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diff --git a/41083-0.txt b/41083-0.txt index 923035b..2a7381f 100644 --- a/41083-0.txt +++ b/41083-0.txt @@ -1,24 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Neighbor Raymond (Novels of Paul de Kock -Volume XI), by Charles Paul de Kock - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: My Neighbor Raymond (Novels of Paul de Kock Volume XI) - -Author: Charles Paul de Kock - -Release Date: October 17, 2012 [EBook #41083] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - -[Illustration: Copyright 1903 by G. Barrie & Sons] - -RAYMOND SURPRISES DORSAN AND NICETTE - -_I was determined that he should not, at all events, have time to -scrutinize the girl; I fumbled hastily in my pocket for my key, but -it was entangled in my handkerchief._ - - - - -NOVELS - -BY - -Paul de Kock - -VOLUME XI - -MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND - -PRINTED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH - -[Illustration] - -GEORGE BARRIE'S SONS - -THE JEFFERSON PRESS - -BOSTON NEW YORK - -_Copyrighted, 1903-1904, by G. B. & Sons._ - - - - -MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND - - - - -I - -THE GRISETTE - - -I was strolling along the boulevards one Saturday evening. I was alone, -and in a meditative mood; contrary to my usual custom, I was indulging -in some rather serious reflections on the world and its people, on the -past and the present, on the mind and the body, on the soul, on thought, -chance, fate, and destiny. I believe, indeed, that I was on the point of -turning my attention to the moon, which was just appearing, and in which -I already saw mountains, lakes, and forests,--for with a little -determination one may see in the moon whatever one pleases,--when, as I -was gazing at the sky, I suddenly collided with a person going in the -opposite direction, whom I had not previously noticed. - -"Look where you're going, monsieur; you're very awkward!" at once -remarked a soft, sweet voice, which not even anger deprived of its -charm. I have always had a weakness for pleasant voices; so I instantly -descended from the regions to which I had mounted only for lack of -something better to do, and looked at the person who had addressed me. - -It was a girl of sixteen to eighteen years, with a little cap tied under -her chin, a calico dress, and a modest apron of black mohair. She had -every appearance of a young workgirl who had just finished her day's -work and was on her way home. I made haste to look at her face: a -charming face, on my word! Bright, mischievous eyes, a tiny nose, fine -teeth, black hair, and a most attractive ensemble; an expressive face, -too, and a certain charming grace in her bearing. I was forced to -confess that I saw no such pretty things in the moon. - -The girl had under her arm a pasteboard box, which I had unwittingly -jostled; she refastened the string with which it was tied, and seemed to -apprehend that the contents had suffered from my awkwardness. I lost no -time in apologizing. - -"Really, mademoiselle, I am terribly distressed--it was very awkward of -me." - -"It is certain, monsieur, that if you had looked in front of you this -wouldn't have happened." - -"I trust that I have not hurt you?" - -"Me? oh, no! But I'm afraid that my flowers are crumpled; however, I -will fix them all right at home." - -"Ah!" said I to myself; "she's a flowermaker; as a general rule, the -young ladies who follow that trade are not Lucretias; let us see if I -cannot scrape acquaintance with her." - -She replaced her box under her arm, and went her way. I walked by her -side, saying nothing at first. I have always been rather stupid about -beginning gallant interviews; luckily, when one has once made a start, -the thing goes of itself. However, from time to time I ventured a word -or two: - -"Mademoiselle walks very fast. Won't you take my arm? I should be -delighted to escort you. May I not be permitted to see you again? Do you -go to the theatre often? I could send you tickets, if you chose. Pray -be careful; you will surely slip!" and other polite phrases of that -sort, the conventional thing in nocturnal meetings. - -To all this I obtained no reply save: - -"Yes, monsieur;" "no, monsieur;" "leave me, I beg you!" "you are wasting -your time;" "don't follow me." - -Sometimes she made no reply at all, but tossed her head impatiently, and -crossed to the other side of the boulevard. But I crossed in her wake; -and after a few moments of silence, I risked another remark, giving to -my voice the most tender and sentimental inflection conceivable. - -But I began to realize that my chance acquaintance was shyer than I had -at first supposed, and that I might very well have nothing to show for -my long walk, my little speeches, and my sidelong glances. However, her -resistance augmented my desires; I remembered how foolish I felt one -evening when, thinking that I had fallen in with an innocent maid, my -charmer, when we arrived at her door, invited me to go up to her room; -and I beg my readers to believe that I knew too much to accept. But -appearances are so deceptive in Paris! the shrewdest connoisseurs allow -themselves to be cozened; now, I ought to be a connoisseur, for I have -seen a good deal of the world; and yet, I frequently allow myself to be -taken in. - -I made these reflections as I followed my pretty flower girl. She led me -a devilish long way; we walked the whole length of Boulevards -Montmartre, Poissonnire, Bonne-Nouvelle; we passed all the small -theatres. "She lives in the Marais," I thought; "that is plain." We went -through Rue Chariot, Rue de Bretagne, Vieille Rue du Temple. We went on -and on; luckily, the weather was fine, and I knew that she must stop -sooner or later. Yes, and she would probably shut the door in my face; -but what did I care? After all, I was simply killing time; I had not -known what to do with myself, and I had suddenly found an objective -point for my stroll. To be sure, such an objective point is within the -reach of everyone in Paris; and it is easy to provide one's self with -occupation by following the first saucy face one chances to meet. -Indeed, I know many men who do nothing else, and who neglect their -business to do it. Above all, I notice a large number of government -clerks, who, instead of attending to their duties, are constantly -hunting grisettes, on the pretext of going out to buy lunch; to be sure, -they go out without their hats, and run about the city as if they were -simply making neighborly calls; which is very comforting for the -departments, as they are always sure that their clerks are not lost. - -But it is not my business to censure the conduct of other people; -indeed, that would be a most inopportune thing to do, inasmuch as I am -in the very act of setting a bad example; for, a moment ago, I was -meditating upon the instability of human affairs, and now I am giving -chase to a petticoat that covers the most fragile, the weakest, the most -deceitful, but also the most seductive, most alluring, most enchanting -creature that Nature has created! I was losing my head, my imagination -was hard at work, and yet I saw only a foot--a dainty one, 'tis -true--and the beginning of a leg clothed in a modest black woollen -stocking. Ah! if I might only have seen the garter! Faith! all things -considered, it is much better to follow a girl, at the risk of having a -door shut in your face, than to try to read the moon, and to weary one's -brain with metaphysics, astronomy, physiology, and metoposcopy; the -deeper one delves into the vague and the abstract, the less clearly one -discovers the goal and the proof; but, turn your attention to a saucy -face, and you know at once what you wish to accomplish; and in the -company of a pretty woman it is easy to discover the system of nature. - -For several minutes I had said nothing to my young working girl; I was -piqued by her persistent silence; I had even slackened my pace, so that -she might think that I had ceased to follow her. But, although I was -some twenty yards distant, I did not lose sight of her. She stopped, and -so did I. She was speaking to someone; I walked toward them. The someone -was a young man. I bit my lips in vexation; but I tried to distinguish -what they were saying, and I overheard the following dialogue: - -"Good-evening, Mademoiselle Caroline!" - -"Good-evening, Monsieur Jules!" - -"You are going home very late." - -"We have lots of work, especially on Saturday; and then I had a box to -carry to Rue Richelieu; that is what makes me so late." - -"What have you got in this box?" - -"A pretty bunch of roses to wear in my cap to-morrow. I made it myself; -it's very stylish, as you'll see. A clumsy fellow ran into me on the -boulevard, and nearly made me drop it." - -At that, I slunk into the passageway in front of which I had stopped. - -"There are some people who never pay any attention to anything when -they're walking." - -"I fancy this man was a student; he was looking at the sky." - -"Did he ask your pardon?" - -"Oh, yes!--But I must leave you; my aunt's waiting for me, and she'll -give me a scolding." - -"I should be very sorry to be the cause of anything unpleasant happening -to you. We shall see each other to-morrow, shan't we?" - -"Yes, yes; unless my aunt isn't willing that I should dance any more. -She's so cross! Have you got tickets for Tivoli?" - -"Yes, mademoiselle, for four; I will call for you." - -"Early, Monsieur Jules." - -"Oh, never fear! But don't you forget we're to dance the first -contradance together." - -"I never forget such things!" - -"Adieu, Mademoiselle Caroline!" - -"Adieu, Monsieur Jules!" - -Monsieur Jules drew nearer to her, and the girl offered her cheek. I -heard a kiss. Parbleu! it was well worth while going all the way to Rue -des Rosiers to see that! - -The young man walked away, singing; the girl went a few steps farther, -then entered a passageway, of which she closed the door behind her, and -I was left standing in the gutter. - -That Jules was evidently her lover; yes, he had every appearance of a -lover, albeit an honorable one, for I was certain that he kissed nothing -but her cheek; moreover, his conversation did not suggest a seducer. -To-morrow, Sunday, they were going to Tivoli, with the aunt, no doubt, -as he had tickets for four. Well, it was evident that I should have -nothing to show for my walk. It was not the first time, but it was a -pity; for she was pretty, very pretty! I examined the house with care. -One can never tell--chance may serve one at some time. The street was -dark, the moon being behind a cloud, and I could not make out the -number. But that was of no importance, for I could recognize the -passageway, the sharp corner, and the awning. - -"What the devil! Pray be careful what you're doing! You just missed -throwing that on me!" - -An inmate of my charmer's house had opened his window and emptied a -vessel into the street, just as I was trying to distinguish the color of -the wall. Luckily, I escaped with a few splashes; but the incident -abated my curiosity, and I left Rue des Rosiers, wiping my coat tails -with my handkerchief. - - - - -II - -THE PETITE-MATRESSE - - -It was not late when I returned to the boulevard; the performances at -the small theatres were not yet at an end. A dozen ticket speculators -ran to meet me, offering to sell me checks. - -"There's one more act, monsieur," they shouted in my ears; "it's the -best of all; you'll see the duel with a sword and an axe, the fire, and -the ballet. It's a play that draws all Paris. You can go to any part of -the theatre." - -Unable to resist such urgent solicitations, I bought a check which -entitled me to admission to any part of the theatre; but they would only -allow me to go into the pit, or to walk around the corridor. I chose the -latter alternative; as there was but one act to be played, I could see -well enough; and then, the things that happen in the auditorium are -often more amusing than those that happen on the stage. I am rather fond -of examining faces, and there are generally some comical ones in -attendance upon melodramas; the theatres at which that class of play is -given are, as a general rule, frequented by the common people and the -middle class, who do not know what it is to conceal their feelings, and -who consequently abandon themselves unreservedly to all the emotion -aroused by a scene of love or of remorse. - -"Ah! the cur! ah! the blackguard!" exclaimed my nearest neighbor -whenever the tyrant appeared; "he'll get his finish before long." - -I glanced at the speaker; I judged from his hands and his general aspect -that he was a tanner; his eyes were brighter than those of the actor who -played the traitor and against whom he vociferated loudly at every -instant. In front of me, as I stood behind the seats, I noticed a -laundress who sobbed bitterly as she listened to the story of the -princess's misfortunes, and a small boy who crouched under the bench to -avoid seeing the duel. - -"How these good people are enjoying themselves!" I thought; "they are -not surfeited with the theatre; they are absorbed by what is taking -place on the stage; they don't lose a single word, and for the next week -they will think of nothing but what they have seen to-night. I will go -up to the first tier of boxes; there is more style there, but less -enjoyment." - -Through a glass door I caught sight of a most attractive face; I gave -the box opener the requisite amount of money, and entered the box, -determined to do my utmost to make up for the time I had wasted with -Mademoiselle Caroline. - -The lady, who had seemed a charming creature seen through the glass, was -less charming at close range. However, she was not unattractive; she had -style, brilliancy, and dash. She was still young; I saw at once that she -was inclined to flirt, and that the appearance of a young man in her box -would divert her for a moment. - -You will understand, reader, that I was a young man; I believe that I -have not yet told you so. Later, I will tell you who I am, and what -talents, what attractive and estimable qualities, I possess; it will not -take long. - -A gentleman was seated beside the lady in question; he had a commonplace -face, but was fashionably dressed and had distinguished manners. Was he -her husband? I was inclined to think so, for they hardly spoke to each -other. - -I regretted that I had only about half an act to see; with more time, I -might have been able to enter into conversation, to make myself -agreeable, to begin an acquaintance. It seemed to me that I made a -favorable impression; she bestowed divers very soft glances on me; she -was seated so that she could look at me without being seen by her -companion. The ladies are so accustomed to that sort of thing, and so -expert at it! - -"Ah!" I thought; "if ever I marry, I will always sit behind my wife; for -then---- Even so; but if somebody else sits beside her, can I prevent -the feet and knees from doing as they will? It is most embarrassing." - -"This play isn't so bad," said the lady at last, to her neighbor; "the -acting here is not at all amiss." - -"Yes, yes;" nothing but _yes_. Ah! he was surely her husband. I listened -intently, for she was evidently speaking for my benefit. - -"I was horribly bored last night at the Franais; Mars didn't act. -Aren't we going to the Opra to-morrow? There's to be an extra -performance." - -"As you please." - -"After all, it's too hot for enjoyment at the theatre. If there wasn't -always such a medley in the public gardens on Sunday, I would rather go -there than shut myself up in a theatre. What's your idea?" - -"It makes no difference to me." - -The lady made an impatient gesture. The gentleman did not notice it, but -moved nearer the front of the box. I rose to look at the scenery, and my -hand happened to come in contact with the lady's arm, but she did not -move. - -"These theatres are wretchedly ventilated; there's a very unpleasant -odor here," she said, after a moment. - -I thought of my coat tails, which, in truth, smelt anything but sweet. I -could not help smiling, but I instantly offered her a smelling bottle. -She accepted it, and when she returned it did not seem offended because -I pressed the hand with which she presented it to me. - -At that moment the curtain fell. - -"The devil!" I muttered to myself; "what a shame! I came too late. -Mademoiselle Caroline is responsible for it. But what am I saying? If it -had not been for her, I should still be on Boulevard Montmartre, gazing -at the stars; it was because I followed her that I came in here to see -the last act; and by running after a grisette I have fallen in with a -_petite-matresse_ who perhaps is inferior to the grisette! How one -thing leads to another! It was because something was thrown on my coat -that this lady complained of the unpleasant odor, and that I offered her -my smelling bottle and squeezed her hand. After this, who will tell me -that there is no such thing as fate? If I should make this gentleman a -cuckold, it would certainly be the fault of Mademoiselle Caroline, who -refused to listen to me." - -We left the box. I assisted my neighbor to climb over the benches, which -were stationary for the convenience of the public. But the husband took -her arm, and I was obliged to fall behind. - -"Shall I follow, or shall I not follow?"--Such was the question I asked -myself as I descended the staircase. After what had happened to me so -short a time before, I ought to have kept quiet the rest of the evening; -but I was twenty-four years old, I loved the fair sex passionately; -moreover, my last mistress had just proved unfaithful to me,--indeed, it -was that fact which was responsible for my melancholy meditations,--and -a young man who has a strong flavor of sentiment in his makeup cannot -exist without a passion. Unquestionably I was---- - -We were no sooner on the boulevard than they crossed the sidewalk to the -curbstone. - -"Aha!" I said to myself; "they are going to take a carriage; I'll just -listen to what they tell the driver, and in that way I can learn the -address without putting myself to any trouble." - -But it was decreed that I should be disappointed again in my plans. They -walked to a dainty vis--vis and called _Andr_; a footman ran to them, -opened the door, and assisted monsieur and madame to enter. - -My self-esteem received a still sharper prick; a woman who had a -carriage of her own! Here was a conquest that merited the expenditure of -some little time and trouble. I determined to follow madame's -carriage--not on foot; that would be too fatiguing! it might do if she -were in a cab; but with private horses--why, I should have inflammation -of the lungs! I spied a cabriolet, which was just what I wanted. The -other carriage was driving away, so I lost no time. - -"Hi, _cocher_!" - -"Get in, monsieur." - -"I am in." - -"Where are we going, bourgeois?" - -"Follow that carriage just ahead of us, and you shall have a good -_pourboire_." - -The rascal did not need it; I saw that he was already tipsy. I wished -then that I had taken another, but it was too late to change. He lashed -his emaciated horse with all his strength; the infernal beast broke into -a gallop of desperation, and sometimes outstripped the private carriage. - -"Look out!" I said to my driver; "don't whip it so hard; let's not have -an accident." - -"Don't you be afraid, bourgeois, I know my business; you see, I haven't -been driving a cab twenty years without finding out what driving means. -You're with some friends in the green fiacre yonder; very good! I -propose to have you get there ahead of 'em." - -"But I did not tell you that I was with anybody; I want you to follow -that carriage; if you pass it, how can you follow it?" - -"I tell you, bourgeois, that they're a-following us; I'll show 'em that -my horse is worth two of theirs. When Belotte's waked up, there's no -stopping her." - -"Morbleu! you go too fast! We have passed the carriage; where is it -now?" - -"Ah! they're trying to catch up with us; but the coachman's mad. I'm -driving you all right, bourgeois." - -"But stop--stop, I tell you!" - -"Have we got there?" - -"Yes, yes! we've got there." - -"Damme! you see, Belotte's got her second wind, and she's a good one to -go, I tell you. Ho! ho! here you are, master. Where shall I knock?" - -"Nowhere." - -"Ha! ha! not a sign of a fiacre anywhere! Didn't I tell you that you'd -arrive ahead of the others? You see, it's a whim of mine to pass -everything on the road." - -I alighted from the cabriolet and looked all about; no sign of a -carriage; we had lost it. I was frantic; and I had to listen to the -appeals of my drunken driver, who wanted his _pourboire_. I was tempted -to break his whip over his back; but I restrained myself and adopted the -quickest method, which was to pay him and dismiss him. - -"When you want a good driver and a good horse, bourgeois, I'm your man, -you see; you'll always find me on Place Taitbout, near Torchoni's--in -the swell quarter. Ask for Franois; I'm as well known as the clown." - -"All right; I'll remember." - -The villain drove away at last, and I was left alone in a street which -was entirely unfamiliar to me. It was getting late, and, as I had no -desire to pass the night walking the streets, I tried to discover my -whereabouts! After walking some distance I found myself at a spot which -I recognized; I was on Rue des Martyrs, near the Montmartre barrier. -Luckily, I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, and