“It is a great pleasure to me, madame, and I--I--really I cannot promise to read poetry very well. I am not much used to it.”
The countess smiled and motioned him to a seat beside her. Chérubin was exceedingly perturbed in spirit as he entered the delicious little recess and seated himself on the couch, which was not very broad, so that he was necessarily very close to the other person upon it.
There was a moment’s silence. Emma, flattered by Chérubin’s evident emotion and embarrassment in her presence, decided to begin the conversation, which she was not accustomed to do.
“Exceedingly pretty, madame; but it seems to me to be a little dark for reading poetry.”
The little lady arched her eyebrows slightly and rejoined:
“Do you like Madame Célival’s boudoir better?”
“Madame Célival’s boudoir? Why, I have never been in it, madame; I don’t know what it is like.”
“You are lying!--However, I cannot blame you; discretion is the first condition one should exact in love.”
“Oh! you play the innocent to perfection; but I am not taken in by that ingenuous air. Mon Dieu! there is such a strong smell of perfumery here--a mixture of scents. Have you essence of rose about you?”
“Rose? I don’t know; it is possible. Does it affect you unpleasantly?”
“My nerves are so sensitive! but it will pass away.”
The pretty countess lay back a moment, put her handkerchief to her face, and drew a long breath.
Chérubin looked at her, and dared not stir. There was another long pause; the young man would have liked to say a multitude of things, but, as he did not know how to express himself, he inquired at last:
The pretty creature burst into laughter which seemed a little forced, and replied:
“Yes, monsieur, my husband is singing! So long as he is making music, that is all that he wants.--Mon Dieu! there’s a smell of patchouli here, too, and musk. Ah! it gives me a sort of vertigo!”
And whether as a result of the vertigo, or for some other reason, the young woman half-reclined against Chérubin, so that her face almost touched his, and he would have had to move very little nearer to kiss her; but, deeply moved to find that lovely mouth so near to him that he could almost feel her breath, he dared not move a muscle, and finally he faltered: