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Updated: May 1, 2025
The painter replied: "I believe you, every three months, each quarter." M. Saval could not restrain himself any longer, and in a hesitating voice said: "I beg your pardon for intruding on you, monsieur, but I heard your name mentioned, and I would be very glad to know if you really are M. Romantin, whose work in the last Salon I have so much admired?"
But Servigny, who had just said something in a low tone to Saval, replied to her: "No, it is all over. Come, go out a minute, just a minute, and I promise you that she will kiss you when you come back." And the Baron, taking Madame Obardi by the arm, led her from the room. Then Servigny, sitting-by the bed, took Yvette's hand and said: "Mam'zelle, listen to me." She did not answer.
If only she could have guessed. Had she not guessed anything, seen anything, comprehended anything? What would she have thought? If he had spoken, what would she have answered? And Saval asked himself a thousand other things. He reviewed his whole life, seeking to recall a multitude of details.
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.
You will be very sensible, very nice; you will remain quietly waiting for me in bed, and I'll come back as soon as it's over." She murmured: "Yes, but you will not begin over again?" "No, I swear to you!" He turned towards M. Saval, who had at last hooked on the chandelier: "My dear friend, I am coming back in five minutes. If anyone arrives in my absence, do the honors for me, will you not?"
But the Prince looked about him with a disturbed air. "What are you looking for?" asked the Chevalier. "Well, I would like a ladder." A general laugh followed. Saval, advancing, said: "We will help you." He lifted him in his arms, as strong as those of Hercules, telling him: "Now climb to that balcony."
The painter replied: "I believe you, every three months, each quarter." M. Saval could not restrain himself any longer, and in a hesitating voice said: "I beg your pardon for intruding on you, monsieur, but I heard your name mentioned, and I would be very glad to know if you really are M. Romantin, whose work in the last Salon I have so much admired?"
Her mother cautioned her in a languid tone: "Don't be late, above all things. We will escort you to the ferry." And they started in couples, the young girl and her admirer walking in front, on the road to the shore. They heard, behind them, the Marquise and Saval speaking very rapidly in low tones. All was dark, with a thick, inky darkness.
Yvette cried: "Ah, Monsieur de Belvigne." Then turning toward Saval, she introduced him. "My last adorer big, fat, rich, and stupid. Those are the kind I like. A veritable drum-major but of the table d'hote. But see, you are still bigger than he. How shall I nickname you? Good! I have it. I shall call you 'M. Colossus of Rhodes, Junior, from the Colossus who certainly was your father.
M. Saval felt himself blush, and he got up at a bound, as if he were thirty years younger and had heard Madame Sandres say, "I love you." Was it possible? That idea which had just entered his mind tortured him. Was it possible that he had not seen, had not guessed? Oh! if that were true, if he had let this opportunity of happiness pass without taking advantage of it!
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