The Man With The Broken Ear | Page 3

hardly knew at all. And more
than one mother saluted her, too, without knowing her; for there is no
mother indifferent to such kinds of happiness, and, moreover, Leon's
family was liked by everybody. And the neighbors, meeting each other,
said with a satisfaction free from jealousy:
"That is Renault's son, who has been at work three years in the Russian
mines, and now has come to share his fortune with his old parents."
Leon also noticed several familiar faces, but not all that he wished to
see. For he bent over an instant to his mother's ear, saying: "And
Clementine?" This word was pronounced so low and so close that M.
Renault himself could not tell whether it was a word or a kiss. The
good lady smiled tenderly, and answered but a single word: "Patience!"
As if patience were a virtue very common among lovers!
The door of the house was wide open, and old Gothon was standing on
the threshold. She raised her arms toward heaven and cried like a booby,
for she had known Leon since he was not much higher than her
wash-tub. There was now another formidable hugging on the upper step,
between the good old servant and her young master. After a reasonable
interval, the friends of M. Renault prepared to leave, but it was wasted
pains; for they were assured that their places at table had already been
prepared. And when all save the invisible Clementine were
reassembled in the parlor, the great round-backed chairs held out their
arms to the scion of the house of Renault; the old mirror on the mantle
delighted to reflect his image; the great chandelier chimed a little song
of welcome with its crystal pendants, and the mandarins on the etagére
shook their heads in sign of welcome, as if they were orthodox penates

instead of strangers and pagans. No one can tell why kisses and tears
began to rain down again, but it certainly did seem as if he had once
more just returned.
"Soup!" cried Gothon.
Madame Renault took the arm of her son, contrary to all the laws of
etiquette, and without even apologizing to the honored guests present.
She scarcely excused herself, even, for helping the son before the
company. Leon let her have her own way, and took it all smilingly:
there was not a guest there who was not ready to upset his soup over
his waistcoat rather than taste it before Leon.
"Mother!" cried Leon, spoon in hand, "this is the first time for three
years that I've tasted good soup." Madame Renault felt herself blush
with satisfaction, and Gothon was so overcome that she dropped a plate.
Both fancied that possibly he had spoken to please their self-conceit;
but nevertheless he spoke truly. There are two things in this world
which a man does not often find away from home: the first is good
soup; the second is disinterested love.
If I should attempt here an accurate enumeration of all the dishes that
appeared on the table, there would not be one of my readers whose
mouth would not water. I believe, indeed, that more than one delicate
lady would be in danger of an attack of indigestion. Suppose, if you
please, that such a list would reach nearly to the end of the volume,
leaving me but a single page on which to write the marvellous history
of Fougas. Therefore I forthwith return to the parlor, where coffee is
already served.
Leon took scarcely half of his cup: but do not let that lead you to infer
that the coffee was too hot, or too cold, or too sweet. Nothing in the
world would have prevented his drinking it to the last drop, if a knock
at the street-door had not stopped it just opposite his heart.
The minute which followed appeared to him interminable. Never in his
travels had he encountered such a long minute. But at length
Clementine appeared, preceded by the worthy Mlle. Virginie Sambucco,

her aunt; and the mandarins who smiled on the etagére heard the sound
of three kisses. Wherefore three? The superficial reader, who pretends
to foresee things before they are written, has already found a very
probable explanation. "Of course," says he, "Leon was too respectful to
embrace the dignified Mlle. Sambucco more than once, but when he
came to Clementine, who was soon to become his wife, he very
properly doubled the dose." Now sir, that is what I call a premature
judgment! The first kiss fell from the mouth of Leon upon the cheek of
Mlle. Sambucco; the second was applied by the lips of Mlle. Sambucco
to the right cheek of Leon; the third was, in fact, an accident that
plunged two young hearts into profound consternation.
Leon, who