"Id runs ein leedle; but id is gut."

"What's that, baron? your life runs a little?"

"I did not untershtand; I said id of mein bibe."

"Oh, indeed!--It's a pity that we have bad days, that melancholy thoughts sometimes take possession of us!"

"Melancholy thoughts come only as a result of disappointments of the heart."

"True, you are right, Rochebrune; that is why your thoughts are so sad to-night, isn't it? The handsome Mondival distanced you; he had the pole to-night. Ha! ha! what a way to talk about love! What will you think of me? that I am a very _mauvais sujet_, eh?"

"We should be too fortunate if that were so!"

"Ach, ja! as mein frent Rochebrune say--if id vas so---- _Sapremann_, id is running again!"

"Pray take another pipe, baron; there are enough to choose from."

A thought that had come to my mind several times during supper still absorbed me. I do not know whether Frederique could read it in my eyes, but, after looking at me a moment, she said:

"What are you thinking about? Come, tell me! It has come to your lips several times, and you keep it back. Is it something very unkind, pray, that you are afraid to say it?"

"No; it's a very natural reflection, but one that I have no right to make, perhaps."

"But you seem to have taken the liberty to make it. I don't like the things one keeps back; they are more dangerous."

"Your gut healt', montame, and te bleazure id gif me to schmoke tis bibe in your company."

"Thanks, baron, thanks!"

"Vill you trink mit me?"

"Certainly I will."

While she honored Brunzbrack's toast, Frederique kept her eyes on me, and they peremptorily bade me to speak.

"Well, madame," I began, hesitatingly.

"Why do you continue to call me _madame_? I call you Rochebrune."

"But, if not that, what may I presume to call you?"

"I have told you to look upon me as your friend, your comrade. If I were a man, you would call me Frederique, as I call you Rochebrune; so, call me Frederique."

"I shall never dare!"

"Why not, when I give you leave?"

"Because you don't seem to me in the least like a man."

She smiled queerly, pa.s.sed her hand over her head, took off her little cap and tossed it on the floor, ran her fingers through her curls, rumpled up the _bandeau_, and made curls of that, saying, as she thus rearranged her coiffure:

"Does Monsieur Charles Rochebrune refuse to tell me what he has had on the tip of his tongue several times?"

"I beg your pardon, madame--I was thinking--I was surprised--not to find--another person here."

Frederique curled her lip and frowned slightly.

"Do you refer to Monsieur Saint-Bergame?" she said.

"Yes."

"It is true that--three days ago--I should not have taken supper without him. But we have quarrelled."

"Ah! you are on bad terms now?"

"Yes."

"Not for long, I presume?"

"Perhaps so. When one has been able to pa.s.s two days without trying to see a certain person, one can pa.s.s a week; when one has pa.s.sed a week, there is no reason why one should not pa.s.s a month, and so on. He did something that--displeased me, and I told him so. Instead of apologizing, he thought it became him to make a scene, and he made a miserable failure of it. He should have come the next day--that same night, indeed--to beg my pardon; he didn't do it, and now I think it would be too late. Look you, my friend--I want to call you my friend, and you give me leave, do you not, monsieur?--I believe that I can do without Saint-Bergame much better than I thought."

As she spoke, she offered me her hand so prettily that I was tempted to throw my arms about her and kiss her. But I confined myself to taking her hand and putting it to my lips; whereupon she hastily withdrew it, crying:

"Well, well! what in heaven's name is he doing? Are men in the habit of kissing their male friends' hands? that is a new idea, on my word!"

XX

BETWEEN THE PIPE AND THE CHAMPAGNE

The baron, who was beginning to be drowsy with the combined effects of the wine and tobacco, and whose eyes were not nearly so wide open as at the beginning of the supper, saw me, none the less, when I kissed Madame Dauberny's hand. He immediately s.n.a.t.c.hed his pipe from his mouth and glared at me, crying:

"Mein gut frent, is id drue tat you pe not ein leedle pit in loafe mit montame? not ein leedle pit, I say?"

"What has stirred you up now, baron?" laughed Frederique; "are you going to begin again?"

"Nein, but for vat do mein gut frent Rocheverte, he kiss your hand? I haf seen him kiss your hand."

"I did it without concealment, baron, and I ask nothing better than to do it again."

"So! in tat case, so vill ich do id again; but I haf not yet done id at all."

"Fill your pipe, baron, and let my hand alone. We were saying that Armantine's concert this evening was a bit _mouche_, to use a slang term--eh, monsieur?"

"Yes, madame."