France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- Psychology -- Fiction
“I could enjoy a cake,” murmured Mademoiselle Aurelie, as she sat down.
At the table, which was now deserted, but covered with all the litter
of the huge feast, a few ladies—some dozen or so, who had preferred to
wait till the children had retired—now sat down. As no servant could be
found, Malignon bustled hither and thither in attendance. He poured out
all that remained in the chocolate pot, shook up the dregs of the
bottles, and was even successful in discovering some ices. But amidst
all these gallant doings of his, he could not quit one idea, and that
was—why had they decided on closing the shutters?
“You know,” he asserted, “the place looks like a cellar.”
Hélène had remained standing, engaged in conversation with Madame
Deberle. As the latter directed her steps towards the drawing-room, her
companion prepared to follow, when she felt a gentle touch. Behind her
was the doctor, smiling; he was ever near her.
“Are you not going to take anything?” he asked. And the trivial
question cloaked so earnest an entreaty that her heart was filled with
profound emotion. She knew well enough that each of his words was
eloquent of another thing. The excitement springing from the gaiety
which pulsed around her was slowly gaining on her. Some of the fever of
all these little folks, now dancing and shouting, coursed in her own
veins. With flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, she at first declined.
“No, thank you, nothing at all.”
But he pressed her, and in the end, ill at ease and anxious to get rid
of him, she yielded. “Well, then, a cup of tea.”
He hurried off and returned with the cup, his hands trembling as he
handed it to her. While she was sipping the tea he drew nearer to her,
his lips quivering nervously with the confession springing from his
heart. She in her turn drew back from him, and, returning him the empty
cup, made her escape while he was placing it on a sideboard, thus
leaving him alone in the dining-room with Mademoiselle Aurelie, who was
slowly masticating, and subjecting each dish in succession to a close
scrutiny.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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