I ran away, to keep from laughing.
Yes, I wanted to laugh. And, nevertheless, there was an emotion singing in my heart, something—what shall I call it?—something maternal.
And, besides, it would have been amusing, because of Madame.
We shall see, later.
Monsieur did not go away all day.
He straightened his dahlias, and during the afternoon he did not leave the wood-house, where he split wood furiously for more than four hours.
From the linen-room I listened, with a sort of pride, to the blows of the axe. _____
Yesterday Monsieur and Madame spent the entire afternoon at Louviers. Monsieur had an appointment with his lawyer, Madame with her dressmaker.
Her dressmaker!
I took advantage of this moment of rest to pay a visit to Rose, whom I had not seen since that famous Sunday.
And I was not averse to making the acquaintance of Captain Mauger.
A true type of an old sea-dog, this man, and such as you seldom see, I assure you.
Fancy a carp's head, with a moustache and a long gray tuft of beard.
Very dry, very nervous, very restless, he cannot stay in one place for any length of time, and is always at work, either in his garden, or in a little room where he does carpentering, humming military airs or imitating the bugle of the regiment.
The garden is very pretty,—an old garden divided into square beds in which old-fashioned flowers are cultivated,—those very old flowers that are found now only in very old fields and in the gardens of very old priests.
When I arrived, Rose, comfortably seated in the shade of an acacia, beside a rustic table, on which lay her work-basket, was mending stockings, and the captain, squatting on the grass, and wearing an old foraging-cap on his head, was stopping the leaks in a garden-hose which had burst the night before.
They welcomed me enthusiastically, and Rose ordered the little servant, who was weeding a bed of marguerites, to go for the bottle of peach brandy and some glasses.
The first courtesies exchanged, the captain asked:
"Well, he has not yet croaked, then, your Lanlaire?
Oh! you can boast of serving in a famous den!
I really pity you, my dear young woman."
He explained to me that formerly Monsieur and he had lived as good neighbors, as inseparable friends.
A discussion apropos of Rose had brought on a deadly quarrel.
Monsieur, it seems, reproached the captain with not maintaining his dignity with his servant,—with admitting her to his table.
Interrupting his story, the captain forced my testimony:
"To my table!
Well, have I not the right?
Is it any of his business?"
"Certainly not, captain."
Rose, in a modest voice, sighed:
"A man living all alone; it is very natural isn't it?"
Since this famous discussion, which had come near ending in blows, the two old friends had passed their time in lawsuits and tricks. They hated each other savagely.
"As for me," declared the captain, "when I find any stones in my garden, I throw them over the hedge into Lanlaire's.
So much the worse if they fall on his bell-glasses and on his garden-frames! Or, rather, so much the better! Oh! the pig!
Wait now, let me show you."
Having noticed a stone in the path, he rushed to pick it up, approached the hedge cautiously, creeping like a trapper, and threw the stone into our garden with all his might.
We heard a noise of breaking glass.
Then, returning to us triumphantly, shaking, stifled, twisted with laughter, he exclaimed:
"Another square broken! The glazier will have to come again."
Rose looked at him with a sort of maternal admiration, and said:
"Is he not droll?
What a child!
And how young, for his age!"
After we had sipped a little glass of brandy, Captain Mauger desired to do me the honors of the garden.
Rose excused herself for her inability to accompany us, because of her asthma, and counselled us not to stay too long.
"Besides," said she, jokingly, "I am watching you."
The captain took me through the paths, among the beds bordered with box and filled with flowers.
He told me the names of the prettiest ones, remarking each time that there were no such to be seen in the garden of that pig of a Lanlaire.
Suddenly he plucked a little orange-colored flower, odd and charming, twirled the stem gently in his fingers, and asked me:
"Did you ever eat any of these?"