arm and drew him away:

      "That is the latest serious suitor, Prince Kravalow. Isn't she superb?"

      "To my mind they are both superb. The mother would suffice for me perfectly," answered Saval.

      Servigny nodded and said: "At your disposal, my dear boy."

      The dancers elbowed them aside, as they were forming for a quadrille.

      "Now let us go and see the sharpers," said Servigny. And they entered the gambling-room.

      Around each table stood a group of men, looking on. There was very little conversation. At times the clink of gold coins, tossed upon the green cloth or hastily seized, added its sound to the murmur of the players, just as if the money was putting in its word among the human voices.

      All the men were decorated with various orders, and odd ribbons, and they all wore the same severe expression, with different countenances. The especially distinguishing feature was the beard.

      The stiff American with his horseshoe, the haughty Englishman with his fan-beard open on his breast, the Spaniard with his black fleece reaching to the eyes, the Roman with that huge mustache which Italy copied from Victor Emmanuel, the Austrian with his whiskers and shaved chin, a Russian general whose lip seemed armed with two twisted lances, and a Frenchman with a dainty mustache, displayed the fancies of all the barbers in the world.

      "You won't join the game?" asked Servigny.

      "No, shall you?"

      "Not now. If you are ready to go, we will come back some quieter day. There are too many people here to-day, and we can't do anything."

      "Well, let us go."

      And they disappeared behind a door-curtain into the hall. As soon as they were in the street Servigny asked: "Well, what do you think of it?"

      "It certainly is interesting, but I fancy the women's side of it more than the men's."

      "Indeed! Those women are the best of the tribe for us. Don't you find that you breathe the odor of love among them, just as you scent the perfumes at a hairdresser's?"

      "Really such houses are the place for one to go. And what experts, my dear fellow! What artists! Have you ever eaten bakers' cakes? They look well, but they amount to nothing. The man who bakes them only knows how to make bread. Well! the love of a woman in ordinary society always reminds me of these bake-shop trifles, while the love you find at houses like the Marquise Obardi's, don't you see, is the real sweetmeat. Oh! they know how to make cakes, these charming pastry-cooks. Only you pay five sous, at their shops, for what costs two sous elsewhere."

      "Who is the master of the house just now?" asked Saval.

      Servigny СКАЧАТЬ