to get there I had simply -to walk down the hill. So I started, reflecting as I walked. It was a -fitting occasion for reflection, and I had plenty of time. But my -reverie was again interrupted by outcries. As the Quartier des -Porcherons is not frequented by the most select society, and as I was -nowise inclined to seek a third adventure at the Grand Salon, I -quickened my pace, in order to avoid unpleasant encounters. - -But the noise continued; I heard cries and oaths and blows. Women were -calling for the police, the magistrate, and all the constituted -authorities of the quarter; men were pushing and striking one another -and throwing one another into the gutter. Windows were thrown open, and -heads appeared enveloped in nightcaps; they listened and laughed and -conversed from window to window, asking what the trouble was; but they -refrained from going down into the street, because it is not prudent to -meddle in a quarrel after dark. - -The open windows and the faces surmounted by nightcaps reminded me of my -little mishap on Rue des Rosiers. I no longer walked, but flew! fancying -that I was pursued by fatality. But I heard someone running behind me; I -turned into a street to the right; the footsteps followed me. At last I -stopped to recover my breath, and in a moment my pursuer overtook me and -grasped my arm. - - - - -III - -THE FLOWER GIRL - - -"O monsieur! save me! take me with you! protect me from that horrible -Beauvisage, who swore he'd take me away from anyone. Just hear how he's -beating Cadet Finemouche, who's a good fighter himself! My sister was no -fool; she skipped as soon as the fists began to play, and left me to -carry the whole thing on my back; and perhaps she'll go and tell my -mother bad stories about me! I haven't anybody but you to help me, -monsieur; if you won't, I'm a lost girl." - -While my waylayer recited her story, pausing only to wipe away the tears -with the back of her hand, I looked at my new acquaintance and tried to -distinguish her features by the dim light of a street lamp. - -Her language and her dress speedily informed me what manner of person I -had to deal with: a loose red gown, caught in at the waist with a black -velvet scarf; a round cap with a broad lace border; a colored -neckerchief, tied in front, with a large cross _ la_ Jeannette resting -upon it. Mistake in this instance was impossible: it was perfectly -evident that I had before me a _marchande ventaire_,[A] or one of -those hucksters whose booths surround the cemetery of the Innocents. - -[A] That is to say, a huckster, or peddler, who goes from place to place -with her wares displayed on a tray hung from her shoulders. - -My first thought was to see if she was pretty; I found that she was very -good-looking indeed. Her eyes, although filled with tears, had a -sincere, innocent expression which made her interesting at first sight; -her little pout, her grieved air, were softened now and then by a smile -addressed to me; and that smile, which the most accomplished coquette -could not have made more attractive, disclosed two rows of the whitest -teeth, unspoiled by enamel, coral, and all the powders of the perfumer. - -However, despite my new acquaintance's beauty, I was very reluctant to -retain her arm, which she had passed through mine. Surely, with such -charming features, she could not deal in fish or meat. I was morally -certain that she sold flowers; but I did not choose to take a flower -girl for my mistress; at the most, I might, if a favorable opportunity -offered, indulge in a whim, a fancy. But I was not in luck that evening, -and I did not propose to try any more experiments. I determined to rid -myself of the girl. - -As gently as possible, I detached the arm that was passed through mine; -then I assumed a cold expression and said: - -"I am very sorry that I am unable to do what you wish; but I do not know -you; the dispute between Monsieur Beauvisage and Cadet Finemouche -doesn't concern me. Your sister ran away, and you had better do the -same. Your mother may think what she pleases, it is all one to me. It is -after twelve o'clock; I have been walking about the streets long enough, -and I am going home to bed." - -"What, monsieur! you refuse! you are going to leave me! Think of -refusing to go a little out of your way to help a poor girl who is in -trouble because of an accident that might happen to anybody. I tell you -again that my mother is quite capable of not letting me in if I go home -without somebody to answer for me who can swear that I am innocent." - -"And you expect me to swear to that, do you?" - -"Pardine! would that skin your tongue? Besides, you're a fine gentleman, -a swell; she won't dare to fly into a temper before you, and she'll -listen to me. But if I go home alone--what a row! Oh! mon Dieu! how -unlucky I am! I didn't want to go to the Grand Salon at all; I was -afraid of something like this." - -And thereupon the tears and sobs began afresh, and she stamped with her -little feet. Perhaps her mother would tear out her hair; that would be -too bad, for it formed a most becoming frame for that frank, artless -countenance. My heart is not made of stone; I was touched by the girl's -distress, and I said to myself: "If, instead of this jacket, she were -dressed in silk or even in merino, if she wore a dainty bonnet instead -of this round cap, and a pretty locket instead of a cross _ la_ -Jeannette, I would long ago have offered my services with great zeal; I -would play the gallant and make myself as agreeable as possible; I would -cut myself in two to obtain a hearing, and I would regard it as a favor -if she would allow me to offer her my arm. And shall this modest costume -make me cruel, unfeeling? Shall I refuse to do a trivial favor, which -she implores with tears in her eyes? Ah! that would be bad, very -bad!"--I had been following a grisette and a _grande dame_, who perhaps -were not worth so much notice as this poor child; I had passed the -evening making a fool of myself, and I could certainly devote an hour to -a worthy action. I determined to escort my flower girl to her home. - -You see, reader, that I sometimes have good impulses; to be sure, the -girl pleased me much. "All women seem to please you," perhaps you will -say. True, reader; all the pretty ones; and I venture to say that you -are like me. - -I drew nearer to my pretty fugitive. She was sitting on a stone, holding -a corner of her apron to her eyes, and sobbing. - -"Mademoiselle." - -"Mon--monsieur." - -"What is your name?" - -"Ni-Ni-i-cette, monsieur." - -"Well, my little Nicette, have courage; stop crying, and take my arm. I -will take you home to your mother." - -"Real--Really?" - -She jumped for joy; indeed, I believe that she was on the point of -embracing me; but she contented herself with taking my arm, which she -pressed very close in hers, saying: - -"Ah! I was sure that you wouldn't leave me in such a pickle. I'm a good -girl, monsieur; the whole quarter will tell you that Nicette's -reputation's as clear as spring water. But my mother is so ugly! and -then my sister's jealous because she says I make soft eyes at -Finemouche." - -"You can tell me all about it on the way. Where are we going?" - -"Oh, dear! it's quite a little distance. I have a stand at the -Croix-Rouge, and I live on Rue Sainte-Marguerite, where my mother keeps -a fruit shop." - -From Faubourg Montmartre to the Croix-Rouge! that was enough to kill a -man! If only I could find a fiacre! I believe that I would even have -taken Franois's cabriolet, at the risk of having Belotte take the bit -in her teeth; but no carriage of any sort passed us. I had no choice -but to make the best of it; so I took Nicette by the arm and forced her -to quicken her pace. - -"You are a peddler, Nicette," I said; "what do you sell?" - -"Bouquets, monsieur; and they're always fresh, I flatter myself." - -She was a flower girl; I was sure of it. The certainty restored my -courage to some extent, and made the journey seem less long. I should -not have been flattered to act as escort to a fishwoman; and yet, when -it is a matter of rendering a service, should one be influenced by such -petty considerations? But what can you do? that infernal self-esteem is -forever putting itself forward. Moreover, I am no better than other men; -perhaps I am not so good; you may judge for yourselves. - -"Ah! you sell bouquets, do you?" - -"Yes, monsieur; and when you want a nice one, come and see me; I will -always have some ready for you, day or night." - -"Thanks.--But how does it happen that, living in Faubourg Saint-Germain, -you go to a dance near the Montmartre barrier? I should suppose that you -could find balls enough in your own neighborhood." - -"I'll tell you how that happens. My sister Fanchon has a lover, -Finemouche, a brewer, a fine-looking, dark fellow, that all the girls in -the quarter are mad over. My mother says that he's a ne'er-do-well, and -don't want Fanchon to listen to him; but Fanchon's crazy over him, and -she tries all sorts of ways to be with him, on condition that he won't -make love to her except with honest motives. This morning she agreed to -come to Montmartre at dusk, sentimentally, to have a drink of milk. But -she had to make up her mind to take me; mother wouldn't have let her go -alone. We said we were going to see an aunt of ours, who sells oranges -on the boulevard; that was a trick of Fanchon's. I went with her against -my will, especially as Finemouche sometimes gives me a look, that I -don't pay any attention to--on the word of an honest girl!--When we got -to Montmartre we found the brewer, who treated us both to a donkey ride. -After riding round for two hours, I said it was time to turn our toes -toward home; but Finemouche says: 'Let's rest a few minutes at the Grand -Salon--long enough to eat a salad and have a waltz.'--I didn't want to -accept; but my sister likes waltzing and salad, and I had to let her -have her way. So we went to the Grand Salon. Fanchon danced with -Finemouche; so far, everything went well enough. But, as luck would have -it, in comes Beauvisage, a fellow who works in a pork shop on our -street. He's another fellow who makes love to all the girls, and who's -taken it into his head to have a passion for me." - -"You don't seem to lack adorers, Nicette." - -"I have one or two, but it ain't my fault. God knows, I always receive -'em with my fists closed. But these men! the crueler you are, the more -they hang on! I have shown Monsieur Beauvisage that I don't like his -attentions; I always throw his presents in his face; but it don't make -any difference: just as sure as I leave my stand for a minute, when I -come back I find a sausage among my roses, or a pig's foot on my -footwarmer. Why, the other day, my birthday, he actually came to wish me -many happy returns, with a white pudding, and truffled at that! But all -that don't touch my heart; I told him that I wouldn't have him, before -all the old gossips of the quarter; and I threw his pudding in his -face. He went away in a rage, swearing that he'd kidnap me. So you can -imagine that I shivered with fright when I saw him come into the Grand -Salon, especially as I know what a hot-headed fellow he is.--Would you -believe, monsieur, he had the cheek to ask me to dance, just as if -nothing had happened! I refused him flat, because I ain't two-faced. He -tried to force me to dance; Finemouche came running up and ordered him -to let me alone instantly, at which he held me all the tighter. Cadet -handled him so rough that they went out to fight. My sister Fanchon -blamed me, because it made her mad to have her lover fight for me. But -the worst of it all is that Finemouche, who had drunk a good deal with -his salad, was beaten by Beauvisage. Fanchon ran off as soon as she saw -her lover on the ground; I tried to do the same, but my tormentor ran -after me. At last I caught sight of you, monsieur, and that gave me -courage; I was sure you'd protect me; I grabbed your arm, and that's -all." - -Nicette's story interested me; and the thing that pleased me most was -that she seemed to be virtuous and had no lover.--"What difference did -that make to you?" you will say; "as you were a young man in society, of -course you would not make love to a flower girl." True; I had no such -purpose; and yet, I became conscious that for some moments I had been -pressing the girl's arm more tenderly than before. But it was because I -was distraught. - -"Do you think my mother will beat me, monsieur?" - -"I don't see why she should be angry; you have done nothing wrong." - -"Oh! in the first place, we shouldn't have gone to the Grand Salon." - -"That was your sister's fault." - -"Yes, but she'll say it was mine. And then, I'll tell you something. My -mother's inclined to favor Beauvisage, who shuts her eyes with galantine -and never comes to the house without a chitterling eight inches long. -Mother's crazy over chitterlings, and she'd like to have me marry the -pork man, so that she could always have a pig's pudding on hand. But I -have always refused to hear with that ear, and since then they all look -crosswise at me at home. So they'll lay the quarrel and the whole row on -my shoulders. Oh! mon Dieu! I shall be beaten, I am sure!" - -"Poor Nicette! I promise you that I will speak to your mother in your -behalf." - -"Oh! I beg you to! You see, she's quite capable of not letting me in, -and making me spend the night in the street! That miserable Beauvisage! -he's the cause of it all! I'd rather jump into the river than be his -wife!" - -"Can you say as much about Finemouche?" - -"Yes, monsieur; I want a husband to my taste, and I don't like any of -those jokers." - -"Then you have no lover?" - -"No, monsieur." - -"But, at your age, one ought to love." - -"Oh! I'm in no hurry. But we're almost there, monsieur, we're almost -there. Ah! how my heart thumps!" - -I felt that she was really trembling, and, to encourage her, I took one -of her hands and pressed it. She made no resistance, she was thinking of -nothing but her mother. - -At last we reached Rue Sainte-Marguerite; Nicette dared not go any -farther. - -"There's the place, monsieur," she said; "that house next to the porte -cochre." - -"Well, let us go there." - -"Oh! wait just a minute, till I can breathe!" - -"Why are you so frightened? Am I not here?" - -"Pardine! perhaps mother won't even let you in!" - -"We will make her listen to reason." - -"That will be hard." - -"Your sister is more to blame than you." - -"Yes, but she's fond of my sister, and she don't like me." - -"Well, we haven't come all this distance not to try our luck." - -"That is true, monsieur. Come on, let's go to the house." - -We arrived in front of Madame Jrme's shop; I had learned from Nicette -that that was her mother's name. Everything was tightly closed and -perfectly still; no light could be seen inside the house. - -"Does your mother sleep in the shop?" - -"Yes, monsieur; at the back." - -"We must knock." - -"Oh! if only my sister hasn't got home!" - -"Let's knock, in any event." - -I knocked, for Nicette had not the requisite courage; there was no -reply. - -"She sleeps very soundly," I said to the girl. - -"Oh, no, monsieur! that means that she don't intend to let me in." - -"Parbleu! she'll have to answer." - -I knocked again; we heard a movement inside, then someone approached the -door, and a hoarse voice demanded: - -"Who's that knocking at this time of night?" - -"It's me, mother." - -"Ah! it's you, is it, you shameless hussy! and you think I'll let you in -after midnight, when you've been setting men to fighting and turning a -whole quarter upside down! Off with you this minute, and don't ever let -me see you again!" - -"Mother! please let me in; my sister has deceived you." - -"No, no; I know the whole story. You're a cursed little pig-headed fool! -Ah! you don't choose to be a pork man's wife, don't you? All right! go -and walk the streets; we'll see if you have pig's pudding to eat every -day!" - -Nicette wept. I thought that it was time for me to intervene in the -quarrel. - -"Madame," I called through the door, in a voice which I tried to make -imposing, "your daughter has done no wrong; you are scolding her most -unjustly; and if you leave her in the street, you will expose her to the -risk of doing what you will regret." - -I waited for a reply; none was forthcoming, but I heard someone removing -the iron bars, as if to open the shop. I went up to Nicette. - -"You see," said I, "my voice and my remonstrance have produced some -effect. I was certain that I could pacify your mother. Come, dry your -tears; she is coming, and I promise you that I will make her listen to -reason, and that she won't leave you to sleep in the street." - -Nicette listened, but she still doubted my ability to obtain her pardon. -Meanwhile, the noise continued, and the door did, in fact, open. Madame -Jrme appeared on the threshold, wearing a dressing jacket and a -nightcap. I stepped forward to intercede for the girl, who dared not -stir; I was about to begin a sentence which I thought well adapted to -touch a mother's heart, but Madame Jrme did not give me time. - -"So you're the man," she cried, "who brings this boldface home, and -undertakes to preach to me and to teach me how to manage my daughters! -Take that to pay you for your trouble!" - -As she spoke, the fruit seller dealt me a buffet that sent me reeling -toward the other side of the street; then she drew back into her shop -and slammed the door in our faces. - - - - -IV - -MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND - - -For five minutes I did not say a word to Nicette. Madame Jrme's blow -had cooled my zeal in the girl's cause very materially. I could not -forbear reflecting upon the various events of the evening, and I seemed -to detect therein a fatality which made me pay dearly for all my -attempts at seduction. - -For following a working girl, the tip of whose finger I had not been -allowed to squeeze, I had been spattered with filth on Rue des Rosiers; -for playing the gallant and making myself agreeable to a -_petite-matresse_ who bestowed divers exceedingly soft glances upon me, -I had fallen in with an infernal cab driver, who had driven me to a -strange quarter of the city, a long way from my own home; and lastly, -for consenting to act as the protector of a young flower girl, whom I -undertook to reconcile with her mother, I had received a well-aimed blow -on the head. This last catastrophe seemed to me rank injustice on the -part of Providence; for to take Nicette home to Madame Jrme was a very -kind action. What nonsense it is to talk about a benefaction never -being wasted! But my cheek began to burn less hotly, and my ill humor -became less pronounced. It was not Nicette's fault that I had received -that blow. I determined to make the best of my predicament and to -console the poor child, whose distress was much augmented by this last -accident. - -"You are right, Nicette; your mother is very unkind." - -"Oh, yes, monsieur! What did I tell you? I am awful sorry for what -happened to you; but if you hadn't been there, I should have been beaten -much worse than that." - -"In that case, it is clear that all is for the best." - -"My mother's very quick!" - -"That is true." - -"She has a light hand." - -"I found it rather heavy!" - -"She cuffs me for a _yes_ or a _no_; but it's worse than ever, since I -refused Beauvisage. Ah! I am very unhappy! It wouldn't take much to make -me jump into the Canal de l'Ourcq." - -"Come, come, be calm; the most urgent thing now is to find out where you -can go to pass the night, as your mother really refuses to admit you. -Have you any relations in this quarter?" - -"Mon Dieu! no, not a soul; I have an aunt in Faubourg Saint-Denis; but -she wouldn't take me in--she'd be too much afraid of having a row with -my mother." - -"Madame Jrme is a general terror, I see." - -"Alas! yes." - -"Where will you sleep, then?" - -"At your house, monsieur, with your permission; or else in the street." - -There was in Nicette's suggestion such childlike innocence, or such -shameless effrontery, that I could not restrain a start of surprise. It -is difficult to believe in the innocence and navet of a flower girl. -And yet, in her language there was something so sincere, so persuasive; -and on the other hand, her eyes, whose expression was so soft and tender -when they were not bathed in tears, her little retrouss nose, the way -in which she had seized my arm, and, lastly, this barefaced proposal to -pass the night in a young man's apartment--all these things threw my -mind into a state of uncertainty to which I tried in vain to put an end. - -However, I was obliged to make up my mind. Nicette was gazing at me, -awaiting my answer; her eyes implored me. My heart was weak. - -"Come with me," I said at last. - -"Ah! monsieur, how good you are! how I thank you!" - -Again she took possession of my arm, and we started for Rue -Saint-Florentin. This time we made the journey in silence. I was musing -upon the singularity of the adventure that had happened to me. The idea -of my taking a street corner huckster home with me, to sleep in my -rooms! And remember, reader, that I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, near -the Tuileries; you will divine, from that detail, that I was something -of a swell, but a swell who followed grisettes. Oh! it was simply as a -pastime. I was not in the least conceited, I beg you to believe; and if -an impulse which I could not control drew me constantly toward the fair -sex, and led me to overlook rank and social station, I may say with -Boileau: - - "'Twas destiny's fault!" - -But I was not one of those persons, either, who defy all the -proprieties; I did not wish to be looked upon, in the house in which I -lived, as a man who consorted with the first woman he chanced to meet; -and in that house, as everywhere, there were malicious tongues! I had, -in particular, a certain neighbor. Ah!