That annoyed me.
For my part, I like handsome liveries.
I dote on nothing so much as on white leather knee-breeches tightly fitting nervous thighs.
And how lacking in elegance he was, this Louis, without driving-gloves, with a full suit of grayish-blue drugget that was too big for him, and a flat cap of glazed leather, ornamented with a double row of gold lace.
No, indeed, they are slow in this region.
And, with all, a scowling, brutal air, but not a bad fellow at bottom.
I know these types.
At first they assume a knowing air with the new people, and later a more friendly footing is arrived at.
Often more friendly than one would like.
We sat a long time without saying a word.
He assumed the manners of a grand coachman, holding the reins high and swinging his whip with rounded gestures.
Oh! how ridiculous he was!
For my part, with much dignity I surveyed the landscape, which had no special feature; simply fields, trees, and houses, just as everywhere else.
He brought his horse down to a walk in order to ascend a hill, and then, suddenly, with a quizzing smile, he asked:
"I suppose that at least you have brought a good supply of shoes?"
"Undoubtedly," said I, astonished at this question, which rhymed with nothing, and still more at the singular tone in which he put it to me.
"Why do you ask me that?
It is a rather stupid question, don't you know, my old man?"
He nudged me slightly with his elbow, and, gliding over me a strange look whose two-fold expression of keen irony and, indeed, of jovial obscenity was unintelligible to me, he said, with a chuckle:
"Oh! yes, pretend that you know nothing. You are a good one, you are,—a jolly good one!"
Then he clacked his tongue, and the horse resumed its rapid gait.
I was puzzled.
What could be the meaning of this?
Perhaps nothing at all. I concluded that the good man was a little silly, that he did not know how to talk with women, and that he had been able to think of no other way to start a conversation which, however, I did not see fit to continue.
M. Rabour's estate was sufficiently large and beautiful.
A pretty house, painted light green, and surrounded by broad lawns adorned with flowers and by a pine forest which gave forth an odor of turpentine.
I adore the country, but, oddly enough, it makes me sad and sleepy.
I was utterly stupid when I entered the vestibule where the governess was awaiting me,—she who had engaged me at the Paris employment-bureau, God knows after how many indiscreet questions as to my private habits and tastes, which ought to have made me distrustful.
But in vain does one see and endure things stronger and stronger; they never teach you anything.
The governess had not pleased me at the employment-bureau; here she instantly disgusted me. She seemed to me to have the air of an old procuress.
She was a fat woman, and short, with puffed-up yellowish flesh, hair brushed flat and turning gray, huge and rolling breasts, and soft, damp hands as transparent as gelatine.
Her grey eyes indicated wickedness, a cold, calculating, vicious wickedness.
The tranquil and cruel way in which she looked at you, searching soul and flesh, was almost enough to make you blush.
She escorted me into a little reception-room, and at once left me, saying that she was going to notify Monsieur, that Monsieur wished to see me before I should begin my service.
"For Monsieur has not seen you," she added.
"I have taken you, it is true, but then it is necessary that you please Monsieur."
I inspected the room.
It was extremely clean and orderly.
The brasses, the furniture, the floor, the doors, thoroughly polished, waxed, varnished, shone like mirrors.
No clap-trap, no heavy hangings, no embroidered stuffs, such as are seen in certain Paris houses; but serious comfort, an air of rich decency, of substantial country life, regular and calm.
But my! how tiresome it must be to live here!
Monsieur entered.
Oh! the queer man, and how he amused me!
Fancy a little old man, looking as if he had just stepped out of a band-box, freshly shaven, and as pink as a doll.
Very erect, very sprightly, very inviting, in fact, he hopped about, in walking, like a little grasshopper in the fields.
He saluted me, and then asked, with infinite politeness:
"What is your name, my child?"
"Celestine, Monsieur."
"Celestine!" he exclaimed.
"Celestine?