Monsieur De Camors | Page 8

his name:
and they knew the names of his horses--most likely knew the names of
his mistresses.
So it required all their natural tact to conceal from their guest the flutter
of their nerves caused by his sacred presence; but they did succeed, and
so well that Camors was slightly piqued. If not a coxcomb, he was at
least young: he was accustomed to please: he knew the Princess de
Clam-Goritz had lately applied to him her learned definition of an
agreeable man--"He is charming, for one always feels in danger near
him!"
Consequently, it seemed a little strange to him that the simple mother
of the simple wife of simple Lescande should be able to bear his
radiance with such calmness; and this brought him out of his
premeditated reserve.
He took the trouble to be irresistible--not to Madame Lescande, to
whom he was studiously respectful--but to Madame Mursois. The
whole evening he scattered around the mother the social epigrams

intended to dazzle the daughter; Lescande meanwhile sitting with his
mouth open, delighted with the success of his old schoolfellow.
Next afternoon, Camors, returning from his ride in the Bois, by chance
passed the Avenue Maillot. Madame Lescande was embroidering on
the balcony, by chance, and returned his salute over her tapestry. He
remarked, too, that she saluted very gracefully, by a slight inclination
of the head, followed by a slight movement of her symmetrical, sloping
shoulders.
When he called upon her two or three days after--as was only his
duty--Camors reflected on a strong resolution he had made to keep very
cool, and to expatiate to Madame Lescande only on her husband's
virtues. This pious resolve had an unfortunate effect; for Madame,
whose virtue had been piqued, had also reflected; and while an
obtrusive devotion had not failed to frighten her, this course only
reassured her. So she gave up without restraint to the pleasure of
receiving in her boudoir one of the brightest stars from the heaven of
her dreams.
It was now May, and at the races of La Marche--to take place the
following Sunday--Camors was to be one of the riders. Madame
Mursois and her daughter prevailed upon Lescande to take them, while
Camors completed their happiness by admitting them to the
weighing-stand. Further, when they walked past the judge's stand,
Madame Mursois, to whom he gave his arm, had the delight of being
escorted in public by a cavalier in an orange jacket and topboots.
Lescande and his wife followed in the wake of the radiant
mother-in-law, partaking of her ecstasy.
These agreeable relations continued for several weeks, without seeming
to change their character. One day Camors would seat himself by the
lady, before the palace of the Exhibition, and initiate her into the
mysteries of all the fashionables who passed before them. Another time
he would drop into their box at the opera, deign to remain there during
an act or two, and correct their as yet incomplete views of the morals of
the ballet. But in all these interviews he held toward Madame Lescande
the language and manner of a brother: perhaps because he secretly

persisted in his delicate resolve; perhaps because he was not ignorant
that every road leads to Rome--and one as surely as another.
Madame Lescande reassured herself more and more; and feeling it
unnecessary to be on her guard, as at first, thought she might permit
herself a little levity. No woman is flattered at being loved only as a
sister.
Camors, a little disquieted by the course things were taking, made some
slight effort to divert it. But, although men in fencing wish to spare
their adversaries, sometimes they find habit too strong for them, and
lunge home in spite of themselves. Besides, he began to be really
interested in Madame Lescande--in her coquettish ways, at once artful
and simple, provoking and timid, suggestive and reticent--in short,
charming.
The same evening that M. de Camors, the elder, returned to his home
bent on suicide, his son, passing up the Avenue Maillot, was stopped
by Lescande on the threshold of his villa.
"My friend," said the latter, "as you are here you can do me a great
favor. A telegram calls me suddenly to Melun--I must go on the instant.
The ladies will be so lonely, pray stay and dine with them! I can't tell
what the deuce ails my wife. She has been weeping all day over her
tapestry; my mother-in-law has a headache. Your presence will cheer
them. So stay, I beg you."
Camors refused, hesitated, made objections, and consented. He sent
back his horse, and his friend presented him to the ladies, whom the
presence of the unexpected guest seemed to cheer a little. Lescande
stepped into his carriage and departed, after receiving from his wife an