---- - -It was necessary, therefore, to keep Nicette out of sight. I hoped that -that would be an easy matter, so far as going in was concerned. It was -at least one o'clock in the morning, and my concierge would be in bed; -when that was the case, if anyone knocked, she simply inquired, from her -bed: "Who's that?" and then pulled the cord, without disturbing herself -further. So that Nicette could go up to my room unseen. But as to her -going away the next day! Madame Dupont, my concierge, was inquisitive -and talkative; she was like all concierges--I need say no more. The -whole household would hear of the adventure; I should be unmercifully -laughed at; it would be known in society. It was most embarrassing; but -I could not leave Nicette in the street. Poor child! the watch would -find her and take her to the police station, as a vagrant! And I -honestly believed that she was a respectable girl; I almost believed -that she was innocent; however, that would appear in due time. - -We crossed the bridges, followed the quays, and at last drew near our -destination. Nicette did not walk so rapidly as at first; she was tired -out by her evening's work; and I--well, I leave it to you to guess! - -"Here we are!" I said at last. - -"I'm glad of it; for I'm awful tired." - -"And I, too, I assure you. I must knock." - -"Oh! what a beautiful street! and what a fine house!" - -"You mustn't make any noise when we go upstairs, Nicette; you mustn't -speak!" - -"No, monsieur, never fear; I don't want to wake anybody up." - -"Sh! The door is open." - -Madame Dupont asked who was there; I replied, and we entered the house; -the hall light was out and it was very dark; that was what I wanted. - -"Give me your hand," I whispered to Nicette, "and let me lead you; but, -above all things, no noise." - -"All right, monsieur." - -I led her to the staircase, which we ascended as softly as possible. I -wished with all my heart that we were safely in my rooms. If anyone -should open a door, I could not conceal Nicette; I had not even a cloak -to throw over her, for it was summer. - -I lived on the fourth floor; to obtain a desirable bachelor's apartment -on Rue Saint-Florentin, one had to pay a dear price, even if it were -very high. On the same landing with me lived a curious mortal of some -thirty-six to forty years, whose face would have been insignificant but -for the fact that his absurd airs and pretensions made it comical. He -was of medium height, and strove to assume an agile and sprightly gait -and bearing, despite an embonpoint which became more pronounced every -day. He had four thousand francs a year, which left him free to devote -himself to the business of other people. Moreover, he was poet, painter, -musician; combining all the talents, as he said and believed, but in -reality a butt for the ridicule of both men and women, especially the -latter; but he insinuated himself everywhere, none the less, attended -every party, every ball, every concert; because in society everybody is -popular who arouses laughter, whether it be by his wit or by his -absurdities. - -We had just arrived at my landing, when Monsieur Raymond suddenly opened -his door and appeared before us in his shirt and cotton nightcap, with a -candle in one hand, and a key in the other. - -I did not know whether to step forward or to turn back. Monsieur Raymond -stared with all his eyes, and Nicette laughed aloud. - -I was determined that he should not, at all events, have time to -scrutinize the girl; I fumbled hastily in my pocket for my key, but it -was entangled in my handkerchief; I could not get it out, I could not -find the lock; the more I tried to hurry, the less I succeeded; it -seemed that the devil was taking a hand! - -Monsieur Raymond, observing my embarrassment, walked toward me with a -mischievous smile and held his light under my nose, saying: - -"Allow me to give you some light, neighbor; you can't see, you are at -one side of the lock." - -I would gladly have given him the blow that Madame Jrme had given me! -but I realized that I must restrain myself; so I thanked him, unlocked -my door, and entered, pushing Nicette before me. I closed the door, -paying no heed to Monsieur Raymond's offer to light my candle for me. - -But suddenly an idea came into my mind; I took a candle, opened my door -again, and ran after Raymond, seizing him by his shirt just as he was -entering a certain place. I put my finger to my lips, with a mysterious -air. - -"What's the matter?" queried Raymond, extricating his shirt from my -hand. - -"Don't mention the fact that you saw Agathe with me to-night." - -"A--Agathe! What do you say? Why, you are joking!" - -"We have just come from a masquerade; she disguised herself for it, -and----" - -"Do you mean to say that there are masquerade balls in July?" - -"There are if anyone chooses to give one; this was for somebody's -birthday." - -"But that girl----" - -"She is well disguised, isn't she? I'll bet that you didn't recognize -her at the first glance. The costume--the rouge--they change one's whole -appearance." - -"Faith! I confess that I didn't see even the slightest resemblance." - -"I rely on your discretion. To-morrow I will tell you what my motive is; -you will laugh with me at the adventure. Au revoir, neighbor; -good-night! Allow me to light my candle, now." - -"Much pleasure to you, Monsieur Dorsan!" - -I left Raymond and returned to my room. My neighbor was not fully -persuaded that it was Agathe whom he had seen; but I had at least, by my -stratagem, reserved for myself an answer to his gossip; and if he should -talk, I could easily persuade people that he was asleep and had not seen -things as they were. - -"But," you will say, "by that falsehood you destroyed another woman's -reputation. Who is this Agathe whom you put forward so inconsiderately?" - -This Agathe is my last mistress, with whom I had broken only a short -time before; she is a milliner, very lively, very alluring, and very -wanton! She had sometimes done me the honor to come to me to ask -hospitality for the night; my neighbor had often seen her going in and -out of my room, so that once more or less would do her no harm. Her -reputation was in no danger, as you see. - -Now that I have told you about Mademoiselle Agathe, with whom Monsieur -Raymond did not know that I had fallen out, not being in my confidence, -I return to Nicette, who is in my apartment, waiting for me. It was -half-past one in the morning; but there is time for a great deal between -that hour and daybreak! My heart beat fast! Faith! I had no idea what -the night would bring to pass. - - - - -V - -WHAT THE NIGHT BROUGHT TO PASS - - -"What a funny man that is!" said Nicette, as I entered the room with a -light. "When I saw that figure, in his shirt, that neckerchief tied with -a lover's knot, that big nose, and those surprised eyes, I couldn't keep -from laughing." - -"I must confess, Mademoiselle Nicette, that you cause me a lot of -trouble!" - -"Do I, monsieur? Oh! I am so sorry!" - -"But here we are in my rooms at last, God be praised! I don't quite -know, though, how you are to go out!" - -"Pardine! through the door, as I came." - -"That's easy for you to say! However, we will see, when to-morrow -comes." - -Nicette looked about her. She examined my apartment, my furniture; she -followed me into each room; I had only three, by the way: a small -reception room, a bedroom, and a study where I worked, or read, or -played the piano, or did whatever else I chose. - -"Sit down and rest," I said. - -"Oh! in a moment, monsieur; you see----" - -She glanced at my couch and my easy-chairs; she seemed to be afraid to -go near them. I could not help smiling at her embarrassment. - -"Doesn't the apartment please you?" I inquired. - -"Oh! yes, indeed, monsieur! but it's all so fine and so shiny! I'm -afraid of spoiling something." - -"You need not be afraid." - -I led her to the couch, and almost forced her to sit down by my side. - -"I am alone, you see, Nicette; you have come to a bachelor's quarters." - -"Oh! I don't care about that, monsieur; at any rate, I didn't have any -choice." - -"Then you're not afraid to pass the night with me?" - -"No, monsieur; I see that you're an honorable man, and that I needn't be -afraid of anything in your rooms." - -"Oho! she sees that I am an honorable man!" said I to myself; "in that -case, I must have a very captivating countenance. However, I am not -ill-looking; some women say that I am rather handsome; and this girl -isn't afraid to pass the night with a good-looking bachelor! Perhaps she -thinks me ugly." - -These reflections annoyed me; while making them, I looked at Nicette -more closely than I had hitherto been able to do. She was really very -good-looking; a face at once piquant and sweet, and with some -character--absolutely unlike what we ordinarily find in a flower girl: -she had the freshness and charm of her flowers, and she was the daughter -of a fruit peddler, of Mother Jrme! There are such odd contrasts in -nature; however, I could but acknowledge that chance had been very -favorable to me this time. I began to be quite reconciled to my -evening's entertainment; I forgot the grisette and the -_petite-matresse_, to think solely of the charming face at my side. - -As I gazed at the girl, I had moved nearer to her; I softly passed my -arm about her waist; and the more favorable the examination, the more -tightly I pressed the red gown. - -Nicette did not speak, but she seemed agitated; her bosom rose and fell -more frequently, her respiration became shorter; she kept her eyes on -the floor. Suddenly she extricated herself from my embrace, rose, and -asked me, in a trembling voice, where she was to pass the night. - -That question embarrassed me; I admit that I had not yet thought of -that. I glanced at Nicette; her lovely eyes were still fastened on the -floor. Was she afraid to meet mine? Did she love me already? and---- -Nonsense! that infernal self-esteem of mine was off at a gallop! - -"We have time enough to think about that, Nicette. Do you feel sleepy?" - -"Oh, no! it ain't that, monsieur." - -"Ah! so there's another reason, is there?" - -"I don't want to be in your way; you told me you was tired, too." - -"That has all passed away; I have forgotten it." - -"Never mind, monsieur; show me where I can pass the night. I'll go into -one of the other rooms. I shall be very comfortable on a chair, and----" - -"Pass the night on a chair! Nonsense! you mustn't think of such a -thing!" - -"Oh, yes! I ain't hard to suit, monsieur." - -"No matter; I shan't consent to that. But sit down, Nicette, there's no -hurry now. Come and sit down. Are you afraid to sit beside me?" - -"No, monsieur." - -But she took her seat at the other end of the couch. Her blushing face -and her confusion betrayed a part of her sensations. I myself was -embarrassed--think of it! with a flower girl! Indeed, it was just -because she was a flower girl that I didn't know where to begin. I give -you my word, reader, that I should have made much more rapid progress -with a _grande dame_ or a grisette. - -"Do you know, Nicette, that you are charming?" - -"I have been told so, monsieur." - -"You must have many men making love to you?" - -"Oh! there's some that try to fool me when they come to buy flowers of -me; but I don't listen to 'em." - -"Why do you think that they are trying to fool you?" - -"Oh! because they're swells--like you." - -"So, if I should mention the word _love_ to you, you would think----" - -"That you was making fun of me. Pardi! that's plain enough!" - -That beginning was not of good augury. No matter, I continued the -attack, moving gradually nearer the girl. - -"I swear to you, Nicette, that I never make fun of anyone!" - -"All men say that!" - -"Besides, you are quite pretty enough to arouse a genuine passion." - -"Yes, a passion of a fortnight! Oh! I ain't to be caught in that trap." - -"On my honor, you are too pretty for a flower girl." - -"Bah! you are joking." - -"If you chose, Nicette, you could find something better to do than -that." - -"No, monsieur, no; I don't want to sell anything but bouquets. Oh! I -ain't vain. I refused Beauvisage, who's got money, and who'd have given -me calico dresses, caps _ la glaneuse_, and gilt chains; but all those -things didn't tempt me. When I don't like a person, nothing can make me -change my mind." - -She was not covetous; so that it was necessary to win her regard in -order to obtain anything from her. I determined to win her regard. But I -have this disadvantage when I try to make myself agreeable: I never know -what I am saying; that was why I sat for ten minutes without speaking a -word to Nicette, contenting myself with frequent profound sighs and an -occasional cough, to revive the conversation. But Nicette was very -innocent, or perhaps she meant to laugh at me when she said with great -sang-froid: - -"Have you got a bad cold, monsieur?" - -I blushed at my idiocy; the idea of being so doltish and timid with a -flower seller! Really, I hardly recognized myself. - -And the better to recognize myself, I put my arms about Nicette and -tried to draw her into my lap. - -"Let go of me, monsieur; let go, I beg you!" - -"Why, what harm are we doing, Nicette?" - -"I don't want you to squeeze me so tight." - -"One kiss, and I'll let you go." - -"Just one, all right." - -Her consent was necessary, for she was very well able to defend herself; -she was strong and could make a skilful use of her hands and knees; and -as I was not accustomed to contests of that sort, in which our society -ladies give us little practice, I began to think that I should find it -difficult to triumph over the girl. - -She gave me permission to kiss her, and I made the most of it; trusting -in my promise, she allowed me to take that coveted kiss, and offered me -her fresh, rosy cheek, still graced with the down of youth and -innocence. - -But I desired a still greater privilege; I longed to steal from a lovely -pair of lips a far sweeter kiss. Nicette tried, but too late, to prevent -me. I took one, I took a thousand. Ah! how sweet were those kisses that -I imprinted on Nicette's lips! Saint-Preux found Julie's bitter; but I -have never detected a trace of bitterness in a pretty woman's kisses; to -be sure, I am no Saint-Preux, thank heaven! - -A consuming flame coursed through my veins. Nicette shared my emotion; I -could tell by the expression of her eyes, by the quivering of her whole -frame. I sought to take advantage of her confusion to venture still -further; but she repulsed me, she tore herself from my arms, rushed to -the door, and was already on the landing, when I overtook her and caught -her by her skirt. - -"Where in heaven's name are you going, Nicette?" - -"I am going away, monsieur." - -"What's that?" - -"Yes, monsieur, I am going away; I see now that I mustn't pass the night -here in your rooms; I wouldn't have believed that you'd take advantage -of my trouble to---- But since I made a mistake, I'm going away." - -"Stop, for heaven's sake! Where would you go?" - -"Oh! I don't know about that; but it don't make any difference! I see -that I'd be safer in the street than alone here with you." - -I felt that I deserved that reproach. The girl was virtuous; she had -placed herself under my protection without distrust; she had asked me -for hospitality, and I was about to take advantage of her helpless -plight, to seduce her! That was contemptible behavior. But I may say, in -my own justification, that I did not know Nicette, and that, for all the -artless simplicity of her language, a young girl who suggests to a man -that she pass the night under his roof certainly lays herself open to -suspicion, especially in Paris, where innocent young maids are so rare. - -She still held the door ajar, and I did not relax my grasp of her skirt. -I looked in her face, and saw great tears rolling down her cheeks. Poor -child! it was I who caused them to fall! She seemed prettier to me than -ever; I was tempted to throw myself at her feet and beg her to forgive -me. But what! I, on my knees before a street peddler! Do not be alarmed: -I did not offend the proprieties to that extent. - -"I beg you to remain, Nicette," I said, at last. - -"No, monsieur; I made a mistake about you; I must go." - -"Listen to me; in the first place, you can't go away from the house -alone; at this time of night the concierge opens the door only to those -who give their names." - -"Oh! but I remember your name; it's Dorsan." - -"It isn't enough to give my name; she would know that it wasn't my -voice." - -"All right; then I'll stay in the courtyard till morning." - -"Excellent; everybody will see you; and think of the remarks and -tittle-tattle of all the cooks of the quarter! It's bad enough that that -infernal Raymond should have seen you. Come back to my rooms, Nicette; I -promise, yes, I swear, to behave myself and not to torment you." - -She hesitated; she looked into my face, and doubtless my eyes told her -all that was taking place in my mind; for she closed the door of the -landing, and smiled at me, saying: - -"I believe you, and I'll stay." - -In my joy I was going to kiss her again; but I checked myself, and I did -well: oaths amount to so little! - -"But, monsieur," she said, "we can't pass the night sitting in your big -easy-chair." - -She was quite right; that would have been too dangerous. - -"You will sleep in my bed," I replied, "and I will pass the night on the -sofa in my study. No objections, mademoiselle; I insist upon it. You -will be at liberty to double-lock my study door; you can go to sleep -without the slightest fear. Does that suit you?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -We went back into my bedroom; I lighted another candle, and carried the -couch into my study, with Nicette's assistance. I confess that that -operation was a painful one to me. However, it was done at last. - -"Now you may go to bed and sleep in peace. Good-night, Nicette!" - -"Good-night, monsieur!" - -I took my candle and retired to my study, closing the door behind me. -There we were, in our respective quarters. I blew out the candle and -threw myself on the couch. If only I could sleep; time passes so quickly -then! And yet, we sleep about a third part of our lives! and we are -always glad to plunge into that oblivion, albeit we stand in fear of -death, which is simply a never-ending sleep, during which it is certain -that one is not disturbed by bad dreams! - -Sleep, indeed! In vain did I stretch myself out, and twist and turn in -every direction. I could not sleep; it was impossible. I concluded to -resign myself to the inevitable, and I began to recall the incidents of -my extraordinary evening; I thought of Caroline, of the charming woman -at the theatre, of that infernal cabman. I tried to put Nicette out of -my thoughts; but she constantly returned; I strove in vain to banish -her. The idea that she was close at hand, within a few feet of me, that -only a thin partition separated me from her--that idea haunted me! When -I thought that I might be beside her, that I might hold her in my arms -and give her her first lessons in love and pleasure--then I lost my -head, my blood boiled. Only Nicette's consent was needed to make us -happy, and she would not give it! To be sure, that same happiness might -have results most embarrassing to her. - -I had the fidgets in my legs. I rose and paced the floor, but very -softly; perhaps she was asleep, and I would not wake her. Poor child! -she had had trouble enough during the evening, and I was afraid that -still greater trouble was in store for her; for if her mother persisted -in her refusal to take her in, what would she do? Until that moment, I -had not given a thought to her future. - -But I had not heard the key turn in the lock; therefore, she had not -locked herself in. That was strange; evidently she relied on my oath. -What imprudence, to believe in a young man's promises! - -Was she asleep or not? that was what tormented me. For half an hour I -stood close against the door, turning first one ear, then the other, and -listening intently; but I could hear nothing. I looked through the -keyhole; there was a light in the room; was it from caution, or -forgetfulness? - -But she had not locked the door. Ah! perhaps she had locked it without -my hearing it. It was very easy to satisfy myself on that point. I -turned the knob very gently, and the door opened. I stopped, fearing -that I had made a noise. But I heard nothing. If I could see her for a -moment asleep, see her in bed--for there, and only there can one judge a -woman's beauty fairly. I leaned forward; the candle stood on the -commode, at some little distance from the bed. I stepped into the room, -holding my breath, and stood by her side. She was not undressed; I might -have guessed as much. I turned to walk away. Ah! those miserable shoes! -they squeaked, and Nicette awoke. I determined to change my shoemaker. - -"Do you want anything, monsieur?" she asked. - -"No; that is to say, yes, I--I was looking for a book; but I have found -it." - -I