“And to think,” she went on, “that such will be my existence until
I make up my mind to take a husband! For I’ll have to come to it
too. The Baron Three Sixty-eight will present to me some sort of
a swell, attracted by my money. I’ll answer, ‘I’d just as soon
have him as any other,’ and he will be admitted to the honor of
paying his attentions to me. Every morning he will send me a
splendid bouquet: every evening, after bank-hours, he’ll come along
with fresh kid gloves and a white vest. During the afternoon, he
and papa will pull each other’s hair out on the subject of the dowry.
At last the happy day will arrive. Can’t you see it from here?
Mass with music, dinner, ball. The Baron Three Sixty-eight will
not spare me a single ceremony. The marriage of the manager of the
Mutual Credit must certainly be an advertisement. The papers will
publish the names of the bridesmaids and of the guests.
“To be sure, papa will have a face a yard long; because he will
have been compelled to pay the dowry the day before. Mamma will
be all upset at the idea of becoming a grandmother. The
bridegroom will be in a wretched humor, because his boots will be
too tight; and I’ll look like a goose, because I’ll be dressed
in white; and white is a stupid color, which is not at all becoming
to me. Charming family gathering, isn’t it? Two weeks later, my
husband will be sick of me, and I’ll be disgusted with him. After
a month, we’ll be at daggers’ points. He’ll go back to his club
and his mistresses; and I--I shall have conquered the right to go
out alone; and I’ll begin again going to the bois, to balls, to
races, wherever my mother goes. I’ll spend an enormous amount of
money on my dress, and I’ll make debts which papa will pay.”
Though any thing might be expected of Mlle. Cesarine, still M.
de Tregars seemed visibly astonished. And she, laughing at his
surprise,
“That’s the invariable programme,” she went on; “and that’s why I
say I’m glad at the idea of a change, whatever it may be. You find
fault with me for not pitying Mlle. Gilberte. How could I, since
I envy her? She is happy, because her future is not settled, laid
out, fixed in advance. She is poor; but she is free. She is twenty;
she is pretty; she has an admirable voice; she can go on the stage
to-morrow, and be, before six months, one of the pet actresses of
Paris. What a life then! Ah, that is the one I dream, the one I
would have selected, had I been mistress of my destiny.”
But she was interrupted by the noise of the opening door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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