As Gilbert rapidly traced these last lines, the dinner-bell sounded.He descended in haste to the grand hall.They were already at the table.
"Tell me, if you please," said Count Kostia, addressing him gayly, "what you think of our new comrade?"Gilbert then noticed a fifth guest, whose face was not absolutely unknown to him.This newly invited individual was seated at the right of Father Alexis, who seemed to relish his society but little, and was no less a personage than Solon, the favorite of the master, one of those apes which are vulgarly called "monkeys in mourning," with black hair, but with face, hands, and feet of a reddish brown.
"You will not be vexed with me for inviting Solon to dine with us?"continued M.Leminof."The poor beast has been hypochondriacal for several days, and I am glad to procure this little distraction for him.I hope it will dissipate it.I cannot bear melancholy faces;hypochondria is the fate of fools who have no mental resources."He pronounced these last words half turning towards Stephane.The young man's face was more gloomy than ever.His eyes were swollen, and dark circles surrounded them.The indignation with which the brutal remark of his father filled him, gave him strength to recover from his dejection.He resolutely set about eating his soup, which he had not touched before, and feeling that Gilbert's eyes were fixed upon him, he raised his head quickly and darted upon him a withering glance.Gilbert thought he divined that he called him to account for his carnation, and could not help blushing,--so true is it that innocence does not suffice to secure one a clear conscience.
"Frankly, now," resumed the Count, lowering his voice, "don't you see some resemblance between the two persons who adorn the lower end of this table?""The resemblance does not strike me," answered Gilbert coldly.
"Ah! mon Dieu, I do not mean to say that they are identical in all points.I readily grant that Father Alexis uses his thumbs better;I admit, too, that he has a grain or two more of phosphorus in his brain, for you know the savants of to-day, at their own risk and peril, have discovered that the human mind is nothing but a phosphoric tinder-box.""It is these same savants," said Gilbert, "who consider genius a nervous disorder.Much good may it do them.They are not my men.""You treat science lightly; but answer my question seriously: do you not discover certain analogies between these two personages in black clothes and red faces?""My opinion," interrupted Gilbert impatiently, "is that Solon is very ugly, and that Father Alexis is very handsome.""Your answer embarrasses me," retorted the Count, "and I don't know whether I ought to thank you for the compliment you pay my priest, or be angry at the hard things you say of my monkey.One thing is certain," added he, "that my monkey and my priest,--I'm wrong,--my priest and my monkey, resemble each other in one respect: they have both a passionate appetite for truffles.You will soon see."They were just serving fowl with truffles.Solon devoured his portion in the twinkling of an eye, and as he was prone to coveting the property of others, he fixed his eyes, full of affectionate longing, on his neighbor's plate.Active, adroit, and watching his opportunity, he seized the moment when the priest was carrying his glass to his lips; to extend his paw, seize a truffle, and swallow it, was the work of but half a second.Beside himself with indignation, the holy man turned quickly and looked at the robber with flashing eyes.The monkey was but little affected by his anger, and to celebrate the happy success of his roguery, he capered and frisked in a ridiculous and frantic way, clinging with his forepaws to the back of his chair.The good father shook his head sadly, moved his plate further off, and returned to his eating, not, however, without watching the movements of the enemy from the corner of his eye.In vain he kept guard; in spite of his precautions,--a new attack, a new larceny--and fresh caperings of joy by the monkey.Father Alexis at last lost patience, and the monkey received a vigorous blow full in the muzzle, which drew from him a sharp shriek; but at the same instant the priest felt two rows of teeth bury themselves in his left cheek.He could hardly repress a cry, and gave up the game, leaving Solon to gorge himself to his beard in the spoils, while he busied himself in stanching his wound, from which the blood gushed freely.
The Count affected to be ignorant of all that passed; but there was a merry sparkle in his eyes which testified that not a detail of this tragic comedy had escaped his notice.
"You appear to distrust Solon, Father," said he, seeing that the priest pushed back his chair and kept at a distance from the baboon."You are wrong.He has very sweet manners; he is incapable of a bad action.He is only a little sad now, but in his melancholy, he observes all the rules of good breeding; which is not the case with all melancholy people," added he, throwing a look at Stephane, who, taken with a sudden access of sadness, had just leaned his elbow upon the table and made a screen of his right hand to hide his tears from his father.Gilbert felt himself near stifling, and as soon as he could, left the table.Fortunately no one followed him onto the terrace.Stephane had no more flowers to cultivate, and went to shut himself up in his high tower.On his part, Father Alexis went to dress his wound; as to M.Leminof, he was displeased with the cool and, as he thought, composed air with which Gilbert had listened to his pleasantries, and he retired to his study, promising himself to give to Monsieur his secretary, whom, nevertheless, he valued very highly, that last touch of pliancy which he needed for his perfection.Count Kostia was of an age when even the strongest mind feels the necessity of occasional relaxation, and he would have been glad to have near him a pliant, agreeable companion, and enchanted could that companion have been his secretary.
