Arthur Sherburne Hardy

“ M. Joly chose a table near the window and began to study the menu. Always at the Fountain of Health he ordered the dinner which inaugurated their married life—a pâté d'ltalie, sole au vin blanc, capon with water-cress, an omelette au confiture, and a bottle of Burgundy, followed by biscuit, cream-cheese, and green chartreuse, which latter Madame Joly had learned to sip with more confidence than she had exhibited on that evening when for the first time in her life she discovered the immense difference between vin ordinaire and Romanée. ”

“ A woman loves the sacrifice, even of honor, for her sake."
"She forgives it, but she does not love it. Besides, you are incapable—"
"Let that pass," interrupted M. Joly quickly. "The question is: Why are you here? Have you asked yourself that?"
Madame Joly smiled again.
"Undoubtedly. But you could not imagine. Well, I am going to tell you. There are two men at the table behind you—do not move—you will wake Dorante—look in the glass above my head—the one with the monocle and the white hands. Those hands are clever ones. ”

“ She had even suggested to M. Joly the project of adopting what nature had not supplied. He also adored children, but the question which nature decides so arbitrarily had thus far proved an obstacle, the relative advantages of the sexes being still under discussion. Nevertheless, the project had not been abandoned, and in that suburban retreat of Monrepos which they had planned for their old age, and of which they dreamed at night before falling asleep, playing in the imaginary paths between the imaginary flowerbeds was an imaginary child of undetermined sex. ”

“ The glimpse of a white dress in a carriage on its way to the Mairie always caused her to stop, and she followed its occupant in thought far beyond the point where the carriage passed from sight. But the little girl with the brown hair, who, released from her duties at the spit, was gazing wistfully at the basket of fruit on the table, interested her still more. Having no children, she had accumulated a store of affection which overflowed at the slightest provocation. ”

“ It not being clear what difference was referred to, the man was silent.
"More probably, then," pursued M. Joly reflectively, "it was a whim of the mother."
"There is no mother," was the curt reply.
"So much the better," said M. Joly.
This time the man thought he understood. "You are right, monsieur," he said, turning away. "One mouth to feed is enough."
Madame Joly had lifted Dorante to her lap. Her husband's remark astonished her. To be an orphan, when there existed people who were childless, was a provision of Providence which tormented her.
"Poor little one!" ”

“ One was his professional manner, in which he now addressed her, and which she loved because it differentiated so completely the outside world from their own; the other recalled the Fountain of Health, and had not changed in tenderness or deference since his coat embraced her cloak on the hook behind the door of the cabinet particulier.
"What you say is most interesting," she replied, looking out into the square through the muslin curtain.
"Few people think of the past amid whose memorials they live," pursued M. Joly. ”

“ A nod for answer.
"They do not grow on the trees of Paris," he added encouragingly.
The child shook her head. Then, gaining confidence, "They grow in Cormontreuil."
"Ah, you are from Cormontreuil. I suppose, then, since peaches grow in Cormontreuil, you love Cormontreuil better than Paris?"
Another nod of assent, and after another silence, "In Paris there are no orchards."
"But," remonstrated M. Joly, "Paris is so gay, with people and lights." ”

“ I am coming."
"Monsieur Bibeault," said M. Joly, scanning the bill, "I see that you are a man of heart."
The man looked at him inquiringly.
"Since you provide for those in need," explained M. Joly, designating the sleeping Dorante.
"Dame! Monsieur," with a shrug of the shoulders, "one does what one must."
"Fortunately, you have here a good business.
"By no means, monsieur. I have on my hands a bad affair. The situation is impossible. No one frequents this square but nursery-maids and babies." ”

“ Madame Joly was well aware of her husband's passion for history, but never before on the 15th of November had he conversed upon so remote a past. The description of the masquerade which nearly proved fatal to Charles VI interested her but moderately. To the account of the tournament held in honor of the marriage of Elizabeth with Philip II of Spain she listened more attentively, for a marriage always excited her sympathies. ”

“ A child is not fed and clothed for nothing—"
"At what do you estimate these expenses?" said M. Joly, taking out his pocketbook and pencil.
Madame Bibeault exchanged with her husband another look, which said, "Here is a goose to be plucked."
Profiting by this look, M. Joly tapped twice gently on the window.
"Let us see," he continued. "To-day is the fifteenth of November. Sixteen—seventeen—eighteen—nineteen twenty—twenty-one—two—on the twenty-second of November—" To her amazement Madame Joly saw her husband count out one by one ten notes of one hundred francs. ”