returned quickly to my study, feeling that I must have cut a sorry -figure. The door was closed, and I was not tempted to open it again. Ah! -how long that night seemed to me! The day came at last! - - - - -VI - -MADEMOISELLE AGATHE - - -It was long after daybreak. People were already going and coming in the -house, and I had not yet ventured to wake Nicette. She was sleeping so -soundly! and the preceding day had been a day of tempest, after which -rest was essential. But I heard a movement at last; she rose, opened the -door, and came toward me, smiling. - -"Monsieur, will you allow me to kiss you?" - -I understood: that was my reward for my continence during the night, and -it was well worth it. She kissed me with evident pleasure, and I began -to feel the enjoyment that one is likely to feel when one has no -occasion for self-reproach. - -"Now, Nicette, let us talk seriously; but, no, let us breakfast first of -all; we can talk quite as well at table. You must feel the need of -something to eat, do you not?" - -"Yes, monsieur, I should like some breakfast right well." - -"I always keep something on hand for unexpected guests." - -"Tell me where everything is, monsieur, and I'll set the table." - -"On the sideboard yonder, and in the drawers." - -"All right, all right!" - -She ran to fetch what we required. In two minutes the table was set. I -admired Nicette's grace and activity; a little maid-servant like that, -I thought, would suit me infinitely better than my concierge, Madame -Dupont, who took care of my rooms. But, apropos of Madame Dupont, -suppose she should appear? We had time enough, however; for it was only -seven o'clock, and the concierge, knowing that I was a little inclined -to be lazy, never came up before eight. So that we could breakfast at -our ease. - -"Let us talk a little, Nicette. I am interested in your future; you -cannot doubt that." - -"You have proved it, monsieur." - -"What are you going to do when you leave me?" - -"Go back to my mother." - -"That is quite right; but suppose she still refuses to let you in?" - -"I will try to find work; I will go out to service, if I must; perhaps I -shall be able to get in somewhere." - -"Undoubtedly; but who can say what sort of people you will encounter, -and what hands you will fall into? Young and pretty as you are, you will -find it harder than others might to get a suitable place, if, as I -assume, you mean to remain virtuous." - -"Oh! indeed I do mean to remain virtuous, monsieur." - -"I know what men are; they are almost all libertines; marriage puts no -curb on their passions. Wherever you take service, your masters will -make you some unequivocal proposals, and will maltreat you if you reject -them." - -"Then I will leave the house; I'll hire myself out to a single lady." - -"Old maids are exacting, and keep their young servants in close -confinement, for fear that they may walk the streets and make -acquaintances. Young women receive much company, and will set you a -dangerous example." - -"How good you talk this morning!" - -"Don't wonder at that; a drunkard is a connoisseur in wine, a welcher in -horses, a painter in pictures, a libertine in methods of seduction. For -the very reason that I am not virtuous, I am better able than another to -warn you of the risks you are about to run. Experience teaches. You did -not yield to me, and I desire to preserve you for the future. Don't be -grateful to me for it; very likely, it is simply a matter of self-esteem -on my part, for I feel that it would be distressing to me to see the -profanation of a flower that I have failed to pluck. You understand me, -don't you, Nicette?" - -"Yes, yes, monsieur! I'm no prude, and I know what you mean! But don't -be afraid! How could I give another what I refused you?" - -She said this with evident feeling and sincerity. Clearly she liked me; -I could not doubt it; she was all the more praiseworthy for having -resisted me. - -"After all, my dear girl, I don't see why you shouldn't continue to sell -flowers; it is better suited to you than domestic service." - -"That is true, monsieur, but----" - -"I understand you. Here, Nicette, take this purse; you may accept it -without a blush, for it is not the price of your dishonor. I am simply -doing you a favor, lending you a little money, if you like that better." - -"Oh! monsieur, money--from a young man! What will people think of that?" - -"You must not say from whom you got it." - -"When a girl suddenly has money in her possession, people think, they -imagine that----" - -"Let the gossips chatter, and force them to hold their tongues by the -way you behave." - -"My mother----" - -"A mother who refuses to support her child has no right to demand an -account of her actions." - -"But this purse--you are giving me too much, monsieur." - -"The purse contains only three hundred francs; I won it two days ago at -cart. Really, Nicette, if you knew how easily money is lost at cards, -you would be less grateful to me for this trifle." - -"A trifle! three hundred francs! enough to set me up in business! Why, -monsieur, it's a treasure!" - -"Yes, to you who know the full value of money, and use it judiciously. -But things are valuable only so long as they are in their proper place." - -"All this means, I suppose, that you are very rich?" - -"It means that, having been brought up in affluence, accustomed to -gratify all my whims, I am not familiar enough with the value of money. -This three hundred francs that I offer you, I should probably lose at -cards without a pang; so take the money, Nicette; you can give it back -to me, if the day ever comes when I need it." - -"Oh, yes! whenever you want it, monsieur; everything I have will always -be at your service." - -"I don't doubt it, my dear friend; so that business is settled." - -"Yes, monsieur; if my mother sends me away, I'll hire a small room, I'll -buy flowers; I'll be saving and orderly, and perhaps some day I'll get -where I can have a nice little shop of my own." - -"Then you will marry according to your taste, and you'll be happy." - -"Perhaps so! but let's not talk about that, monsieur." - -"Well! time flies; it's nearly eight o'clock, and you must go, Nicette." - -"Yes, monsieur, that is true; whenever you say the word. But I--is----" - -"What do you want to say?" - -"Shan't I see you again?" - -"Yes, indeed; I hope to see you often. If you move to another quarter, -you must leave your new address with my concierge." - -"Very well, monsieur; I won't fail." - -The child was in evident distress; she turned her face away to conceal -her tears. Could it be that she was sorry to leave me? What nonsense! We -had known each other only since the night before! And yet, I too was -unhappy at parting from her. - -She was certain to meet one or more servants on the stairs; but what was -she to do? there was no other way out. She promised to go down very -rapidly, and to hurry under the porte cochre. - -I kissed her affectionately--too affectionately for a man who had given -her three hundred francs; it was too much like taking compensation for -the gift. - -I opened the door leading to the landing, and stood aside to let Nicette -go out first, when a roar of laughter made me look up. That fiendish -Raymond's door was open, and he stood inside with a young woman; that -young woman was Agathe! - -It was a contemptible trick. I recognized Raymond's prying curiosity and -Agathe's spirit of mischief. They were on the watch for me, no doubt; -possibly they had been on sentry-go since daybreak. But how did it -happen that Agathe was there? She had never spoken to Raymond. I swore -that he should pay me for his perfidy. - -Nicette looked at me, trying to read in my eyes whether she should go -forward or back. It was useless to pretend any longer; perhaps, indeed, -if there were any further delay, Monsieur Raymond would succeed in -collecting a large part of the household on my landing. So I pushed -Nicette toward the stairs. - -"Adieu, Monsieur Dorsan!" she said sadly. - -"Adieu, adieu, my child! I hope that your mother---- I will see--you -shall hear--perhaps we may--adieu!" - -I had no idea what I was saying; anger and vexation impeded my -utterance. But Nicette, who was moved by but one sentiment,--regret at -leaving me,--wiped the tears from her eyes with a corner of her apron. - -"Ha! ha! this is really sentimental!" laughed Mademoiselle Agathe, as -she watched the girl go downstairs; "what! tears and sighs! Ha! ha! it's -enough to make one die of laughing! But I should be much obliged to you, -monsieur, if you would tell me how it happened that I was at a ball with -you last night, and disguised, without knowing anything about it. Well! -why don't you speak? don't you hear me?" - -My attention was engrossed by another object. My eyes were fastened on -my neighbor, and my steadfast gaze evidently embarrassed him; for, in a -moment, I saw that he turned as red as fire; he began to shift about in -his confusion, tried to smile, and at last returned to his own room, -taking care to lock the door. - -"Ah! Monsieur Raymond, I owe you one for this! we shall meet again!" I -said, walking toward his door. Then I turned to answer Mademoiselle -Agathe, but she had entered my apartment; and as she was perfectly -familiar with the locality, I found her in my little study, nonchalantly -reclining on the sofa. - -"Do tell me, Eugne, what all this means? Mon Dieu! how things are -changed about! the couch in the study; the bed partly tumbled; the -remains of a breakfast. What happened here last night?" - -"Nothing, I assure you." - -"Oh! nothing out of the ordinary course, I understand that. But this -couch puzzles me. Tell me about it, Eugne, my little Eugne. Because -you are no longer my lover is no reason why we shouldn't be friends." - -You are aware, reader, that Mademoiselle Agathe is the milliner with -whom I had fallen out because I discovered that she was unfaithful to -me. In fact, it was my vexation on her account that had led me to -indulge in those melancholy reflections during my stroll along the -boulevard on the preceding evening. But since then my susceptible heart -had experienced so many new sensations, that the memory of Agathe's -treachery had vanished altogether; I had ceased to regret her, -consequently I was no longer angry with her. I realized that she was -justified in joking me about my serious air, which was not at all -consistent with our former liaison, and which might have led one to -think that I expected to find a Penelope in a young milliner. So I -assumed a more cheerful demeanor, and questioned her in my turn. - -"How did you happen to be there on my landing, talking with Raymond, -whom you could never endure?" - -"But this couch--this couch here in the study?" - -"You shall know all about it, but answer me first." - -"Oh! I've no objection; I went into the country yesterday with -Gerville--you know, the young government clerk who lives on the floor -below." - -"Yes, my successor, in fact." - -"Your successor, call him so. We returned late; I was very tired, -and----" - -"You passed the night with him; that's a matter of course, and perfectly -natural, in my opinion. Well?" - -"Why, I had to go away this morning. At half-past six, I crept softly -downstairs and was just passing through the porte cochre, when I saw -Raymond standing guard at the corner. He scrutinized me, and smiled -slyly.--'On my word,' he said, 'I didn't believe it was you; you were -perfectly disguised; the fishwoman's costume is very becoming to you, -and yet it changes you amazingly. I'd have sworn that Monsieur Dorsan -was lying to me.'--I listened, without understanding a word; but your -name and what he said aroused my curiosity. I suspected some mistake, so -I forced Raymond to tell me all he knew; I haven't stopped laughing at -it yet. Raymond was delighted when he found out that it wasn't I who was -with you. I asked him if he was certain that your new victim was still -in the house. He said he was; for he had passed most of the night on the -landing, and had gone on duty at the porte cochre at daybreak. So I -came up with him, to make the tableau more interesting; and we waited at -least an hour, until it was your good pleasure to open your door. We -would have stayed there till night, I assure you, rather than not -satisfy our mutual curiosity." - -"Gad! what a fellow that Raymond is! An old woman couldn't have done -better." - -"Well, I've told my story; now it's your turn." - -"What do you want me to tell you? You saw a girl leave my rooms, eh?" - -"Yes, she was very pretty; a face that takes your eye; rather a large -mouth. But that costume! What, Monsieur Eugne! you, a dandy of dandies, -caught by a round cap! Why, I no longer recognize you!" - -"For what I propose to do, mademoiselle, the question of cap or hat is -of no consequence at all." - -"Of course, you don't propose to do anything, because you have done -enough." - -"You are mistaken, Agathe. That is an honest, virtuous girl; she is -nothing to me, and never will be." - -"What's that? Oh! it's as plain as a pikestaff: she came here to sleep, -so as not to be afraid of the dark; that's all!-- - - "'Go and see if they're coming, Jean!'" - -"I realize that appearances are against us; and yet nothing can be more -true than what I tell you. The explanation as to the couch being in the -study is that she slept in my bedroom, and I slept here." - -"For ten minutes, very likely; but after that you joined her." - -"No; I swear that I did not." - -"You'd never have been donkey enough to stay here." - -"I understand that, in your eyes, virtue and innocence are the merest -folly." - -"Ah! you are not polite, monsieur. But as I have never known you to be -either virtuous or innocent, I may be permitted to express surprise at -your virtuous qualities, which are entirely unfamiliar to me." - -"I am not trying to make myself out any better than I am, and I confess -to you frankly that I attempted to triumph over this girl; but her -resistance was so natural, her tears so genuine, her entreaties so -touching, that I was really deeply moved and almost repented of what I -had tried to do." - -"That is magnificent; and I presume that the virtuous and innocent -orange girl came to your rooms in order that her resistance might be the -better appreciated.--Ha! ha! what a fairy tale!" - -"You may believe what you choose. It is none the less true that Nicette -is virtuous and that she isn't an orange girl." - -"Oh! pardon me, monsieur, if I have unintentionally slighted your -charmer. Mademoiselle Nicette probably sells herring at the March des -Innocents?" - -"No, mademoiselle; she sells nothing but flowers." - -"Flowers! Why, that is superb! Ah! so she's a flower girl! I am no -longer surprised at your consideration for her." - -"She certainly deserves more consideration than many women who wear -fashionable bonnets." - -"Or who make them, eh?" - -"The argument is even stronger as to them." - -"Monsieur is vexed because I venture to doubt the virtuous morals of a -girl who comes, very innocently no doubt, to sleep with a young man, who -has himself turned Cato in twenty-four hours! Look you, Eugne, I don't -care what you say, it isn't possible." - -"I shall say nothing more, because I attach no value to your opinion." - -"Again! No matter, let's make peace; and I will believe, if it will give -you pleasure, that your friend was the Maid of Orleans." - -Mademoiselle Agathe came to me and kissed me; she was almost on my -knees; she embraced me very lovingly, and I believe that it rested with -me to betray my successor, but I had no desire so to do. My mind was -still full of Nicette; I was angry with the woman who refused to believe -in her innocence and virtue, and who made sport of my heroic behavior. -When one has had to make such a mighty effort to do a good deed, the -person who seeks to rob us of our satisfaction therein is always -unwelcome. So that I received Mademoiselle Agathe's caress very coolly. - -At that, the young milliner took offence in her turn, although she loved -me no more than I loved her; probably she had never loved me; but in -many people self-esteem takes the place of love and, of itself alone, -gives birth to jealousy. Agathe put on her shawl, which she had laid -aside when she came in, tied her bonnet strings, and gave me a courtesy -accompanied by a smile in which she tried to cast an expression of -irony, but in which anger and vexation were clearly marked. - -"Adieu, monsieur! I understand that the events of last night must have -fatigued you; you need rest, and a little solitude; I leave you to dream -at your leisure of the brilliant conquest which will furnish you with -constant enjoyment from this time on! I beg you to be good enough to -give my address to Mademoiselle _de_ Nicette; I shall be delighted to -have her custom, in case she should think of changing her style of -dress; unless, however, you intend to take her under your protection in -that modest gown. I can understand that, to a sensitive and loving -heart, the round cap of virtue is preferable to the toque of frivolity." - -And Mademoiselle Agathe took her leave, humming: - - "'When one knows how to love and please, - What else need one desire?'" - - - - -VII - -A WORD ABOUT MYSELF - - -Agathe had been gone for a long while, and I was still in my study, -thinking of the past evening and night. Somebody opened the door of my -apartment: it was my concierge, Madame Dupont, coming to put my room to -rights, as usual. As she came in, the good soul did not fail to glance -at everything within range; and a woman will see more at a glance than -we men can see in fifteen minutes. - -Fool that I was! I had forgotten to put the couch where it belonged! -that wretched Agathe was responsible for that! But when all was said and -done, I was master in my own apartment; I could arrange my furniture as -I pleased. I was not in the habit of talking with my concierge, and -Madame Dupont knew it. Nevertheless, I noticed that she hovered about me -and tried to enter into conversation. - -"It looks as though 'twill be a lovely day; that's very lucky, seeing -it's Sunday; there are so many people who don't have any other day for -an outing!" - -"Yes," I assented, "it is very fortunate." - -"Ah! monsieur has moved his furniture, I see. Does monsieur mean to -leave this couch in his study?" - -"No; you may put it back where it belongs; I'll help you." - -"I see; monsieur has been trying an experiment?" - -"Yes, it was an experiment." - -"That's like my daughter, who's forever moving her son's cradle from one -place to another. Last night, she put it beside the bed; but my -son-in-law wouldn't have it there, because the child's nearly four years -old, and it is embarrassing for a husband and wife, when---- Why, your -bed's hardly tumbled at all, monsieur!" - -"I suppose that I didn't move much." - -"Monsieur has already breakfasted, apparently? Monsieur was hungry -earlier to-day than usual." - -I made no reply, but dressed to go out, being impatient to leave the -house. Madame Dupont stooped and picked up something, which she brought -to me with a mischievous air. - -"Here's a little cross _ la_ Jeannette, monsieur, that I just found -beside your bed." - -"Ah! give it to me, Madame Dupont, give it to me; I know what it is, I -bought it yesterday. I have got to send it to someone; it's to go into -the country, to our farmer's daughter." - -"It's a pretty little cross; but I shouldn't think it was new." - -"You don't know what you're talking about, Madame Dupont." - -And I hastily put the cross in my pocket, to hide it from the glances of -that accursed concierge, who, finding that I no longer replied to her, -talked on all alone, in order to keep the conversation alive. - -"They say the girl was very pretty, and that she was crying! That's a -strange thing." - -"What girl are you talking about?" - -"A little thing--a sort of--faith! I don't know just what she was, for I -didn't see her. To be sure, she passed my lodge, but she went by so -quick! brrr! like a bomb!" - -"Who told you anything about her?" - -"Madame Martin, Madame Bertin's cook, who saw her when she went -downstairs to get her milk." - -"Where did the girl come from?" - -"Oh!--I--they--that is--I don't know anything about it, monsieur." - -The tone in which Madame Dupont told me that she knew nothing satisfied -me that she did know a great deal. Raymond had probably tattled to -Madame Martin, and she to the concierge. And then the couch, and the -gilt cross: I had certainly become the byword of the whole house! Madame -Bertin would undoubtedly be the first one to hear about it, and Madame -Bertin was the mother of two pretty daughters, whose esteem I was most -anxious to retain. And yet it was a generous action, a sublime action -when performed by a young man, which was likely to injure me in the -opinion of many people. Ah! how untrustworthy are appearances! - -I was about to put an end to the chatter of my concierge by leaving my -lodgings, when she detained me. - -"By the way, monsieur, I beg your pardon--I quite forgot--I have -something for you." - -"What is it, pray?" - -"I had entirely forgotten it; that girl is on my brain. It's a letter." - -"A letter! who gave it to you?" - -"The postman, monsieur; he brought it last night; you'd gone out, and -when you came home it was very late and I was in bed; for I couldn't -even see you, and that's how it was that----" - -"Morbleu! Madame Dupont, give me the letter, and spare me your -reflections!" - -"Here it is, monsieur." - -I recognized the postmark and the handwriting: it was from my sister, my -dear Amlie. But that reminds me that I ought to have told you before -this who I am, where I come from, and what my business is. I confess -that it never occurred to me; indeed, I should have been quite capable -of going on to the end without giving you any further information, and -my adventures would have been none the less simple in your eyes; for as -I have not to tell of mysteries, murders, abductions, substitution of -children,--which always produces an excellent effect,--promenades in the -galleries of the West, visits to subterranean caverns, moonlight -visions, encounters in murky caves, etc., etc., I shall have nothing to -explain or disentangle for my dnouement, and shall be constrained, in -all probability, to end as simply as I began. - -"But," you will say, "it is always well to know with whom one is -dealing; in fact, it is customary to begin with that."