"Because you don't choose to be gratified.--By the way, as we are to stay here," continued Auguste, "we will take rooms at this inn.

Bertrand, see that rooms are prepared for us."

"Yes, monsieur;--and for madame, too?"

"That goes without saying.--By the way, as we are under the necessity of economizing, one room will be enough for madame and myself. Isn't that so, my dear love?"

"Mon Dieu! yes, if that will gratify you."

"By the way, my dear love, you haven't yet told me your name."

"My name is Adele--or Madame Florimont, as you please."

"Rather as you please."

"Call me Adele--I shall like that."

"Adele it is."

"Madame Florimont!" muttered Bertrand with a shrug; "that's a stage name--she got that in the wings of some theatre."

"My name is Auguste, my dear Adele; for it is right that you should know who I am."

"Oh! mon Dieu! it's all one to me!"

"I see that you think more of the person than of the t.i.tle, and that you judge people by their faces; if that method never deceives you, I congratulate you. But it is still light and the weather is fine; the best thing for us to do before supper, I think, is to take a walk. Will you come with us, Bertrand?"

"No, lieutenant, I have no desire to walk."

Auguste walked away with the emotional Adele. They traversed the pretty little town of Avallon in every direction. Auguste commented upon what he saw and the young woman invariably agreed with him; so that he finally decided that a woman who can only a.s.sent to everything that is said without making any observations on her own account, is rather monotonous company. But Madame Florimont had very pretty eyes, and it was not long since she had first fixed them upon Auguste; so that, when he had discoursed for some time without obtaining anything but insignificant replies, he played with Adele with his eyes, whereupon she said in pantomime the sweetest things imaginable.

Only in front of the shops did the young woman make any remarks of her own motion. She stopped to gaze at a shawl and heaved a profound sigh.

"Would you like it?" Auguste asked.

"Oh! it would give me great pleasure."

"Very well, let's buy it."

Giving way to his former habit, the young man bought the shawl for Madame Florimont, who at once threw it over her shoulders, having rolled up the little neckerchief which she wore about her neck, and placed it under her arm. A little farther on she stopped and sighed again as she eyed a pretty cap. At Auguste's instance she tried it on; and as it was wonderfully becoming under the great hood, the cap was purchased. Next, it was in front of a jeweller's establishment that the young woman stopped and sighed: she wanted a little ring which would remind her of the day she met Auguste! He considered that desire too flattering not to be satisfied. But after that he took his companion back to the inn, not allowing her to stop anywhere, lest she should sigh again.

The young woman was very pretty in the shawl and cap. But when Bertrand saw her in that guise, he took Auguste aside once more and said:

"Monsieur, she wasn't dressed like that this afternoon."

"You will certainly agree, Bertrand, that she looks much better to-night?"

"But, monsieur, what are you thinking about?"

"I am thinking about supper, for I am very hungry;--and you, my dear friend?"

"I too shall be glad to have supper."

Bertrand said nothing more; but he went into a corner and beat his head against the wall. In due time the supper was brought; Auguste went to the table with Adele, and urged Bertrand to sit with them, explaining to the young woman that he was his factotum, his cashier, and not his servant.

Bertrand made a wry face at the word cashier; but he decided at last to seat himself respectfully at the other end of the table. To put him in good humor, Auguste ordered several bottles of good wine. The ruse was successful. By dint of drinking, Bertrand recovered his spirits and no longer looked askance at the young woman.

But when, after supper, he saw Auguste retire with Madame Florimont to a room in which there was only one bed, he muttered:

"You will certainly be taken for the lady's husband, monsieur."

"Faith, Bertrand, it will look very much like it to-night."

"But afterward?"

"Oh! the most important thing to my mind at this moment, my friend, is to get to bed. Do the same. Good-night; to-morrow it will be light."

"Yes," said Bertrand, filling his gla.s.s once more, "to-morrow it will be light, and we shall still have this hussy on our hands! It would have been just as well to stay in Paris and let me make breeches with Schtrack."

And Bertrand fell asleep finishing the bottle.

XXII

BERTRAND'S STRATAGEM

A night's sleep suffices to banish the fumes of wine and to restore calmness to our minds; a night of love often suffices to banish many illusions and to restore calmness to our senses. After the night at the inn with Madame Florimont, both Auguste and Bertrand reflected more coolly concerning their position: the latter had not for a moment failed to realize the fresh embarra.s.sment in which Auguste had involved himself; and Auguste, who perhaps was already weary of playing pantomime with his young fellow-traveller, felt that he had made a fool of himself. But how was he to rid himself courteously of a lady who constantly said to him:

"I will go wherever you please, my friend."

After breakfast, Auguste asked if they could obtain a conveyance to take them to Lyon. To travel by post would be too expensive for people who wished to be economical, although no one would ever have suspected Auguste of such a wish, as he always insisted upon being entertained _en grand seigneur_.

A leather dealer, who owned a large two-seated cabriolet, offered to take the travellers with him. To be sure, he would take four days for the trip, because his business compelled him to stop at several places; but they were in no hurry, so they made a bargain with the leather dealer, who packed our three travellers in his vehicle.

Auguste and the emotional Adele took their places on the back seat, Bertrand beside the tradesman on the front seat, and they started, drawn by a single horse, large enough for two, but with no apparent disposition to take the bit in his teeth.

Bertrand chatted with the driver, a tall fellow of twenty-eight or thirty years, who pa.s.sed a large part of his life on his wagon, was better acquainted with taverns than with his own house, where he spent less than three months of the year, and declared that not a maid servant within a radius of thirty leagues had been unkind to him.

Auguste looked at the landscape and tried to make Madame Florimont talk.

"What do you think of this view?"

"Why, it's very ugly."

"What? That wooded slope, the valley on the left, with the stream flowing through it, and yonder pretty village in the background--you call that ugly?"