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Page 42
Her figure was still very pretty, although, if the truth were
known, she had probably passed her thirtieth year; and she had a
soft little hand, with which she wrote elegant figures in her
cashbook, and now and then a little note. Madame Virginie could
converse with the young dandies who were always hanging about the
buffet, and parry their witticisms, while she kept account with
the waiters and had her eye upon every corner of the great room.
She was really pretty only from five till seven in the afternoon--
that being the time at which Alphonse invariably visited the cafe.
Then her eyes never left him; she got a fresher color, her mouth
was always trembling into a smile, and her movements became
somewhat nervous. That was the only time of the day when she was
ever known to give a random answer or to make a mistake in the
accounts; and the waiters tittered and nudged each other.
For it was generally thought that she had formerly had relations
with Alphonse, and some would even have it that she was still his
mistress.
She herself best knew how matters stood; but it was impossible to
be angry with Monsieur Alphonse. She was well aware that he cared
no more for her than for twenty others; that she had lost him--
nay, that he had never really been hers. And yet her eyes besought
a friendly look, and when he left the cafe without sending her a
confidential greeting, it seemed as though she suddenly faded, and
the waiters said to each other: "Look at madame; she is gray
tonight."
Over at the windows it was still light enough to read the papers;
a couple of young men were amusing themselves with watching the
crowds which streamed past. Seen through the great plate-glass
windows, the busy forms gliding past one another in the dense,
wet, rainy air looked like fish in an aquarium. Further back in
the cafe, and over the billiard-tables, the gas was lighted.
Alphonse was playing with a couple of friends.
He had been to the buffet and greeted Madame Virginie, and she,
who had long noticed how Alphonse was growing paler day by day,
had--half in jest, half in anxiety--reproached him with his
thoughtless life.
Alphonse answered with a poor joke and asked for absinthe.
How she hated those light ladies of the ballet and the opera who
enticed Monsieur Alphonse to revel night after night at the
gaming-table, or at interminable suppers! How ill he had been
looking these last few weeks! He had grown quite thin, and the
great gentle eyes had acquired a piercing, restless look. What
would she not give to be able to rescue him out of that life that
was dragging him down! She glanced in the opposite mirror and
thought she had beauty enough left.
Now and then the door opened and a new guest came in, stamped his
feet, and shut his wet umbrella. All bowed to Madame Virginie, and
almost all said, "What horrible weather!"
When Charles entered, he saluted shortly and took a seat in the
corner beside the fireplace.
Alphonse's eyes had indeed become restless. He looked towards the
door every time any one came in; and when Charles appeared, a
spasm passed over his face and he missed his stroke.
"Monsieur Alphonse is not in the vein to-day," said an onlooker.
Soon after a strange gentleman came in. Charles looked up from his
paper and nodded slightly; the stranger raised his eyebrows a
little and looked at Alphonse.
He dropped his cue on the floor.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, I'm not in the mood for billiards to-day,"
said he, "permit me to leave off. Waiter, bring me a bottle of
seltzer-water and a spoon--I must take my dose of Vichy salts."
"You should not take so much Vichy salts, Monsieur Alphonse, but
rather keep to a sensible diet," said the doctor, who sat a little
way off playing chess.
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