--That is true; -but I care little about doing as others do, and, moreover, it seems to -me that these never-ending stories of births and family anecdotes are -not adapted to afford you much amusement; for that reason, I shall be -very brief. - -My name is Eugne Dorsan; I am of a Parisian family; my father was a -king's attorney [_procureur_]; they say _avou_ now, a title which lends -itself less readily to pleasantry. However, my father was a very -honorable man, so I have always been told, and I have never doubted it. -He earned a great deal of money, to his credit be it said; but he died -young, wherein he made a mistake; especially as his death was the result -of overwork. My mother was left a widow with two children: my sister -Amlie, my senior by a year, and your humble servant. Madame Dorsan was -rich; she was in a position to marry again, but she preferred to retain -her freedom; she was wise both on her own account and on ours; for, in -my opinion, marriage, while a most excellent thing, should be used in -moderation. - -My sister and I received a good education. We made the most of it, -especially my sister, who is naturally amiable, kindly, and gentle, and -whose only aim was to satisfy her teachers, and to demonstrate to her -mother her affection and her obedience. For my part, I am no phoenix, -but I have no glaring faults. My predominant passion is the love which -women arouse in me; but as that passion could not develop in my -childhood, it did not impede my progress. - -My mother had bought a beautiful country estate near Melun, and we spent -the summer there. Our childhood and youth passed away without accident -or trouble, without any important occurrences, and, I may say also, -without sorrow or tribulation. Indeed, what sources of affliction can -one encounter before the age of fifteen, when one is surrounded by -wealthy and generous kindred? - -How I pity the poor wretches reared in poverty by parents whom -misfortune often makes stern and unfeeling! Even in the days of -innocence, they know the afflictions of maturity; what a pitiable -apprenticeship to life! - -At the age of sixteen my sister married a young man of twenty-four, a -steady, orderly youth and a tremendous worker, who owned a cotton mill -at Melun. Three years after the wedding, our mother died. She had -economized in the interest of her children, and she left us ten thousand -a year each. Amlie, now Madame Dneterre, and her husband took up their -abode in our country house; and I returned to Paris, partly to seek -diversion from my grief at my mother's death, and partly to complete my -acquaintance with the world. - -Six years had passed since then, and I had become so attached to the -seductive capital that I spent only six weeks, in the summer, with my -sister. I had not yet been to her that year, and I assumed that that was -why she was writing to me. That dear sister of mine, knowing that I was -not over-virtuous, was exceedingly anxious that I should marry, in the -hope that that would put an end to my follies; and every summer I found -at her house a new young woman, very pretty and sweet and well bred, -possessed of abundant talents and attractions and a very respectable -dowry. She was presented to me without affectation, but I knew what was -in the air. But, despite the attentions of her parents, the eloquent -sermons from my sister on the joys of wedded life, and the sighs and -sidelong glances of the young lady herself, I took my leave at the end -of six weeks without making a declaration. - -"Patience!" my sister would say to her husband; "next year, I'll find -one who will turn his head, I'll wager." - -"So be it!" Dneterre would reply tranquilly; "we'll put it off till -next year." - -Now, let us read my sister's letter: - - "MY DEAR EUGNE: - - "It is the last of July, and you haven't come to see us yet; can it - be that life in Paris has made you entirely forgetful of the - relations who love you and think constantly of you and your - future?----" - -My future! Oh, yes! that means another marriage on the carpet. What a -mania it is of Amlie's! always trying to induce me to marry! It is -worse than the conventional guardian of comedy. But let us go on: - - "It seems to me that you must be tired of those numerous conquests, - of those gallant adventures, of those women who have no other guide - than pleasure, and who forget you as quickly as they adore - you.----" - -Aha! sarcasm! You are mistaken, my dear sister; I am not tired of making -conquests; those that I make are not all so simple as you think, said I -to myself. But in the provinces people are even more spiteful, more -evil-tongued than in Paris; and since my sister has left the capital, -she takes it upon herself to lecture me. But at heart she is kindness -itself! I cannot be angry with her for constantly thinking of me. But -where was I? - - "As quickly as they adore you. I often hear of you from people who - come here from Paris; I know that you are more heedless than ever, - that you think of nothing but your pleasures, that you deceive all - your mistresses, that they pay you back in your own coin.----" - -How well she divines the truth! it is astonishing! - - "We never hear of any sensible action on your part.----" - -Ah! my dear sister, if you had known the story of the night I had just -passed! And people slander me, and call me a libertine!--But you were -very, very pretty, Nicette! and I was really entitled to great credit -for my self-restraint. - - "I trust, however, that you are not incorrigible. Come to us very - soon. We have pretty women here, too; they are modest and virtuous, - and I should suppose that that would give them an additional - attraction.----" - -Oh, of course! very pretty women! stiff, affected, prudish, or -simpering! And such costumes! In a word, genuine provincials--I need -say no more. As for their virtue, it is possible that--but it is not -safe to trust to appearances, as I know better than most; for I would -have sworn that Nicette was a little wanton. - - "My husband sends a memorandum of a few errands he would like you - to do for him. He is organizing grand fishing parties for your - visit, and I look forward with delight to the prospect of embracing - you. - - "AMLIE DNETERRE." - -I determined to go to Melun--in a few days. There were several business -matters that I must first attend to. Moreover, I should be very glad to -know what Nicette was going to do; I was deeply interested in that young -woman, and I did not propose to lose sight of her. - -I left my apartment and was going downstairs; but I could not resist my -desire to speak to my neighbor Raymond. I wished to thank him for his -discretion. I rang at his door; no one answered, but I heard a noise -within. I rang again, and that time the bellrope remained in my hand. He -did not open the door. I felt sure that he had bored a hole in his door -and had seen that it was I. No matter: he could not always avoid me; -meanwhile, that he might know that it was I who had broken his bellrope, -I tied it to my own. - -I went downstairs at last; and on the first floor I met Madame Bertin -and her two daughters, going to mass. - -I bowed; they returned my bow, but with a frigid air very different from -the amiable greeting they were accustomed to bestow on me. The two young -ladies stood aside without raising their eyes, and the mother's face -wore a glacial expression that made me afraid to speak to her. - -"This is the result of the infernal chatter of Raymond and Madame Martin -and the concierge," I thought; "these ladies know that Nicette passed -the night in my rooms; that is to say, the mamma knows it, and that is -why she ordered her daughters to pass me without raising their eyes, -without smiling, and, above all, without speaking to me." - -But you will tell me, the milliner also used to pass the night in your -rooms. Ah! that was very different. Agathe was dressed like everybody -else, and nobody noticed her; moreover, there were several people in the -house for whom she made hats; and no one ever knew certainly whom she -was going to see. So that I was able to retain Madame Bertin's good -graces, and was admitted to her society, when Mademoiselle Agathe -honored me with her favors. And now I was tabooed because Nicette, the -pretty flower girl, had passed the night in my rooms. And you know how -it all came about. But the world is made that way; it judges by the -exterior before it knows what is within. Be whatever you choose, but -observe the proprieties; save appearances, and you will be received -everywhere. - -These reflections made me angry. I left the house, cursing those people -who see everything in the same light and refuse to depart from the -narrow circle that custom has marked out. I paced the streets angrily, I -dined angrily, I drank my coffee angrily, and my frame of mind had not -changed when, finding myself at the foot of the Champs-lyses, I sat -down in a chair, the back of which was against a large tree. - - - - -VIII - -THE MAGIC LANTERN - - -I had been sitting against the tree for some time; the darkness had -dispersed some of the saunterers; and those who remained plunged deeper -into the cross paths, seeking, as it seemed, by preference the darkest -and least-frequented spots. Doubtless they had their reasons for that. I -do not know precisely what I was thinking about, when I heard heavy -steps approach and stop behind me. I turned and saw a man carrying what -we call a magic lantern. He set his apparatus down against the tree; he -had not seen me, or did not notice me. He lighted his lantern to exhibit -his pictures, whereupon I at once thought of Florian's monkey; the -reminiscence made me laugh, and I prepared to listen to the owner of the -lantern, although I feared that the comparison would be unfavorable to -him. - -I heard him mutter between his teeth as he arranged his lights: - -"Ah! the hussy! the rascal! where has she been these three hours, since -she left me on the pretext of going to feed the brat? She's playing some -game on me. If it wasn't a show day, how quickly I'd drop the whole -business!--Never mind, Madame Trousquin, I'll find a way to solve my -doubts; and if I see anything crooked, there'll be a sharp and effective -reckoning!" - -The poor man was evidently jealous; he swore and stamped and glared from -side to side, but Madame Trousquin did not appear. By way of -compensation, the gleam of the magic lantern attracted a girl and a -young soldier, the latter of whom took his seat close beside the former, -bidding the showman to close the curtain around them. He enveloped them -in an old blue or gray sheet,--it was impossible to distinguish the -color,--and I could not help thinking that a magic lantern may be at -times a very great convenience. - -Pre Trousquin began his performance, interrupting himself frequently to -swear at his wife, who did not return; and I listened attentively, -although I could see nothing, not being under the curtain; but I had an -idea that the spectators for whom the pictures were being explained were -not looking at them. - -"First of all, messieurs and mesdames, you see the sun, the moon, the -stars, and the little fishes. Farther on, the products of the soil, such -as trees, vegetables, animals, caves, waterfalls, rattlesnakes. Pray -examine Monsieur Sun, whom you can't look at because he's so bright; and -Madame Moon, who is full because she's in her first quarter. See those -stars, how fast they travel, as if the devil was carrying 'em -off!--Three hours to put Fifi to bed! Ah! the slut! how I'll make her -dance to-night!--See Venus, glistening like a pinchbeck pin! See the -shepherd's star! The shepherd Tircis, I suppose, seeing what his -reputation is. And there's the Three Kings, who are always together. And -the Chariot, that travels like those you see in the mountains of Russia. -And Mercury and Jupiter. And the Virgin and the Twins. And the Bull and -the Goat. Anybody can understand about them. Do you see the Scales? Do -you see the Scorpion?--a wicked beast he is! All these, messieurs and -mesdames, are planets that determine the nervous _infections_ of the -people born under their _affluence_. The planet Venus is for wanton -women, the Shepherd for good-looking youths, the Three Kings for heroes, -the Chariot for coachmen, Jupiter for roistering blades, Mercury for -apothecaries, the Virgin for little girls, and the Goat for many worthy -gentlemen whom you know. Observe, messieurs and mesdames, in the middle -of that great black cloud, full of stars, between the Bear and the Ram, -you'll see a big, hairy comet, with a tail longer than a fox's. That -brilliant meteor has in all ages announced the end of the world; with -its tail or its head it is capable of overturning our globe, which is -held in place only by a thread, and broiling us all like chestnuts." - -At this point, a movement under the curtain led me to surmise that the -comet had aroused great curiosity. - -"One moment, messieurs and mesdames, and you'll see what you will see." - -Pre Trousquin pulled a cord to change the picture, and, after several -very emphatic oaths, resumed his explanation, not changing his voice a -quarter of a tone. - -"This, messieurs and mesdames, shows you the interior of the palace of -the great Kin-Kin-Li-King, Emperor of China and King of all the Pekins. -You perceive him seated in his beautiful gilt armchair of state, in full -ceremonial costume, surrounded by learned mandarins and national -guardsmen. He is giving a public audience and receiving petitions from -all the Chinese of the suburbs. Observe, in a corner, that father -leaning on his daughter and a bamboo stick; he has come to demand -justice upon a seducer who has made that poor innocent creature the -mother of five little children, and who feeds them on blows alone. See, -messieurs, how the ill-fated father's features gleam with wrath and -indignation; read the sorrow, pain, and repentance in the girl's eyes. -That man just to the left, wrapped in a brown cloak, with only his nose -visible, is the seducer, awaiting his condemnation. See how pale and -cadaverous his face is, how hollow his eyes, and how tremulous his gait; -well he knows that he will not be let off cheap. Farther on, in the -background----" - -A stout female appeared at this juncture, panting for breath, and -interrupted the explanation of the picture. I presumed that it was -Madame Trousquin, and the dialogue that ensued between her and the owner -of the lantern proved to me that my conjecture was well founded. - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -Ah! here you are at last, you cursed street walker!--Farther away, in -the background--(_To his wife._) You'll pay me for this, that's all I've -got to say to you!--Farther away, in the background, that wretched -creature whom the guards are taking away, and who is struggling and -writhing as if he had the colic, is a deserter, who has just deserted -and was going to the enemy's camp on treason bent; his business will -soon be settled; he'll be shot and then hung. - - -MADAME TROUSQUIN. (_during her husband's explanation_). - -Hoity-toity! what are you making so much noise about? Didn't I have to -put Fifi to bed and make the soup? And I'd like to know if it ain't a -good, long walk from the Champs-lyses to Rue Jean-Pain-Mollet! - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -You lie, I tell you; you went off at five o'clock, and here it is nine. -Where in the devil have you been? Pull the cord. - -Madame Trousquin placed on a stool a bowl which she had under her apron, -then assumed her post on that side of the lantern from which the change -of pictures was operated. - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -This, messieurs and mesdames, represents a view of Athens, in -Greece.--(_To his wife._) Put my soup on the charcoal and tell me where -you've been. - - -MADAME TROUSQUIN. - -Why, I've been at home, I tell you, you jealous fool! I met Anglique -and talked with her a minute. Have you much of an audience? - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -Observe the beauty of the sky and water. Observe the palaces, the -columns and temples, built by the Romans; note those magnificent -statues, of which but few fragments remain. See that circus, in which -they used to hold bull fights, to train the young men to be -strong.--(_To his wife._) I'm satisfied that you've been gallivanting -with Grugeon.--See, in the distance, the famous Partiates fighting with -their fists like Englishmen, and playing the game of Siam with a large -roulette table.--(_To his wife._) He asked you to take a glass of beer -in a private room.--That handsome young man you see at the right is -Alcibiades, with Socrates, his teacher, who is teaching him things he -don't know. - -While I listened I saw the curtain move more violently, and I heard the -girl say in an undertone: - -"Oh! how stupid! Ah! how stupid! I tell you I won't!" - -Pre Trousquin motioned to his wife to pull the cord, and resumed his -harangue. - -"This, messieurs and mesdames, is taken from mythology; it is the -magnificent Judgment of Solomon, called the Wise, who is preparing to -carve a little child, exactly as if it was a pie. Observe the -consternation of the little one as he awaits his fate, with his legs in -the air; observe the fiendish glee of that shrewish stepmother, who -looks on, dry-eyed, as if someone was going to give her a slice of -rabbit; but observe the grief of the real mother, who seeks to turn -aside the cleaver which already threatens the innocent child's navel." - - -THE YOUNG WOMAN (_under the curtain_). - -Ah! the villain! ah! the villain! he keeps right on. What a stupid! - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -Don't be alarmed, there won't be any cutting done; nature is about to -speak.--(_To his wife._) Give me my soup; I'm hungry.--The mighty -Solomon, looking at the two mothers with Argus eyes, says to -himself--(_To his wife._) In God's name, why don't you get through with -the onions?--"This child cannot have two mothers; if it was two fathers, -that might be, such things have been seen."--(_To his wife._) You know -something about that.--"Now, there's a snake in the grass here; the real -mother's affection manifests itself by a deluge of tears; but this other -vixen of a mother, who's as placid as Baptiste,"--(_To his wife._) It -smells as if it was burned.--"has no maternal entrails; so the case is -decided!"--Pull the cord.--"This, messieurs and mesdames, represents -King David doing battle with the giant Goliath, the terror of the -Philistines."--(_To his wife._) Why don't you look and see if it's -right?--See with what force David hurls the stone that lays the giant in -the dust. - - -MADAME TROUSQUIN. (_looking over the lantern_). - -This ain't the one; you're showing 'em the Battle of Marengo now. - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN.MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -As I was saying, messieurs and mesdames, you see the famous Battle of -Marengo, won by the French troops.--(_To his wife._) You always put in -too many carrots. - - -MADAME TROUSQUIN. - -You don't say! you want to choose your vegetables, do you? You're -getting to be very particular. How much have you made to-day? - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -Eighteen sous.