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Updated: May 1, 2025
Saval began to laugh and said: "You are in love with her." "No. I am on the list, which is not precisely the same thing. I will introduce you to my most serious rivals. But the chances are in my favor. I am in the lead, and some little distinction is shown to me." "You are in love," Saval repeated. "No. She disquiets me, seduces and disturbs me, attracts and frightens me away.
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!
But tell me, it is understood that we dine with her on Saturday at Bougival, is it not? People are more free in the country, and I shall succeed in finding out what ideas Yvette has in her head!" "I should like nothing better," replied Saval. "I have nothing to do that day."
He went to the back of the easel, on which there was a canvas representing a cat, and seized a very worn-out broom. "I say! Just brush up while I look after the lighting." M. Saval took the broom, inspected it, and then began to sweep the floor very awkwardly, raising a whirlwind of dust. Romantin, disgusted, stopped him: "Deuce take it! you don't know how to sweep the floor! Look at me!"
She gave one hand to Servigny, who kissed it, and dropping her fan on its little gold chain, she gave the other to Saval, saying to him: "You are welcome, Baron, all the Duke's friends are at home here." Then she fixed her brilliant eyes upon the Colossus who had just been introduced to her.
The notary filled the part of leader of the orchestra with so much correctness that the bandmaster of the 190th regiment of the line said of him, one day, at the Cafe de l'Europe. "Oh! M. Saval is a master. It is a great pity that he did not adopt the career of an artist."
He did not add what he would give, and Saval said good night to him as they reached the corner of the Rue Royale. Bougival and Love They had set the table on the veranda which overlooked the river. The Printemps villa, leased by the Marquise Obardi, was halfway up this hill, just at the corner of the Seine, which turned before the garden wall, flowing toward Marly.
He dressed, went out, and rejoining his friend who was smoking astride an iron chair, inquired: "What are you doing here at this hour?" "I am resting," Saval replied. And he began to laugh. Servigny pressed his hand: "My compliments, my dear fellow. And as for me, I am making a fool of myself." "You mean " "I mean that Yvette and her mother do not resemble each other." "What has happened?
"You here at this hour, Saval! Has some accident happened to you?" "No, my girl," he replied; "but go and tell your mistress that I want to speak to her at once." "The fact is madame is preserving pears for the winter, and she is in the preserving room. She is not dressed, you understand." "Yes, but go and tell her that I wish to see her on a very important matter."
The little servant went away, and Saval began to walk, with long, nervous strides, up and down the drawing-room. He did not feel in the least embarrassed, however. Oh! he was merely going to ask her something, as he would have asked her about some cooking recipe. He was sixty-two years of age! The door opened and madame appeared.
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