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Updated: May 1, 2025
He had taken up a newspaper, and was reading it. M. Saval glanced sideways at him, burning with the desire to speak to him. Two young men entered, in red vests and with peaked beards, in the fashion of Henry III. They sat down opposite Romantin. The first of the pair said: "Is it for this evening?" Romantin pressed his hand. "I believe you, old chap, and everyone will be there.
M. Saval was not in good spirits. He walked from the fireplace to the window, and from the window to the fireplace. Life has its sombre days. It would no longer have any but sombre days for him, for he had reached the age of sixty-two. He is alone, an old bachelor, with nobody about him. How sad it is to die alone, all alone, without any one who is devoted to you!
And he began to roll before him a heap of grayish sweepings, as if he had done nothing else all his life. Then, he gave bark the broom to the notary, who imitated him. In five minutes, such a cloud of dust filled the studio that Rormantin asked: "Where are you? I can't see you any longer." M. Saval, who was coughing, came near to him.
But seeing all the men with their eyes fixed on Yvette in bed, he was seized with a jealous irritation, and advanced toward them. "Gentlemen," he said, "there are too many of us in this room; be kind enough to leave us alone, Monsieur Saval and me with the Marquise." He spoke in a tone which was dry and full of authority.
They found themselves in an immense apartment, the furniture of which consisted of three chairs, two easels, and a few sketches standing on the ground along the walls. M. Saval remained standing at the door somewhat astonished. The painter remarked: "Here you are! we've got to the spot; but everything has yet to be done."
Muscade, how do you do, Muscade?" she repeated. Servigny shook her hand violently, as he would a man's, and said: "Mademoiselle Yvette, my friend, Baron Saval." "Good evening, Monsieur. Are you always as tall as that?" Servigny replied in that bantering tone which he always used with her, in order to conceal his mistrust and his uncertainty: "No, Mam'zelle.
Saval, a little perplexed, inquired: "What sort of person is this lady?" His friend replied: "An upstart, a charming hussy, who came from no one knows where, who made her appearance one day, nobody knows how, among the adventuresses of Paris, knowing perfectly well how to take care of herself. Besides, what difference does it make to us?
"Monsieur Saval," Servigny replied. Then with a loud voice, the man opening the door cried out to the crowd of guests: "Monsieur the Duke de Servigny." "Monsieur the Baron Saval." The first drawing-room was filled with women. The first thing which attracted attention was the display of bare shoulders, above a flood of brilliant gowns.
When he returned with the ladder, he said to M. Saval: "Are you active?" The other, without understanding, answered: "Why, yes." "Well, you just climb up there, and fasten this chandelier for me to the ring of the ceiling. Then, you put a wax-candle in each bottle, and light it. I tell you I have a genius for lighting up. But off with your coat, damn it! You are just like a Jeames."
Every time that a new work was interpreted at a big Parisian theatre M. Saval paid a visit to the capital. Now, last year, according to his custom, he went to hear Henri VIII. He then took the express which arrives in Paris at 4:30 P.M., intending to return by the 12:35 A.M. train, so as not to have to sleep at a hotel.
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