--Note the gunners and the cuirassiers; see how the sabres -play, while the cannonballs meet in mid air and the shells spread fire -and blood on all sides; see the hussars, the dragoons, the trumpets, and -the drums! hear the shrieks of the dead and dying, the moans of the -wounded and vanquished. See that young soldier on the right, defending -his flag with his teeth, because both his arms have been cut off; and at -the left, that officer who has three dead horses upon him, and who -forgets that he is suffocating while he takes aim at the enemy's -general. See the dust, the flame, the smoke, the carnage, and the -corpses that embellish the picture. The action is superb, you see; the -battle waxes hotter and more furious---- - -At this point, the explanation was interrupted by an unforeseen -catastrophe: the young woman and the soldier, who were evidently taking -the liveliest interest in the battle,--for I kept hearing exclamations -from the damsel and energetic monosyllables from her companion,--not -content with moving the curtain, threw themselves violently against the -magic lantern, at the most critical point of the Battle of Marengo. The -shock was so violent that the ambulatory theatre could not sustain it; -it fell backward, and the spectators fell upon it, while the manager of -the establishment was thrown to the ground with his bowl of soup, and -Madame Trousquin was entangled by the cords that she held in each hand. - -I was left standing alone in the midst of the devastation, for my great -tree preserved me from all peril. What a grotesque picture was presented -to my eyes! Solomon and the great Kin-Kin-Li-King were lying in a heap -with the gardens of the Luxembourg and of Athens; the sun no longer -shone, the moon was covered with oil, the comet shorn of its tail. Pre -Trousquin was struggling under his broken lantern, still holding in his -hand the handle of his bowl; and the young woman had fallen in a posture -that disclosed beauty which would have put to shame the most perfect -moon that ever graced a magic lantern. The young soldier's head was in -Pre Trousquin's bowl; his face was covered by carrots and onions; he -seemed to be caught in such a way that he could not extricate himself -from the trap. As for Mre Trousquin, she had fallen gracefully; her -cords had held her up, and the curtain of the lantern concealed what -might have caused her modesty to blush. However, as those who are least -hurt always make the most noise, Madame Trousquin's shrieks were simply -deafening; her husband uttered the most frightful oaths, and the young -woman groaned plaintively. The soldier alone made no outcry; I believe -that he found the soup and vegetables to his liking. All the idlers in -the neighborhood were attracted to the broken lantern by the uproar, the -shrieks and oaths; and I was surrounded in an instant by a crowd of -people who came from I don't know where; for a moment before I could not -see a soul on the Champs-lyses. My retreat was cut off; I could not -make my way out of the crowd; but I was not sorry to see how it would -end. After shouting and swearing to their heart's content, the -unfortunates tried to extricate themselves from the tangle they were in: -the soldier succeeded in uncovering his face, the girl rose and arranged -her skirts. Mre Trousquin disentangled herself from her cords, the -magic lantern was lifted from the ground, and Pre Trousquin struggled -to his feet. The soldier tried to slink away with his companion; but he -could not elude the owner of the lantern, who insisted that he should -pay for the damages. - -"My glasses are smashed," said Pre Trousquin; "you've spoiled my sun -and moon, you've broken my Judgment of Solomon and my Chinese palace, -and ruined my views of Greece; you've got to pay me for all that." - -"Go to the devil!" said the soldier, repairing the disorder of his -costume as best he could. "I won't pay you for anything at all. What do -I care for your Chinese and your Solomon! your sun and moon look just -like the night lights you buy for a sou; and as for your fat, just put -it in your lamps." - -"You broke my lantern, and you've got to pay me for it." - -"You're an old drunkard; if your lantern wasn't firm on its legs, it's -no fault of mine." - -"You tumbled against it during the Battle of Marengo." - -"You threw it over, yourself, trying to imitate cannon." - -"You made me break my bowl." - -"You're responsible for my tearing my breeches." - -"Besides, my lantern is a moral and respectable show, and I don't -propose to have it used for----" - -"I say! stop that, or I'll cut out your tongue!" - -The soldier put his hand to his sword; the crowd instantly made a -backward movement, the girl clung to her friend's arm, and Mre -Trousquin pulled her husband out of range, taking the stool for a -buckler. The two adversaries measured each other with their eyes for -several minutes, without moving. The soldier gave no sign of paying, and -Pre Trousquin did not seem to be in a mood to let him go away until he -had remunerated him for his losses. Thereupon I concluded that there was -but one way to adjust the affair without bloodshed. The magic lantern -episode had amused me, and had entirely dispelled my ill humor; it was -no more than fair that I should act as mediator in the dispute. I alone -had remained near the combatants; for the bystanders held themselves -respectfully aloof from the sword and the stool. I felt in my pocket and -took out two five-franc pieces, which I tossed upon the damaged lantern. - -"There," said I to the proprietor, "is the means to restore your palaces -and your planets; but take my advice, and another time don't fasten your -curtain so closely round your audience. Children's theatres are -frequented now by people of all ages; if you don't believe me, ask -Sraphin, who receives _petite-matresses_ at his show, because of the -darkness in the hall during his arabesque fires." - -Pre Trousquin stared with all his eyes; his wife pounced on the two -coins, and the soldier was allowed to go his way with his companion; -which he did not do without bowing to me most respectfully. - -I too walked away, and turned into Rue de Rivoli. I looked at my watch; -it was only nine o'clock, and I have never been fond of going to bed -early, especially when I am in the mood for amusing myself. As the scene -of the magic lantern had put me in that mood, I determined to encourage -such a desirable disposition. - -How was I to amuse myself? There are thousands of ways in Paris, you -will say; but, in the matter of pleasure, you must never promise -yourself too much, if you wish to have a little. In a large assembly, -for six agreeable people you will find twenty bores; in a small party, -your friends may have business affairs that annoy them; the ladies, sick -headaches or the vapors; and you often pass a very dull hour where you -looked forward to much entertainment. The wisest plan, therefore, is not -to count upon anything. But I remembered that there was a grand fte at -Tivoli. It was nine o'clock; if I took a cab, I should arrive just at -the height of the evening. - - - - -IX - -TIVOLI - - -A lovely spot, that Tivoli Garden! When I stepped within its gates, it -seemed to me that I entered one of those enchanted sojourns so -splendidly described in the _Thousand and One Nights_. The music, the -illuminations, the sports of all sorts, the fireworks--everything -combined to dazzle the eyes and excite the imagination. What a pity it -seemed when a vulgar face and a fishwoman's costume marred the beauty of -the picture and reminded me that I was in a public garden, where any -decently dressed person could enter on payment of three francs twelve -sous! - -Before I had taken twenty steps in the garden, I had seen many things. -What beautiful avenues! How those garlands of fire burst on the sight! -Yonder, people gathered in crowds, gazed at one another, scrutinized -costumes, and sought acquaintances: it was the Boulevard de Gand of -Tivoli. Farther on, the lights became less frequent; an occasional lamp -guided your steps without betraying you. The couples were more widely -scattered; they no longer went about to exhibit themselves; some, -indeed, seemed to try to evade observation, to desire darkness and -mystery. Happy thickets! how often have you sheltered love and pleasure! -how many kisses have been given and received under cover of your dense -foliage! Ah! if you could speak!--But I seemed to hear voices close at -hand; I had thoughtlessly turned my steps in the direction of those -solitary thickets, where I, being alone, had nothing to hope for. As I -circled a clump of shrubs, I saw something white on the grass; a -gentleman and a lady were there, discussing some very weighty and secret -matter no doubt, for I thought that they were whispering to each other. -But my presence disturbed them; the lady, with a little shriek, pushed -her companion away; whereupon I walked quickly in another direction. -What pleasure can there be in interfering with that of other people? - -I determined to go back to the crowd, to leave those thickets, where it -almost angered me to be alone. Once more I was in the bright light. I -heard the rumbling of cars; I was near the mountains which all the women -ascend--the _grande dame_ and the working girl, the milliner and the -modest laundress, the kept woman and the little schoolgirl. What delight -they all seem to take in the descent! And yet, the resistance of the air -disarranges their hair, loosens their hats, and blows their curls all -about; but they submit to that sacrifice for the pleasure of going like -the wind for twenty seconds. Keen enjoyment is depicted on all the faces -in the cars; only an occasional Englishman retains his gravity during -the trip. - -I was alone, so I did not make the ascent; it seemed to me that to enjoy -that pastime you must be seated beside a woman whom you like; then you -may put your arm about a slender waist and press a shapely figure; as -you fly down the incline, you may venture much; for you are sure of not -being repulsed, your companion being so bewildered by the rapidity of -the descent that she has not time to be angry. - -All pleasures turn to the advantage of love. What pleasure is not -increased twofold by the presence of the loved one? In the dance, on the -cars, under the thickets, there must be two to be happy; without a -woman, how can one abandon one's self to the most delicious sensations, -the most loving outpourings of the heart? Only through her do we know -that we have a heart. But enough of these ideas, to which the garden -gave rise! I walked across several squares, attracted by music; it was a -singer. Ah! I did not stop there; if I had, Tivoli would have ceased to -be a place of enchantment. - -Suddenly my eyes fell upon a number of armchairs swinging in the air and -travelling round and round, with ladies seated in them; it was a Russian -swing. Why did all the men walk in that direction and stand, with their -noses in the air and a smile on their faces, watching the chairs turn? -Ah! I saw that the wind lifted the ladies' skirts more or less, so that -one could catch a glimpse of a leg and sometimes of a knee. The game -seemed to amuse the performers as much as the spectators. The ladies -apparently did not realize what it was that absorbed the attention of -the gentlemen, and did not hear the wanton jests in which most of the -latter indulged; for they continued to fly through the air, laughing -like madcaps. But the machine stopped; it was time to alight. I -remained, in order to see the ladies at closer quarters. Mon Dieu! -messieurs, you surely did not need to give yourselves a crick in the -neck to catch a glimpse of an ankle! So far as I could judge, you might -have obtained a sight of a great deal more, without much trouble. I -quitted the Russian swing for Bobche's performance, and found an -enormous crowd in front of the stage. I looked about in vain for a -chair; I could not find one that was unoccupied. So I was compelled to -remain standing. I sidled in among the elect, and I saw something, at -all events, even if I did not see Bobche; I saw the evident enjoyment -of all the young men who, like myself, were standing. And yet they could -not see anything; but they were with ladies who stood on chairs, and -they supported them, to guard against accident; their arms were passed -around the ladies' skirts, and the ladies leaned on their shoulders. I -could understand how pleasant that must be. But I saw one lady who -seemed on the point of falling. Why did nobody support her? Because she -was a matron. But a becurled and befrizzled young woman, who would have -been pretty had not her costume been so absurd for a public garden, -hurried to the elderly lady's side. - -"Wait, mamma," she said; "I'll put my chair behind yours, and then you -can lean on me; I'll hold you up." - -The mother consented to this arrangement, and the young woman remounted -her chair, which she placed behind her mamma's; but I noticed that she -had somebody to support her; a tall, light-haired youngster kept his -eyes on her all the time; he stationed himself close beside her, looked -at her, and made signs to her. The young woman looked at nothing but -Bobche; and as she explained the performance to her mother, she took a -little note from her glove and dropped it into the young man's hand, -without the slightest confusion or affectation, and without interrupting -her conversation. Really, our young ladies display a fascinating grace -in all that they do; the world is progressing toward perfection. - -The tall youth crumpled the note in his hand; he longed to read it at -once, but he dared not. I was amused by his impatience; I was curious -to see what he would do. But an elderly couple arrived, dragging their -chairs after them; the woman planted herself directly in front of me, -almost resting against my face, while her husband deprived me of what -little view I had by standing beside her. - -I could endure it no longer; to induce me to remain with my head on a -level with the waists of all that multitude, I felt that something -deeply interesting was necessary. I was not at all desirous to maintain -my juxtaposition to the enormous circumference which obscured my vision. -So I extricated myself, not without difficulty, from the chairs and legs -and dresses that surrounded me. When I was outside the circle, I stopped -to breathe a bit; it is good to inhale the fresh air when one has seen -Bobche, even out of doors. - -I followed a noble avenue of lindens which led to the large tract of -grass set aside for swings and seesaws and blind-man's-buff and the -Egyptian bird, and a thousand other things, of which the prettiest are -those one does not see. I heard ladies' voices imploring their escorts -not to go so fast; while the latter, to display their strength and -skill, made all the play they could with their loins and knees, at the -risk of making their companions in the swings swoon from fright: that -was a new way to make one's self agreeable, I thought. - -I heard the voice of lamentation near by. It was a small boy of twelve -or thirteen years, who wanted to seesaw with a tall lout of eighteen at -least. No sooner had the latter gone to the ground on his end of the -plank which served as a tilt, than the little fellow at the other end -received a violent shock that threw him over the little iron bar behind -which stood those awaiting their turn. The poor child fell; luckily, it -was on the soft turf, and he was not hurt; but he limped away, while the -tall zany plumed himself on the shaking-up he had given him. A very -pretty game is this seesawing; but I should advise those who indulge in -it to have the ground mattressed; for I know by experience that falls -are frequent and dangerous. - -But what was that report? It brought me involuntarily to a standstill. -Was I near a display of fireworks? No; the Egyptian bird had just been -set off. How proud the man seemed who had done the trick! To be sure, it -was only the eleventh time that he had fired. A stout party seized the -wire. I recognized him: it was Raymond. I should have been astonished -not to fall in with him, for the fellow was everywhere. - -"I'll bet," he said in a bantering tone to the man who had just fired, -taking pains to raise his voice in order to attract attention, "I'll -bet, my dear fellow [he knows everybody], that I release the spring in -three shots." - -"I'll bet you don't; it isn't so easy as you seem to think." - -"Easy! easy! if it was easy, there'd be no merit in it. I have an -absolutely accurate eye. Come, I'll bet you an ice." - -"That you do it in three trials?" - -"Yes; in fact, I'm certain that I shan't have to try three times." - -"I'll take your bet." - -"All right; now you'll see." - -I halted, feeling perfectly certain, for my part, that my neighbor would -make a fool of himself in some way. The man who managed the machine was -reloading the iron box to which the spring was attached. - -"Get out of the way!" cried Raymond, impatient to display his skill, and -raising the bird as high in the air as his arms allowed. - -The box was closed and the man stepped aside; Raymond threw the bird -with such accuracy that the piece of iron, after following a zigzag -course, struck six inches from the target. My neighbor was not -discouraged, but threw the bird again--with no better success. - -"It's all out of equilibrium," he cried; "the wire's crooked, it isn't -my fault." - -"This is your last shot." - -"Oh! this one will do the business." - -Raymond took aim for at least three minutes; at last the bird flew -through the air. It finished its flight; but there was no report. - -"I've won! I've won!" cried Raymond's adversary; "you owe me an ice." - -"Oh! I don't know whether you've won or not; that depends. I am sure -that the bird's beak moved the spring, and the reason it didn't go off -must be that the powder's damp." - -"You're trying to crawl out of it! you've lost, and you owe me an ice!" - -"Well! I demand my revenge!" - -"Oh! that's fair enough; I agree. That will make two ices instead of -one." - -"We'll see about that. I say, my man, just go and overhaul the spring; -I'm sure there's something out of order that prevented the thing from -going off." - -To please his customer, the man opened the box and examined it. -Meanwhile, my neighbor had taken the bird; and, annoyed at having lost -his first bet, he scrutinized the iron beak, measured it with his eye, -and tried to make sure that the bird was perfectly balanced, lifting it -carefully by the two wings. - -"I see what the matter is, I see what it is," he said confidently; "if I -had examined it like this before, I shouldn't have missed a shot. You -must hold the bird very lightly, with the tips of your fingers, and -throw it without any jerk." - -As he spoke, Monsieur Raymond threw the bird, which struck the head of -the unfortunate man who was looking to see if the spring was in perfect -order. The poor man was seriously wounded; he fell to the ground with -horrible yells, and everybody ran toward him. Monsieur Raymond took -advantage of the confusion to escape. He forced a passage through the -crowd, pushing everybody aside with his arms and elbows; he leaped over -chairs, ran like a madman through the groups seated on the grass, -tripped over the legs of a _petite-matresse_ who was chatting -unconcernedly with a young officer, fell heavily upon her, and with his -stomach crushed a bust that luckily was made of tulle. The lady -shrieked, in order to make people think that it was her flesh that was -flattened out; and the officer sprang to his feet, in a rage at the -disappearance of charms which he had believed to be genuine. He seized a -chair and pursued Raymond, who was already far away; for fear lent him -wings. - -I amused myself by following my neighbor, who had lost his hat in the -scuffle. I saw him running on and getting into fresh difficulty every -minute; he ran into a swing, collided with the wooden horses, overturned -two girls who were dancing in a little open space, knocked over all the -tubs of shrubs that came in his way, and finally, to elude his pursuers, -rushed out into the main avenue, hoping to lose himself in the crowd. -But as he passed under a garland of colored lanterns, which was not far -enough from the ground and hung down a little at the sides, Monsieur -Raymond, trying to outstrip everybody, became entangled in the -illuminations; the rope broke, and all the little colored lanterns fell -on the promenaders, who, in an instant, were smeared with oil. The -ladies uttered heartrending shrieks when they saw their toques, their -feathers, and their gowns dripping with lamp oil; nor were the young men -less enraged, for their coats and waistcoats and frills were all ruined, -and diffused an execrable odor. Once more Raymond found himself the -object of general animadversion, and the poor devil, panting for breath, -was obliged to continue his flight. He leaped over a hedge, in order to -get away from the avenue more quickly; he did not know where to go; and -he finally entered the enclosure set apart for the fireworks, despite -the shouts of an old pensioner who told him that he could not go there. -He rushed through the bombs, mortars, rockets, pinwheels, and Roman -candles, while the pensioner shouted for the gendarmes to come to arrest -a man who was smashing everything he saw and seemed determined to -prevent the pyrotechnic display that was in preparation. The police -arrived; Raymond had barely time to hurl himself through a transparency, -which he burst with his head; at last he disappeared. Tranquillity was -restored; the damage that my neighbor had done was repaired as far as -possible; and I returned toward the centre of activity, laughing at -Raymond's mishaps, which had afforded me abundant satisfaction for his -petty mischief-making that morning. - -"Faith!" I said to myself, as I walked toward the dancing enclosure; "if -I had come to Tivoli for no other purpose than to witness Raymond's -prowess, my evening would have been a great success. But I am in a lucky -vein; perhaps fate has other meetings in store for me." - -I paused near a juggler's booth; the crowd was as large as in front of -Bobche's; but there was somewhat less confusion. Most of the spectators -were seated, and I succeeded, although I was in the last row, in seeing -a part of what was going on; the man did tricks with cards, stole rings, -and changed a glass of wine into a bouquet. All this delighted the -audience, who made no attempt to detect his confederates, and pretended -not to see the preparations which are essential for tricks performed -_without