Sans-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little StreamsKock, Paul de
General
Sans-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams
Kock, Paul de
French fiction -- Translations into English
"I beg pardon, madame; we have mixed ices too."
"What flavors?"
"Strawberry and vanilla."
"Bring me a strawberry, then.--And you, monsieur, won't you take a
strawberry ice?"
This question was addressed to Tobie, who did his utmost to look pleased
as he replied:
"Oh, no! I never eat more than one ice, myself. I shouldn't dream of
doing it. I have noticed that if you eat more than one, they are likely
to do you a lot of harm; they give you cramps in the stomach."
"Oh! I could eat a dozen; I could eat them all day, without the least
bad effect."
"The devil!" thought Tobie; "it's lucky they haven't anything but
strawberry and vanilla."
The waiter went out and soon returned with the strawberry ice. Again he
busied himself arranging the plates and glasses and spoons, but he left
the room at last. Madame Plays attacked the strawberry ice, tasting also
the macaroons and biscuits.
"The cost is climbing up," said Tobie to himself; "this woman eats a
great deal. If I don't divert her attention by making love to her, both
dishes will soon be empty. I have heard it said that women must always
have one sense at work. Let's try to give her something else to think
about."
He drew his chair nearer to Madame Plays, looked her in the eyes, and
heaved a tremendous sigh. The fair creature, who was of a very jolly
disposition, exclaimed, with a smile:
"Mon Dieu! Monsieur Tobie, what's the matter with you? You make eyes at
me, and breathe so hard!"
"Ah! madame--I see that Albert did very wrong to send me to you."
"How so? do you repent of having conferred a favor on your friend?"
"But if that favor deprives me of my repose, my happiness, my peace of
mind!"
"Ha! ha! you are joking. How is your repose endangered, pray?"
At that moment, the showman, standing directly beneath the window of the
room occupied by Tobie and his charge, began to announce the performance
by tapping with a stick on a huge picture placed beside the entrance of
the booth. His voice was so shrill and penetrating that it was
impossible for persons in the private rooms not to hear every word he
said, even when they paid no attention; and the following dialogue
between the young man and his fair companion was necessarily interrupted
by the mountebank's periods:
TOBIE (_trying to take Madame Plays's hand_).
You ask me how my repose is endangered. Is it possible that you have not
divined! Great God!
THE SHOWMAN.
The show is about to begin, messieurs and mesdames; it is about to
begin.
MADAME PLAYS.
Let alone my hand! you are sitting very close to me.
THE SHOWMAN.
Now is the time! the time has come! the show is about to begin!
TOBIE.
Ah! I would like to be even closer. I would like----
THE SHOWMAN.
Come in! come in! buy your tickets! there won't be enough for everybody!
MADAME PLAYS.
That fellow is insufferable with his yelling!
TOBIE.
Oh! I am not listening to him. I think only of you, whom I adore. Ah! if
I could obtain a little corner in your heart!
THE SHOWMAN.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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