Other People's Money [164]
him, at the moment of a decisive step, to collect all his energy and all his presence of mind.
And after two minutes he was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts, that he started, like a man suddenly aroused from his sleep, at the sound of an opening door. At the same moment he heard a slight exclamation of surprise, "Ah!
Instead of the Baroness de Thaller, it was her daughter, Mlle. Cesarine, who had come in.
Stepping forward to the centre of the room, and acknowledging by a familiar gesture M. de Traggers' most respectful bow,
"You should warn people," she said. "I came here to look for my mother, and it is you I find. Why, you scared me to death. What a crack! Princess dear!"
And taking the young man's hand, and pressing it to her breast,
"Feel," she added, "how my heart beats."
Younger than Mlle. Gilberte, Mlle. Cesarine de Thaller had a reputation for beauty so thoroughly established, that to call it in question would have seemed a crime to her numerous admirers. And really she was a handsome person. Rather tall and well made, she had broad hips, the waist round and supple as a steel rod, and a magnificent throat. Her neck was, perhaps, a little too thick and too short; but upon her robust shoulders was scattered in wild ringlets the rebellious hair that escaped from her comb. She was a blonde, but of that reddish blonde, almost as dark as mahogany, which Titian admired, and which the handsome Venetians obtained by means of rather repulsive practices, and by exposing themselves to the noonday sun on the terraces of their palaces. Her complexion had the gilded hues of amber. Her lips, red as blood, displayed as they opened, teeth of dazzling whiteness. In her large prominent eyes, of a milky blue, like the Northern skies, laughed the eternal irony of a soul that no longer has faith in any thing. More anxious of her fame than of good taste, she wore a dress of doubtful shade, puffed up by means of an extravagant pannier, and buttoned obliquely across the chest, according to that ridiculous and ungraceful style invented by flat or humped women.
Throwing herself upon a chair, and placing cavalierly one foot upon another, so as to display her leg, which was admirable,
"Do you know that it's perfectly stunning to see you here?" she said to M. de Traggers. "Just imagine, for a moment, what a face the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight will make when he sees you!"
It was her father whom she called thus, since the day when she had discovered that there was a German coin called thaler, which represents three francs and sixty-eight centimes in French currency.
"You know, I suppose," she went on, "that papa has just been badly stuck?"
M. de Traggers was excusing himself in vague terms; but it was one of Mlle. Cesarine's habits never to listen to the answers which were made to her questions.
"Favoral," she continued, "papa's cashier, has just started on an international picnic. Did you know him?"
"Very little."
"An old fellow, always dressed like a country sexton, and with a face like an undertaker. And the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight, an old bird, was fool enough to be taken in by him! For he was taken in. He had a face like a man whose chimney is on fire, when he came to tell us, mamma and myself, that Favoral had gone off with twelve millions."
"And has he really carried off that enormous sum?"
"Not entire, of course, because it was not since day before yesterday only that he began digging into the Mutual Credit's pile. There were years that this venerable old swell was leading a somewhat-variegated existence, in company with rather-funny ladies, you know. And as he was not exactly calculated to be adored at par, why, it cost papa's stockholders a pretty lively premium. But, anyhow, he must have carried off a handsome nugget."
And, bouncing to the piano, she began an accompaniment loud enough to crack the window-panes, singing at the same time the popular refrain of the "Young Ladies of Pautin:
Cashier, you've got the bag; Quick on your
And after two minutes he was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts, that he started, like a man suddenly aroused from his sleep, at the sound of an opening door. At the same moment he heard a slight exclamation of surprise, "Ah!
Instead of the Baroness de Thaller, it was her daughter, Mlle. Cesarine, who had come in.
Stepping forward to the centre of the room, and acknowledging by a familiar gesture M. de Traggers' most respectful bow,
"You should warn people," she said. "I came here to look for my mother, and it is you I find. Why, you scared me to death. What a crack! Princess dear!"
And taking the young man's hand, and pressing it to her breast,
"Feel," she added, "how my heart beats."
Younger than Mlle. Gilberte, Mlle. Cesarine de Thaller had a reputation for beauty so thoroughly established, that to call it in question would have seemed a crime to her numerous admirers. And really she was a handsome person. Rather tall and well made, she had broad hips, the waist round and supple as a steel rod, and a magnificent throat. Her neck was, perhaps, a little too thick and too short; but upon her robust shoulders was scattered in wild ringlets the rebellious hair that escaped from her comb. She was a blonde, but of that reddish blonde, almost as dark as mahogany, which Titian admired, and which the handsome Venetians obtained by means of rather repulsive practices, and by exposing themselves to the noonday sun on the terraces of their palaces. Her complexion had the gilded hues of amber. Her lips, red as blood, displayed as they opened, teeth of dazzling whiteness. In her large prominent eyes, of a milky blue, like the Northern skies, laughed the eternal irony of a soul that no longer has faith in any thing. More anxious of her fame than of good taste, she wore a dress of doubtful shade, puffed up by means of an extravagant pannier, and buttoned obliquely across the chest, according to that ridiculous and ungraceful style invented by flat or humped women.
Throwing herself upon a chair, and placing cavalierly one foot upon another, so as to display her leg, which was admirable,
"Do you know that it's perfectly stunning to see you here?" she said to M. de Traggers. "Just imagine, for a moment, what a face the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight will make when he sees you!"
It was her father whom she called thus, since the day when she had discovered that there was a German coin called thaler, which represents three francs and sixty-eight centimes in French currency.
"You know, I suppose," she went on, "that papa has just been badly stuck?"
M. de Traggers was excusing himself in vague terms; but it was one of Mlle. Cesarine's habits never to listen to the answers which were made to her questions.
"Favoral," she continued, "papa's cashier, has just started on an international picnic. Did you know him?"
"Very little."
"An old fellow, always dressed like a country sexton, and with a face like an undertaker. And the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight, an old bird, was fool enough to be taken in by him! For he was taken in. He had a face like a man whose chimney is on fire, when he came to tell us, mamma and myself, that Favoral had gone off with twelve millions."
"And has he really carried off that enormous sum?"
"Not entire, of course, because it was not since day before yesterday only that he began digging into the Mutual Credit's pile. There were years that this venerable old swell was leading a somewhat-variegated existence, in company with rather-funny ladies, you know. And as he was not exactly calculated to be adored at par, why, it cost papa's stockholders a pretty lively premium. But, anyhow, he must have carried off a handsome nugget."
And, bouncing to the piano, she began an accompaniment loud enough to crack the window-panes, singing at the same time the popular refrain of the "Young Ladies of Pautin:
Cashier, you've got the bag; Quick on your