after having won a great deal of money at baccarat, and already rich, thanks to love, macarée, whose corpulency nothing could conceal, came to paris, where above all, she ran after the most fashionable modistes.
how chic she was, how chic she was!
* * *
one night when she went to the théatre fran?ais a play with a moral was presented. in the first act, a young woman whom surgery had rendered sterile lamented the fatness of her husband who had the dropsy and was very jealous. the doctor went out saying:
"only a great miracle and great devotion can save your husband."
in the second act, the young woman said to the young doctor:
"i offer myself up for my husband. i want to become dropsical in his stead."
"let us love each other, madame. and if you are not unfaithful to the principle of maternity your wish will be granted. and what sweet glory i shall have thereof!"
"alas!" murmured the lady, "i no longer have any ovaries."
"love," cried the doctor at this, "love, madame, is capable of working the greatest miracles."
in the third act, the husband, thin as an i, and the lady, eight months gone, felicitated each other on the exchange they had made. the doctor communicated to the academy of medicine the results of his experiments in the fecundation of women become sterile as a result of surgical operations.
* * *
toward the end of the third act, someone shouted "fire!" in the hall. the frightened spectators rushed from the hall howling. in fleeing, macarée possessed herself of the arm of the first man she encountered. he was well dressed and fair of feature, and as macarée was charming, he seemed flattered that she had chosen him as her protector. they made each other's acquaintance at a café and from there went to sup in the montmartre. but it appeared that fran?ois des ygrées had negligently forgotten to take his purse with him. macarée gladly paid the bill. and fran?ois des ygrées pushed gallantry so far as not to allow macarée to spend the night alone, the incident at the theatre having rendered her nervous.
* * *
fran?ois, baron des ygrées (a doubtful baronetcy belonging to whoever claimed it) called himself the last offshoot of a noble house of provence and pursued a career in heraldry on the sixth floor of an apartment in the rue charles v.
"but," he said, "the revolutions and the demagogues have changed things so that arms are no longer studied except by ill-born archaeologists, and the nobility is no longer tutored in this art."
the baron des ygrées, whose coat of arms was of azur à trois pairies d'argent posés en pal, was able to inspire enough sympathy in macarée for her to want to take lessons in heraldry out of gratitude for that night at the théatre fran?ais.
macarée showed herself, it is true, little given to learning the terminology of heraldry, and one might even say that she did not interest herself seriously in anything but the arms of the pignatelli who had furnished popes for the church and whose coat-of-arms was adorned with kettles.
however, these lessons were wasted time to neither macarée nor fran?ois des ygrées, for they ended by marrying. macarée brought as her dot, her money, her beauty and her fatness. fran?ois des ygrées offered to macarée a great name and his noble bearing.
neither complained of the bargain and they found themselves very happy.
"macarée, my dear wife," said fran?ois des ygrées a few days after their marriage, "why have you ordered so many robes? it seems to me that hardly a day passes without some modiste brings new costumes. they do, true enough, honor to your taste and to their skill."
macarée hesitated for a moment and then replied:
"it is to our honeymoon that you refer, fran?ois!"
"our honeymoon, yes, i have thought of it. but where do you want to go?"
"to rome," said macarée.
"to rome, like the bells of easter?"
"i want to see the pope," said macarée.
"very fine, but what for?"
"that he may bless the child who lies under my heart," said macarée.
"phew-ew-ew!"
"it will be your son," said macarée.
"you are quite right, macarée. we shall go to rome like the bells of easter. you will order a new robe of black velvet; and the dressmaker must not neglect to embroider our arms at the bottom of the skirt: of azur à trois pairies d'argent posés en pal."
