CHAPTER XII

THE HONEYMOON

It had been decided that we should pass the first week of our honeymoon at Madame de C.’s chateau.  A little suite of apartments had been fitted up for us, upholstered in blue chintz, delightfully cool-looking.  The term “cool-looking” may pass here for a kind of bad joke, for in reality it was somewhat damp in this little paradise, owing to the freshly repaired walls.

A room had been specially reserved for me, and it was thither that, after heartily kissing my dear mother-in-law, I flew up the stairs four at a time.  On an armchair, drawn in front of the fire, was spread out my maroon velvet dressing-gown and close beside it were my slippers.  I could not resist, and I frantically pulled off my boots.  Be that as it may, my heart was full of love, and a thousand thoughts were whirling through my head in frightful confusion.  I made an effort, and reflected for a moment on my position: 

“Captain,” said I to myself, “the approaching moment is a solemn one.  On the manner in which you cross the threshold of married life depends your future happiness.  It is not a small matter to lay the first stone of an edifice.  A husband’s first kiss”—­I felt a thrill run down my back—­“a husband’s first kiss is like the fundamental axiom that serves as a basis for a whole volume.  Be prudent, Captain.  She is there beyond that wall, the fair young bride, who is awaiting you; her ear on the alert, her neck outstretched, she is listening to each of your movements.  At every creak of the boards she shivers, dear little soul.”

As I said this, I took off my coat and my cravat.  “Your line of conduct lies before you ready traced out,” I added; “be impassioned with due restraint, calm with some warmth, good, kind, tender; but at the same time let her have a glimpse of the vivacities of an ardent affection and the attractive aspect of a robust temperament.”  Suddenly I put my coat on again.  I felt ashamed to enter my wife’s room in a dressing-gown and night attire.  Was it not equal to saying to her:  “My dear, I am at home; see how I make myself so”?  It was making a show of rights which I did not yet possess, so I rearranged my dress, and after the thousand details of a careful toilette I approached the door and gave three discreet little taps.  Oh!  I can assure you that I was all in a tremble, and my heart was beating so violently that I pressed my hand to my chest to restrain its throbs.

She answered nothing, and after a moment of anguish I decided to knock again.  I felt tempted to say in an earnest voice, “It is I, dear; may I come in?” But I also felt that it was necessary that this phrase should be delivered in the most perfect fashion, and I was afraid of marring its effect; I remained, therefore, with a smile upon my lips as if she had been able to see me, and I twirled my moustache, which, without affectation, I had slightly perfumed.