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CHAPTER XV.

WHAT IT IS TO BE A CAVALIERE SERVENTE.

"Everye white will have its blacke,
And everye sweet its sowere."

_Old Ballad_.

Neither the example of Oscar Dalrymple nor the broadcloth of the great
Michaud, achieved half so much for my education as did the
apprenticeship I was destined to serve to Madame de Marignan. Having
once made up her mind to civilize me, she spared no pains for the
accomplishment of that end, cost what it might to herself--or me. Before
I had been for one week her subject, she taught me how to bow; how to
pick up a pocket-handkerchief; how to present a bouquet; how to hold a
fan; how to pay a compliment; how to turn over the leaves of a
music-book--in short, how to obey and anticipate every imperious wish;
and how to fetch and carry, like a dog. My vassalage began from the very
day when I first ventured to call upon her. Her house was small, but
very elegant, and she received me in a delicious little room overlooking
the Champs Elysees--a very nest of flowers, books, and birds. Before I
had breathed the air of that fatal boudoir for one quarter of an hour, I
was as abjectly her slave as the poodle with the rose-colored collar
which lay curled upon a velvet cushion at her feet.

"I shall elect you my _cavaliere servente_," said she, after I had twice
nervously risen to take my leave within the first half hour, and twice
been desired to remain a little longer. "Will you accept the office?"

I thought it the greatest privilege under heaven. Perhaps I said so.

"The duties of the situation are onerous," added she, "and I ought not
to accept your allegiance without setting them before you. In the first
place, you will have to bring me every new novel of George Sand,
Flaubert, or About, on the day of publication."

"I will move heaven and earth to get them the day before, if that be
all!" I exclaimed.

Madame de Marignan nodded approvingly, and went on telling off my
duties, one by one, upon her pretty fingers.

"You will have to accompany me to the Opera at least twice a week, on
which occasions you will bring me a bouquet--camellias being my
favorite flowers."

"Were they the flowers that bloom but once in a century," said I, with
more enthusiasm than sense, "they should be yours!"

Madame de Marignan smiled and nodded again.

"When I drive in the Bois, you will sometimes take a seat in my
carriage, and sometimes ride beside it, like an attentiv