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Updated: May 28, 2025
But alas for the poor spinster! Before she had been half an hour in the society of her beloved fiancé, her unfortunate habit of tossing and wriggling her head brought Céline's gingerly architecture to grief. A sudden twist tumbled down full half of the glossy "crown of glory" from Miss Arthur's head to Mr. Percy's feet, and we draw a veil over the confusion of the unhappy spinster.
My eye was quickly at the aperture. Celine's chamber-maid entered, lit a lamp, left it on the table, and withdrew.
Sometimes Miss Arthur was inclined to think that her scant locks of well-dyed hair were pulled quite unnecessarily, while her head was under Céline's hands. But this she endured like a Spartan, only exclaiming when the torture became unbearable. And when she finally ventured a protest, disastrous was the outcome.
Céline's eyes were riveted upon the coming figure, as it appeared and disappeared among the trees and shrubbery along the winding walk. At length he emerged into open space and approached nearer. Céline Leroque suppressed a cry of astonishment as she anticipated his ring and ushered him in.
I should have been knocked down but for a gentleman who caught me; he had just come down the steps from one of the clubs. I thanked him. He kindly helped me to find my companions. He came on with us almost to the door of Madame Celine's house. He talked frankly and pleasantly. Two days after I was going to the City on madame's business. He met me. He said he had watched for me. There!
Then, as if the information might bear upon the question of the toilet, "Does mademoiselle know that Monsieur Davlin left an hour ago?" "Certainly, Céline, but I expect a visitor. He may arrive at any time to-day, and you must do your very best with my toilet." "Mademoiselle est charmante; slight need of Céline's poor aid," cooed the little hypocrite, and the toilet proceeded.
The article had met with prodigious success, Celine's pretty answers respecting her imprisoned father having such an effect on ladies with sensitive hearts that they had driven to Montmartre in their carriages in order to see the two poor creatures.
It is needless to say that, long before Céline had finished her recital, her mistress was in the best of humors. Indeed, Céline's volubly uttered, intensely flattering, highly probable recital, had an exhilarating effect upon her; so much so, that the lady found sleep now quite impossible.
And my aunt Flora, who realised that this veiled utterance was Celine's way of thanking Swann intelligibly for the Asti, looked at him with a blend of congratulation and irony, either just, because she wished to underline her sister's little epigram, or because she envied Swann his having inspired it, or merely because she imagined that he was embarrassed, and could not help having a little fun at his expense.
At length, the resources of art having been exhausted, Miss Arthur stood up, and approved of Céline's handiwork. "I really do look nicely, Céline; you have done well, very. Now go send me a pot of chocolate and a bit of toast." "Yes, mademoiselle." "And a bit of chicken, or a bird's wing." "Oui." "And a French roll, Céline, with perhaps an omelette."
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