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Updated: May 1, 2025
She did not think out what she should say to him, nor what he would answer, nor what sort of an understanding could be established between them, but happy at being relieved of this care without having had to make a decision, she resumed her dreams of the handsome Saval, and turning toward that misty light which hovers over Paris, she threw kisses with both hands toward the great city, rapid kisses which she tossed into the darkness, one after the other, without counting; and, very low, as if she were talking to Saval still, she murmured: "I love you, I love you!"
They sat around him to listen to him; they greeted him with words of applause, and called him Scheherazade. Romantin did not return. Other guests arrived. M. Saval was presented to them so that he might begin his story over again. He declined; they forced him to relate it. They seated and tied him on one of three chairs between two women who kept constantly filling his glass.
"Oh, then the other one is among the strawberries, by the well." And she began to sob so piteously that no one could hear her unmoved. The girl Rosalie Prudent was acquitted. Monsieur Saval, who was called in Mantes "Father Saval," had just risen from bed. He was weeping. It was a dull autumn day; the leaves were falling. They fell slowly in the rain, like a heavier and slower rain.
M. Saval had not even moved; he did not understand. The artist came over to him. "Since I have invited you, you will assist ma about something." The notary said emphatically: "Make any use of me you please. I am at your disposal." Romantin took off his jacket. "Well, citizen, to work! We are first going to clean up."
"You will bring up my dinner at once, and then carry to my new studio, 15 Boulevard de Clichy, thirty bottles of beer, and the ham I ordered this morning. We are going to have a housewarming." M. Saval immediately ordered dinner. Then, he took off his overcoat, so that his dress suit and his white tie could be seen. His neighbor did not seem to notice him.
Ripe and pretty, with a feline charm, you can see that she is vicious to the marrow. Everybody has a good time at her house, with cards, dancing, and suppers; in fact there is everything which goes to make up the pleasures of fashionable society life." "Have you ever been or are you now her lover?" Leon Saval asked. "I have not been her lover, I am not now, and I never shall be.
Then she joined her mother, who was proceeding with short steps, her head down, with that manner assumed in talking very low, while walking, of very intimate and very sweet things. As she advanced she drew shapes in the sand, letters perhaps, with the point of her sunshade, and she spoke, without looking at Saval, long, softly, leaning on his arm, pressed against him.
I feel myself in contact with an abnormal being, beyond the pale of natural laws, an exquisite or detestable creature I don't know which." For the third time Saval said: "I tell you that you are in love. You speak of her with the magniloquence of a poet and the feeling of a troubadour. Come, search your heart, and confess." Servigny walked a few steps without answering.
Then the Marquise turned her big, black eyes upon Saval: "And you will, of course, come, Baron?" With a smile that forbade doubt, he bent toward her, saying, "I shall be only too charmed, Madame." Then Yvette murmured with malice that was either naive or traitorous: "We will set all the world by the ears down there, won't we, Muscade, and make my regiment of admirers fairly mad."
Saval, getting quite distracted, exclaimed: "But, messieurs, I am a notary!" There was a moment's silence and then a wild outburst of laughter. One suspicious gentleman asked: "How came you to be here?" He explained, telling about his project of going to the opera, his departure from Vernon, his arrival in Paris, and the way in which he had spent the evening.
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