Crevel, the important and burly, being invited as a matter of course
to the party given for the signing of the marriage-contract, behaved
as though the scene with which this drama opened had never taken
place, as though he had no grievance against the Baron. Celestin
Crevel was quite amiable; he was perhaps rather too much the
ex-perfumer, but as a Major he was beginning to acquire majestic
dignity. He talked of dancing at the wedding.
"Fair lady," said he politely to the Baroness, "people like us know
how to forget. Do not banish me from your home; honor me, pray, by
gracing my house with your presence now and then to meet your
children. Be quite easy; I will never say anything of what lies buried
at the bottom of my heart. I behaved, indeed, like an idiot, for I
should lose too much by cutting myself off from seeing you."
"Monsieur, an honest woman has no ears for such speeches as those you
refer to. If you keep your word, you need not doubt that it will give
me pleasure to see the end of a coolness which must always be painful
in a family."
"Well, you sulky old fellow," said Hulot, dragging Crevel out into the
garden, "you avoid me everywhere, even in my own house. Are two
admirers of the fair sex to quarrel for ever over a petticoat? Come;
this is really too plebeian!"
"I, monsieur, am not such a fine man as you are, and my small
attractions hinder me from repairing my losses so easily as you
can----"
"Sarcastic!" said the Baron.
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