Madame Célival was awaiting Chérubin; her dress was simple, but well adapted to display her good points to advantage: her lovely black hair fell in long curls on each side of her face, and the amaranthine bows that adorned the dainty little cap she wore gave even more animation to her eyes, which were full of fire.
The fascinating widow gave Chérubin such a pleasant welcome that any other than he would at once have felt at his ease. He did what he could to overcome his embarrassment, and the most judicious thing that he did was to stand in rapt contemplation of the charms of his hostess.
“Well, Monsieur Chérubin,” said Madame Célival, after a moment, “what do you think of my boudoir? not so pretty as the countess’s, I suppose?”
“Why, yes, madame, yes, I assure you, I like yours quite as well--in fact, I think it even prettier.”
“A bright light makes my eyes ache; I detest it.”
“But, madame, you should not dread being seen; when one is so lovely----”
Chérubin dared not go on; he was tremendously surprised that he had said so much; but Madame Célival, to whom the compliment seemed quite natural, replied with a smile:
“Really! do you think me lovely? Oh! but it costs you men so little to say things that you don’t mean!”
And, as she spoke, Madame Célival leaned carelessly on the cushion of the violet velvet couch on which she was half-reclining, and her bosom rose and fell rapidly as she gazed at Chérubin, who was sitting on a chair by her side; he lowered his eyes, dared not look at her, and held his peace.
After a long pause, Madame Célival, finding that Chérubin did not speak, exclaimed:
“But I am forgetting our breakfast! Perhaps you are hungry?”
“Why yes, madame, I am very hungry,” Chérubin at once replied.
“And it seems that your appetite deprives you of the power of speech,” said Madame Célival with a smile. “Mon Dieu! why didn’t you remind me? I don’t want to see you fall dead from starvation. Please ring that bell.”
Chérubin pulled a cord and a maid appeared.
“Serve breakfast,” said Madame Célival.--”We will breakfast here,” she added, turning to Chérubin, “because then we shall not be disturbed by anybody; if any unwelcome visitor calls, they will say that I’m not at home. Do you think that I have done well?”