preparation_. - -"He's a magician!" said a little man, opening his eyes to their fullest -extent and looking stupidly about him. "Faith! I can't understand it, -can you, wife?" - -"Oh! I want to see for myself," replied the little man's better half; -and she motioned to the juggler that she wanted to draw a card. He -approached, chattering in Italian, German, and English, the result being -an utterly incomprehensible jargon which completely enchanted the -audience. - -The lady drew an eight of spades, which she then replaced in the pack -and shuffled the cards; but our magician was certain of guessing the -card, because the pack he offered her contained eights of spades and -nothing else; and while he bewildered his hearers by his constant -jabbering, he slipped his hand behind the little man, who, when another -trick was being performed, was suddenly requested to rise, and was -stupefied to find under him the card that his wife had drawn. - -I walked away from the sleight-of-hand booth; but, happening to put my -hand in my pocket, I failed to find my handkerchief. That trick was -better than any of the juggler's; it had been done very adroitly; -luckily, I was not wearing my watch seal. - -Behold me at last before the enclosure consecrated to the dance. But it -was no longer good form to dance in the public gardens; only at village -ftes did our young Parisian exquisites condescend to execute a balance -and a ladies' chain in the open air. Here, none but hucksters, petty -bourgeoises, and grisettes dare to abandon themselves to the joys of the -dance; they know nothing of conventions, of good form; they want to -enjoy themselves, and they are so happy when dancing! their pleasure is -depicted on their faces! they hop and skip with such hearty good will! -By the faces of the fair damsels who were watching the dancers I could -see that good form is sometimes very ill-humored; but they avenged -themselves by criticising those who defied convention. They sneered and -laughed at the others, and made unkind remarks; good form and propriety -never forbid that. They ridiculed everything that they could not do; -they spoke slightingly of what in their hearts they loved: it was the -fable of the fox and the grapes again. - -But the spectators were most numerous around one particular quadrille; -the dancers were surrounded by a triple row. I was certain that there -must be some unusually pretty face there, or some particularly absurd -costume. I approached and succeeded in forcing my way to the front. I -looked at one of the dancers: she had an insignificant face and a -commonplace dress; she could not be the object of such universal -curiosity. - -"She is mighty pretty." - -"Oh! you wait till you see how gracefully she dances!" - -These remarks were made by two young men who stood near me. Thereupon I -glanced over the different performers in the quadrille, and my eyes soon -rested on a young woman wearing a little cap with a bunch of roses on -it. - -I admired the young woman's piquant face; her eyes were animated by the -excitement of dancing; her enjoyment made her bosom rise and fall more -rapidly, and the flattering murmur that arose on all sides brought a -vivid flush to her cheeks. What woman is insensible to praise? Did you -ever meet one who was, reader? If so, I advise you to register her name -on your tablets. - -But, as I scrutinized the pretty dancer, a sudden reminiscence flashed -through my mind: those features, that figure, the bunch of roses, and -the plan of coming to Tivoli. Unquestionably it was Mademoiselle -Caroline; it was my little flowermaker of the preceding evening. -Thoughtless fool that I was! I had forgotten her, and had been strolling -about the garden without trying to find her! But since chance had -brought me into her presence, I determined to make the most of it, and, -good form or not, to try to obtain a dance with her, so that I might -speak with her. - -But suppose that anybody who knew me should see me dancing at Tivoli! I -felt brave enough to defy the criticism and mockery of the young men and -the pleasantry of the ladies; and as I contemplated Caroline's seductive -features, I said to myself, with Rousseau: "I must be happy! 'tis man's -first need!"--Now, to be happy, it was necessary first of all that I -should dance with Caroline. - - - - -X - -THE FIREWORKS.--THE FORTUNE TELLER.--THE SILHOUETTE STUDIO - - -The contradance came to an end, and the men escorted their partners to -their seats. I followed my little flowermaker with my eyes, and saw her -take her seat beside a plainly dressed old woman, evidently her aunt. -Her partner remained by her side; he was the Jules of the preceding -evening. In due time, another girl came up with her partner and sat -beside Caroline; this completed the party, which, as I remembered, was -to consist of four persons. - -I walked back and forth in the neighborhood of Mademoiselle Caroline and -her friends for a long while; I passed before the group and stared at -the pretty creature; but she paid no attention to me. I saw that I must -make up my mind to invite her to dance, but I had difficulty in doing -it; for I felt that I should look like a petty shop-clerk who was in the -habit of going to Tivoli to dance on Sundays. While I was making these -reflections, the orchestra played the prelude; that decided me, and I -walked toward the young women. But just as I was on the point of -delivering my invitation, the pretty flowermaker rose and gave her hand -to a young man, who had got the start of me, and who led her out to -dance. I had arrived too late; so much for listening to my absurd -self-esteem! However, I swore that I would not be behindhand for the -next contradance; and for fear of being defrauded again, I hastened to -the quadrille in which Mademoiselle Caroline was performing, and then -and there engaged her for the next one. She accepted, and I was -overjoyed; I stood near her, mingling my words of praise with those of -several other young men; and while her partner was executing the _avant -deux_, I complimented her on her bunch of roses and apologized for my -awkwardness of the previous evening. At that, she looked up at me and -smiled, and took more notice of me; I had reason to believe that her -scrutiny did not result to my disadvantage. From time to time, I -ventured a word or two to the effect that I had come to Tivoli solely in -the hope of meeting her; she did not reply, but I saw that she listened; -if she were ever so little of a coquette, I felt sure of making my way! -And she was, she must be; for all women are. The dance at an end, I -impatiently awaited the following one, when I should be able to talk -with Caroline, and it would be easy for me to find out how far I might -hope. In the briefest interview I can generally tell what manner of -person I have to do with, and I rarely make a mistake; not that I -believe all that they say to me, but I divine how much hope they are -willing to give me. Women, being more expansive than men, have a certain -_laisser aller_ which says a great deal to one who is accustomed to deal -with them. When they have wit, a mere hint discloses it; when they have -nothing but jargon, they murder you with it; when they have nothing to -say, there is no possibility of mistake. Montaigne said: "Style makes -the man;" I think that he might well have said also: "Conversation makes -the woman;" but I beg his pardon for presuming to express my opinion in -conjunction with his. - -Mademoiselle Caroline was escorted to her seat. While waiting for the -next contradance, which would furnish me with the means of judging her -more accurately, I strolled through the thickets that surrounded the -dancing enclosure. I preferred not to remain like a noodle beside the -little flowermaker, nor to parade up and down in front of her. But the -moment drew near when I might hope to squeeze her tiny fingers and press -her hand tenderly in mine. Give me the dance for lovers! you can boldly -reveal your secret sentiments, you can declare them without speaking a -word. I am inclined to think that that is why the young women have so -great a fondness for that exercise and enjoy themselves so heartily at -balls. How many avowals have been made and reciprocated while forming a -ladies' chain or a trenise! and despite their active surveillance, their -mammas are powerless to prevent that. - -But the time passed; I strolled back toward my partner. Mon Dieu! what a -noise! what an uproar! what confusion in the garden! The first bomb had -just been fired, and everybody was running toward the great central -square, dragging their chairs, or carrying them in their arms. - -"The fireworks! the fireworks!" people shouted on all sides. - -What a rush! In heaven's name, had they never seen fireworks before in -their lives? How they pushed and jostled and fought, to pass one -another! What a hurly-burly! But what had become of Caroline? I hurried -to the dancing enclosure--it was deserted; everybody had abandoned it -for the fireworks. Where my pretty grisette had been sitting, I saw two -men fighting for a chair, pulling it in opposite directions; each of -them finally carried away half, which must have been exceedingly -useful. I was not in luck with Mademoiselle Caroline; she disappeared at -the moment that I was going to join her. However, I did not lose all -hope; I assumed that she had gone to see the fireworks, and I determined -to try to find her there. - -I walked in the direction that the crowd had taken; but at the sight of -that moving mass, one half of which concealed the other,--for some had -climbed upon the chairs, while others clung to the frames,--I felt that -it would be absurd to look for anyone there. So I resigned myself to -wait until the display was over; perhaps the dancing would be renewed -then, and I should see her again. Meanwhile, I walked around the -outskirts of the crowd, and saw almost as much of the fireworks as those -who stood on their chairs. I also observed several couples, who, instead -of joining the crowd, went in the opposite direction and concealed -themselves in the obscure shrubbery; they evidently had not come to -Tivoli for the fireworks; but I am convinced, none the less, that they -had been waiting impatiently for them to begin, and that the display -would afford them as much pleasure as those who waited for it with their -noses in the air. - -There was a set piece representing Ixion crushed by the thunderbolts of -Jupiter; and I heard a gentleman explaining it to his family, while he -supported his wife and held up his little girl, who shrieked at every -explosion. - -"Who's that tall man in a red cloak riding horseback on a bird?" -inquired the child. - -"That's Jupiter, my dear, on a bird-of-paradise." - -"And what's that stick he's shaking in his hand?" - -"That's his thunderbolt to whip men who aren't good." - -"Oh! yes; like my school teacher's switch." - -"Who was this Ixion, my dear?" queried his better half. - -"A Roman, I believe. Wait and let me think. Oh, yes! he's the one that -wanted to drive Jupiter's chariot. He'll be struck by lightning, as -you'll see." - -"What does that mean, my dear?" - -"That means that he'll be thrown into that big hole, which is hell, and -once there----" - -"Oh, yes! I understand; then he'll be struck by lightning; quite right, -too." - -"Oh! oh! oh! I'm afraid!" cried a little boy, who had hidden under the -chairs. - -"Hush, Octave! if you squirm so, you'll make us fall. I won't bring you -to Tivoli again; you're too big a coward. For shame! a big boy, nine -years old, who plays with my national guardsman's cap all day long, and -don't dare to look at a rocket!" - -At that moment a mortar burst with a great noise, and Octave gave a leap -which overturned his mother's chair; she fell, dragging with her her -husband and daughter, the latter of whom tried to save herself by -clinging to a gentleman's coat; which coat, being decidedly old, could -not stand the strain; the skirt remained in the child's hand, and the -owner began to shout _thief_! thinking that somebody had stolen his -handkerchief, and unable to find even his pocket. At the same instant -there was a more deafening and more prolonged report; innumerable bursts -of flame darted in all directions, twisting and writhing like serpents, -dazzling the eye and filling the garden momentarily with a magical, -supernatural brilliancy, as if the whole expanse were on fire; but the -noise, the glare, and the false daylight lasted but a moment; a few -rocket sticks, cartridges, and the dbris of bombs fell in the garden, -and in many instances upon the sightseers, spreading terror and -confusion among them. I saw one lady whose hat was burned, another whose -shawl was riddled with little holes made by the sparks from a rocket; -and it seemed to me that that was paying rather dear for the pleasure of -witnessing a display of fireworks. I turned away, well pleased not to -have received a splash from the pyrotechnic drama, but greatly surprised -that I had not seen my neighbor Raymond in some transparency; for, -having lost sight of him among the preparations for the display, I -expected to see him appear during the final discharge. - -I returned to the dancing enclosure. My invited partner was not there; I -was compelled, therefore, to abandon all hope of finding Caroline. I -watched the throng of honest bourgeois, who, as soon as the last of the -fireworks was discharged, set off for their firesides, content with -their evening's enjoyment, which was to last them throughout the week. I -strolled at random along the avenues, where the colored lanterns were -beginning to flicker and grow dim. Suddenly I heard a little bell, and, -although the hearty laughter of some young people near by, the -whispering of the ladies, and the distant sound of the dance dispelled -all possible illusion touching the reality of the hermitage, I went up -none the less to the abode of the so-called sorcerer, who, with the -assistance of a long beard, a wand, a pointed hat, a gray frock, and a -horn three feet long, undertook to tell fortunes at a very moderate -price. - -Young girls have always had a great fondness for having their fortunes -told. Those who are inexperienced are consumed with the longing to know -whether a handsome dark young man or a pretty blond will come soon to -tell them something; those who are not novices are anxious to be -informed as to the fidelity of their lovers, and at the same time to -know whether other men are in love with them; the pretty ones know that -they will make conquests, the ill-favored delude themselves concerning -their charms; desire arouses hope in all, and all are content. I was -agreeably surprised to see my young flowermaker awaiting her turn to -have her fortune told. I walked toward her; she saw me and blushed; that -was a good sign. But her aunt and Monsieur Jules were close by; I could -not speak to her. An idea came into my mind while the soothsayer was -finishing his sance with the young woman who was with Caroline. I took -out my tablets,--a forehanded man always carries them,--withdrew to a -lamp post, and with a lead pencil scrawled a most passionate and -appealing declaration, which was utterly devoid of sense, but would -flatter the girl, I felt sure. - -Then I rejoined the curious onlookers, taking care to get close to the -soothsayer. Caroline had taken her friend's place, and the magic horn -was already applied to her ear, when I pulled the sorcerer's frock; I -pointed to my note, on which I had laid a five-franc piece. He put out -his hand and grasped it; those fellows readily understand one's meaning. -All this was done without attracting the attention of the bystanders. -Mademoiselle Caroline was told a thousand pleasant things, no doubt, for -she laughed like a madwoman; at times she seemed perturbed and -surprised, and glanced furtively at me. I was sure that the soothsayer -was talking about me; that knave knew his business; I heartily commend -him to the sex. At last he took the girl's hand and handed her her -horoscope, slipping my note into her hand at the same time, and bidding -her to postpone reading it until she went to bed. It seemed to me that -Mademoiselle Caroline understood, for she thrust the paper into her -bosom before joining her aunt. - -At last she went away with her whole party, and I did not follow her. I -had an idea that my hermit could tell me all that I wanted to know; for -he had spoken to her in an undertone, and she had replied many times by -the medium of the horn. - -My man came to me and led me into his hermitage, where he dashed into -the subject at once, without waiting for me to question him. - -"Her name's Caroline." - -"I know it." - -"She makes flowers." - -"I know that too." - -"She's eighteen years old." - -"So I should think." - -"She hasn't any lover." - -"So I hoped." - -"She means to remain virtuous." - -"I doubt it." - -"She has noticed you." - -"I think it likely." - -"She is attracted to you." - -"I am glad to hear it." - -"She works on Rue Sainte-Apolline, from eight in the morning till eight -in the evening." - -"That is all I want to know." - -I rewarded the invaluable soothsayer and returned to the garden, which -was beginning to be deserted. I walked in the direction of the exit, -enchanted to know at last where I could find Mademoiselle Caroline. - -As I passed before a silhouette booth, I imagined that I heard a voice -which was not unfamiliar to me. I stopped. People were disputing in the -small oiled-paper studio, and I recognized my neighbor Raymond's voice. -What in the devil was he doing there? I listened; the maker of -silhouettes said: - -"It's half-past eleven, monsieur; everybody's gone, and I must shut up -shop, too." - -"One more silhouette, my friend, and I'll go." - -"You've been here in my studio more than two hours, monsieur; I have cut -you out seventeen times already." - -"Well, this will make eighteen. Oh! I can't have too many portraits; I -shall find places enough for them! everybody's asking me for one." - -"I tell you that I must close my shop, monsieur." - -"Close it, if you choose; I'll stay inside; I don't propose to go yet." - -"You will go, monsieur." - -"One more silhouette!" - -"No, monsieur, you can't have it." - -I could not restrain a roar of laughter, aroused by the desperate -decision of Raymond, who, in his fear of being arrested for all the -stupid things he had done during the evening, had sought shelter in the -silhouette booth, which he was absolutely determined not to abandon. But -my laughter caused great perturbation in my neighbor's soul. - -"Hark!" he said to the painter with scissors; "didn't you hear? There's -somebody close by. You told me the garden was empty." - -"Pay me, monsieur, and be off; or I'll go and fetch the guard to put you -out." - -The threat of the guard made Raymond shudder; he realized that he must -leave the friendly shelter of the booth; but before venturing into the -garden, he thrust his head out of the door, to see if anyone was on the -watch for him. The first person he saw was your humble servant, whose -inclination to laugh was vastly increased at sight of the pale and -discomposed features of his neighbor. Raymond was uncertain whether he -had better hide again or not, when he saw me; but he made the best of -the meeting, and, being certain that I would not impose upon his -unfortunate plight, he clung to me as to the anchor of salvation. - -"My dear Monsieur Dorsan, how delighted I am to meet you! If you knew -all that has happened to me to-night in this infernal garden!" - -"Oh! I know! it's made noise enough." - -"Mon Dieu! do they mean to arrest me?" - -"Why, it's very possible. The man that you hurt is in a very bad way; -the young men whose coats you ruined are collected at the gate; the -damage you did in the garden amounts to considerable, and----" - -"Oh! what an unlucky devil!"--And Raymond rushed back into the -silhouette booth, despite the remonstrances of the proprietor, who -seized him by the coat and tried to put him out. - -"Save me, neighbor, I have no hope except in you!" - -"Very well, I'll do it; although you played me a most contemptible trick -last night." - -"Oh! I promise you--I swear--it was mere chance. I will contradict all -that I said, if that will gratify you; I will say that the girl slept -with me." - -"No, no; if you please, Monsieur Raymond, you will be careful never to -mention her.--But let us begin by leaving this silhouette emporium. -Follow me." - -"I am with you, my dear neighbor.--Give me my portraits; how much are -they?" - -"Seventeen, at forty sous, makes just thirty-four francs, monsieur." - -"The devil! that's rather dear!" - -"It's the regular price." - -"Come, come," I said to Raymond, whose lugubrious face was not worth -thirty-four francs at that moment; "you can make a lot of your friends -happy with them; that's some little compensation." - -Raymond paid, with a sigh, and seized my arm, imploring me to protect -him. - -"I ask nothing better," said I; "but you must appreciate the fact that I -can't stand my ground alone against half a hundred young men who are -waiting for you at the gate, and are to all appearance determined to -make it bad for you." - -"Yes, yes, I can see that; but I can't pass the night here; I have no -hat, and I should certainly take cold; and to-morrow night I am to sing -the aria from _Joconde_ at a musical party." - -"This is very embarrassing. Do you want to risk going out at the gate?" - -"No, indeed! These young men, when they get excited, are very brutal." - -"I see but one way, then, and that is to climb over the wall." - -"But suppose I am taken for a thief?" - -"Never fear; I have a scheme in my head. Come!" - -We took the darkest paths. Raymond followed me in fear and trembling. I -led him to the wall on Rue de Clichy, and bade him sit on the ground -behind a clump of trees. - -"Stay here; I'll go out of the gate and come around to the opposite side -of the wall on Rue de Clichy. When there seems to be an opportune -moment for you to climb over without risk, I will give the signal." - -"What signal?" - -"I will clap my hands twice." - -"Agreed. The wall's rather high; but still, rather than be beaten to a -jelly--I can't hesitate." - -"Adieu! patience; don't make a noise, don't stir, but wait for the -signal." - -"Oh! I won't fail. You couldn't lend me your hat, could you?" - -"Impossible; I have to sing in a duet to-morrow." - -"Then I'll put my handkerchief over my head." - -"That will be very wise." - -"By the way, if they question you at the gate, you must say that I've -gone." - -"That goes without saying." - -"Don't leave me too long." - -"Of course, I shan't suggest your showing yourself while I see anybody -prowling about." - -"Dear Dorsan! I am tremendously obliged to you." - -"Adieu! I go to keep watch for you." - -I took my leave of Raymond, laughing inwardly at his plight and his -poltroonery. At last I left the garden; it was high time, for they were -just going to close the gates. As I passed, I glanced down Rue de -Clichy, where my neighbor supposed that I was doing sentry duty in his -behalf; and I strolled leisurely homeward, leaving dear Raymond to wait -for my signal. His conduct of the preceding evening merited that little -retaliation; moreover, the most speedy revenge is always the best. - - - - -XI - -BY MOONLIGHT - - -I pursued my homeward way, congratulating myself on my little game, and -laughing at the thought of Raymond's fright and of the figure he must -cut waiting for me to rescue him. But soon my mind reverted to a more -agreeable subject. I thought of the charming Caroline. I had no doubt -that she had read my note, and on the morrow I would go to her shop and -find out how far I might hope. A not very moral scheme, I agree! I -proposed to try to seduce a girl, in order to gratify a caprice that -would last only a moment. But what would you have? I have some grievous -faults; I believe that unmarried men were put into the world to make -love to girls. Those girls who desire to remain virtuous should do as -Nicette did--refuse to allow themselves to be seduced. - -Musing thus, I reached my abode. It had seemed a short walk to me. To be -sure, the weather was magnificent; the moon was quite as fine as on the -preceding night; but my thoughts were not upon the firmament. I was on -the point of knocking, when a person who was sitting on the bench near -the porte cochre rose quickly and came toward me. - -"Ah! here you are, Monsieur Dorsan; I was waiting for you." - -I recognized my little flower girl, whom the sight of Mademoiselle -Caroline had banished from my memory. She had not forgotten me; she was -waiting for me in the street! and it was nearly twelve o'clock! - -"How long have you been here, Nicette?" - -"Since nine o'clock, monsieur." - -"Why did you wait so long for me?" - -"Oh! monsieur, please forgive me, but I couldn't stand it; I wanted to -thank you again, and tell you what I have done with my money." - -"My dear girl, that wasn't necessary; I am sure that you are behaving as -you ought." - -"Don't you like it because I waited for you, monsieur? If you don't, -I'll go away----" - -I knew by the sound of her voice that she was ready to weep. Had I -spoken harshly to her? She was going away with a heavy heart, but I took -her hand and detained her. She heaved a deep sigh. Poor Nicette! could -it be for me? If so, I pitied her. In truth, I did not deserve to be -loved by a sensitive, faithful heart; and yet, I wanted women to adore -me and to be faithful to me: reconcile the two, if you can. - -"Come, my dear Nicette, tell me all you have done since last night?" - -"Won't it bore you, monsieur?" - -"No, of course not; don't you know that I am interested in everything -that concerns you?" - -"Oh, monsieur! if you--but here goes: in the first place, I went home to -my mother's, because, after all, she is my mother, and, although she -turned me out of doors, I still owe her respect." - -"That is true; you did very well. How did Madame Jrme receive you?" - -"Very badly, monsieur! oh! very badly! She didn't so much as ask me -where I'd passed the night. But she proposed to me again to marry -Beauvisage, and said that then she'd forgive what she called my -_caravanes_.[A] Has there been any _caravanes_ between you and me, -monsieur?" - -[A] In French slang, "love adventures." - -"Certainly not; and then?" - -"Oh! I refused; because, when it comes to marriage, I'm obstinate, too. -Then she beat me again, and that time you wasn't there to stop her." - -I could not restrain a smile at the artless way in which Nicette -reminded me of the blow I had received in her behalf; but I was -distressed by Madame Jrme's hard-heartedness: to think of turning her -daughter out of doors, beating her, and abandoning her, utterly without -resource, at the age when the simplest and often the only means of -support are to be found in prostitution! Ah! there are mothers unworthy -of the name! - -"Well, Nicette?" - -"Well, monsieur, I packed up my clothes and left the house, without -seeing my sister, who didn't dare to show her face before me. I says to -myself: 'I mustn't whine about it; I haven't done anything to be sorry -for. I refused the pork man, that's true; but when it's a matter of a -girl's whole life, surely she has a right to do as she pleases.'--So I -went off with my little bundle. I don't know how it happened, but after -walking a while I found myself in your street. I looked round for a -booth, and found one over yonder, close by, on Rue Saint-Honor, near -the boulevard. I bought a bed and a chair; that's all I need. To-morrow, -I'll get a table for my bouquets; as to the flowers, I know where to get -them. I'll set up a stand on the corner of the street, on the boulevard; -and when you want a bouquet, monsieur, I shall be there, close by your -house; and it will be easy enough for you to let me know. Have I done -well, monsieur?" - -Nicette had finished speaking, but I still listened. I was touched by -her attachment. She had wanted to be near me, I could see that; and -there was something so simple and ingenuous in the way she told me about -it, that it seemed that in acting thus she had simply done her duty. - -"You don't say anything, monsieur; is it because you're angry at my -leaving my old quarter to come--to this one? If that's it, why, I'll -look for another room to-morrow; I'll go far away, ever so far, and -you'll never find me in your path again!" - -"What do you say? I, angry because you are near me? It's very wrong of -you to say that, Nicette! I thought that I had shown you how deep an -interest I take in you." - -"Oh! I beg your pardon, Monsieur Dorsan, I beg your pardon; perhaps I -ought to have asked your permission--for you are my patron." - -"Hush! what a child you are! I am very glad that you live in this -quarter. I shall see you often, and always with pleasure." - -"Oh! monsieur, and so shall I. But I won't take the liberty again to -wait for you at your door. I only did it to-day because I wanted to tell -you what I'd done, and to let you know where I am now." - -"Don't apologize, my dear girl; I am so glad to see you! Ah! Nicette, -what a cruel, yet delicious, night I passed so near you! I shall never -forget it as long as I live. I know that I shouldn't have so much -courage another time." - -"Let's not say anything more about that, Monsieur Dorsan. I must go -home, for it's very late, and I'm keeping you from your sleep again. To -be sure, this is the last time it will happen." - -"Dear Nicette, your alluring charms, your graces, and your delightful -frankness, will always be with me in that room, where I should be glad -to see you again." - -"Oh! don't say that, I beg of you, Monsieur Dorsan. I'm too far away -from you--a poor flower girl!" - -"Ah! Nicette; if you chose----" - -"Adieu, Monsieur Dorsan! adieu!" - -She said _adieu_, but she did not go. I held one of her hands; she -repelled me and drew me toward her at the same time. My eyes were fixed -upon hers; we said nothing; but if my porte cochre had been open, I -believe that Nicette would have gone with me again. A sudden outcry -aroused us from that pleasant situation. A man ran along the street, -shouting _thief_! Nicette withdrew her hand, bade me a very affectionate -good-night, and fled. I tried to detain her, but she was already far -away. - -I knocked at my door and was just about to enter, when the man whom I -had seen running toward us, all alone, and whom I had taken for a -drunken man, rushed through the porte cochre and fell headlong in the -courtyard, crying: - -"Safe at last!" - -I recognized Raymond's voice; I was curious to learn the end of his -adventures. The concierge, hearing the uproar, arrived on the scene with -a light, and we saw Raymond, his trousers torn from waistband to knee, -lying at full length in the courtyard, gasping with fatigue, and trying -to recover his breath. - -"Mon Dieu!" cried Madame Dupont; "what has happened to you, Monsieur -Raymond? a pretty mess you're in!" - -"What! is it you?" said I, in my turn; "why did you leave Tivoli without -waiting for my signal?" - -"Oh, yes! I fancy I should have had to wait a long while for your -signal!" - -"You're too impatient." - -"I had been crouching in that corner for an hour, when I saw some men -making the rounds of the garden. Faith! that gave me a fright, and I -determined to scale the wall. But I was in such a hurry that I got -caught on some broken glass; I tore my trousers and cut the base of my -spine. On Rue du Mont-Blanc, I was insulted by some drunken men; indeed, -I think they meant to rob me; but I ran off, shouting for help, and here -I am in port, God be praised! But I shall remember Tivoli!" - -"You must bathe your back in warm water, monsieur," said Madame Dupont. - -"Yes, I'll do that in the morning." - -"You saved your silhouettes, I hope?" said I. - -"I believe I lost some of them when I dropped from the wall." - -"The devil! that's a pity! they'll testify against you, and it will be -easy to recognize that profile of yours. I advise you to wear a false -nose and spectacles for a fortnight or so." - -My neighbor, who knew very well that I was making sport of him, took his -candle and tramped upstairs without a word to me. When we were on our -landing, I nodded to him, with a smile, and entered my lodgings alone, -where I slept soundly. Nights follow but do not resemble one another: -that is what all women say a fortnight after marriage. - - - - -XII - -VEXATIONS - - -My first thought when I woke was of my two young women. I cannot say -whether Nicette or Caroline first presented herself to my imagination; I -know that I was attracted by both of them. But Nicette was an honest -girl and desired to remain so; thus far I had acted honorably with her; -I determined not to try to ruin what I had done. I would be her friend, -were it only for the sake of experimenting upon a novel sentiment toward -a woman. - -As to Mademoiselle Caroline, I had formed a different estimate of her: I -did not believe her to be a novice; her little innocent air with -Monsieur Jules did not impose on me; she was on the lookout for a -husband, but she did not love that poor fellow; if she did love him, -would she listen with a smile to all the insipid nonsense that I -whispered to her? if she loved him, would she dance with other men? -Mademoiselle Caroline was a great coquette, and, in my judgment, -decidedly shrewd. And yet, she had treated me cavalierly enough when I -followed her on the street; to be sure, she was cross because I had -rumpled the finery she had prepared for the following day, which was at -that moment much more interesting than a new conquest, since it might be -worth a great many to her. But I should soon know what to expect. - -At noon I betook myself to the shop that my sorcerer had indicated. He -had not deceived me: among a number of saucy faces, I recognized my -charming dancer. The young women all lowered their eyes at sight of a -young man; but they all scrutinized me furtively. Caroline recognized -me; I could tell that by a certain embarrassment, by her evident longing -to look at me, and by the assiduity with which she attacked her work, -the better to conceal her confusion. It was necessary that I should -pretend to have visited the shop for some purpose: I asked for flowers, -wreaths, trimmings; they were all shown to me, but it was a man who was -obliging enough to spread before my eyes all the treasures of the -establishment, and the young women did not stir. - -That did not meet my desires, but I realized that I could not remain -there all day. I bought fifty francs' worth of artificial flowers, for -which I paid cash; and I left my address, asking that they might be sent -to me during the day, as I was to leave for the country in the morning. -The man promised, and I left the shop. Caroline must have understood me; -but would she come? that remained to be seen. - -I returned home, informed my concierge that I expected some parcels I -had just bought, and that the messenger was to bring them up to my room. -I went up myself, and fretted and fumed like all young men awaiting -their first assignation, like all young women whose mammas keep them in -the house when they are burning to go out. An hour passed, and no one -came. Another hour had nearly elapsed, and I was on the point of going -back to the shop, when my doorbell rang. I reached the door with one -bound and threw it open; there stood Monsieur Raymond, laden with an -enormous pasteboard box. - -"What do you want, Monsieur Raymond?" - -"My respects to you, neighbor!" - -"But what brings you to my door, pray?" - -"I will explain. Allow me to come in and put down this box." - -And, without awaiting my reply, he entered my reception room and seated -himself on a chair. I remained standing in front of him, hoping that -that would make him cut his visit short. - -"Excuse me if I make myself at home; but my back is still painful. That -wall was devilish high." - -"What do you want of me? I beg you to tell me, for I am in a great -hurry." - -"Here goes: in the first place, I wanted to make my peace with you, -because neighbors ought not to quarrel." - -"Bless my soul! I have no desire to quarrel." - -"I'm very glad of that; then that's all at an end. I was on the watch -for an opportunity to come here to speak to you; the opportunity came, -and I grasped it. Somebody rang at my door just now and asked for you." - -"What's that? just now? Who was it?" - -"A girl--very pretty, too; but not so pretty as the one the other -night." - -"A girl! what did she want? pray go on!" - -"She brought this box for you, and said there was no message." - -"Well! where is she? what did you say?" - -"I took charge of the box, telling her that you had gone out, so that I -might have the pleasure of delivering it myself and making my peace with -you." - -"Great God! is it possible? Must you always meddle in other people's -business, just to drive me mad? I'll stake my head it was she!" - -I opened the box, while Raymond stared at me in amazement; he did not -know which way to turn, seeing the gleam of anger in my eyes when he -expected thanks. I found all the flowers I had bought, and, in my rage, -I kicked the box away. The bouquets and trimmings flew through the air, -and a garland _ la jardinire_ lighted on Raymond's brow; he dared not -remove it, because my outburst of wrath had stupefied him. - -After storming about and crumpling and mutilating my flowers, I threw -myself into a chair and my eyes fell upon my neighbor. At that sight my -anger vanished; it was impossible for me to keep a serious face when I -saw Raymond crowned with paper flowers and glancing about him in terror. -I roared with laughter; that reassured him, and he followed my example, -but his laughter was of that forced variety which resembles a grimace, -and not that inextinguishable merriment in which the gods indulge when -Vulcan fills their glasses. - - "Vulcan to find involved in this debate, - The gentle reader'd scarce anticipate." - -"Well," said Monsieur Raymond at last, still trying to smile, "your -angry fit seems to have passed over?" - -"I must make the best of it." - -"Aren't you satisfied with the goods they sent you?" - -"Much I care for the goods, Monsieur Raymond! you will compel me to -move." - -"I, neighbor? Why so, pray?" - -"Because you seem to be stationed beside me here to thwart all my plans, -to drive me mad with rage!" - -"I don't understand." - -"Why, in heaven's name, when people ring at your door by mistake, don't -you send them to me? Why do you say that I'm not at home when I am? Why -did you undertake to deliver this box, when I desired to speak to the -person who brought it?" - -"My dear neighbor, I am distressed--I was entirely ignorant----" - -"I beg you, Monsieur Raymond, as a favor, not to meddle in my affairs -any more, or we shall have a serious falling-out! You have quite enough -other occupation in the house, listening to the gossip of the cooks, -keeping an eye on the women, playing the spy on the girls, and mixing -yourself up in family rows, without disturbing yourself concerning my -conduct." - -"I assure you, neighbor, that someone has been slandering me to you. I -am incapable--I love a jest, that's the whole of it; but I never gossip. -In the first place, I am not talkative. If I were, I might tell you that -the lady on the first floor has two lovers; that her husband keeps a -mistress; that Monsieur Grard, on the second, is in a bad way in -business, and that I've seen summonses for him in the concierge's hands; -that Madame Bertin gives evening parties in order to get husbands for -her daughters; that her cook makes a handsome commission on her -provisions; that the cook at the rear of the courtyard has a lover she -carries soup to; that Gerville the government clerk is running into debt -and doesn't answer the bell when his creditors ring; and a thousand -other things. But it's none of my business; I have quite enough to do to -attend to my own affairs, without bothering my head about other -people's. I took this box, thinking that I was doing you a favor, and -because I wanted an opportunity to make myself useful to you. It made -you angry, and I won't do it again. After this, I'll send away people -who want to speak to you, even when you're not in. I salute you, -neighbor!" - -"By the way, one other word, if you please. What sort of looking girl -was it who brought the box?" - -"Why, very good-looking--that is to say, attractive." - -"How tall?" - -"Medium." - -"Dark hair?" - -"Yes; dark or chestnut-colored." - -"Black eyes?" - -"Yes; that is to say, dark gray." - -"Ah! it was she!" - -"Who is she?" - -"That doesn't concern you, Monsieur Raymond." - -"True; I asked the question inadvertently. Adieu!--By the way, are you -going to Madame Vauvert's to-night? There's to be a grand party, a -concert, and perhaps dancing. I fancy there'll be lots of people there. -I am going to sing the aria from _Joconde_. Monsieur Vauvert sent me -word that he should have a young woman who plays finely on the guitar, -and a gentleman who sings in Italian like a Bouffon." - -"A most alluring prospect." - -"I believe Madame Bertin is going, with her young ladies. The younger -one is studying a piece that she's to play on the piano. But time flies, -and I have a lot of errands to do.--Au revoir, neighbor! I promised -Vauvert to bring him a 'cello and a second violin to complete his -quartette. I must go and drum up my performers." - -He went away at last. The infernal fellow was responsible for my failure -to see Caroline; for I had no doubt that it was she who had brought my -box. What was I to do next? If I went again to the shop, what should I -say? I had no idea; but I did not propose to have my rooms filled with -artificial flowers to no purpose. I returned to Rue Sainte-Apolline. - -The proprietor was out; so much the better. I complained and stormed -because my flowers had not been sent. A girl rose and declared that she -had left them at my rooms. It was not Caroline; therefore, it was not -she who had come. I became calmer and shifted the blame onto my -neighbor's shoulders. The forewoman scolded the girl. I bought some more -wreaths, pretending that I had forgotten to buy them on my first visit; -and I asked to have them sent with me. This time Caroline was selected -to be the messenger. At last I was to have an opportunity to speak to -her freely, to be alone with her! - -"One moment!" I said to myself; "I haven't reached that point yet; I -must not be too sure beforehand; one is so often disappointed!" - -Mademoiselle Caroline walked with her eyes bent on the ground, and I -remained at a respectful distance; but when we were a few steps from the -shop, I put her into a cab, which took us to my domicile. She hesitated -at first about entering the cab, but I urged her; she consented at last, -and then she had no choice but to listen to all that love impelled me to -say, if I may give the name of _love_ to the caprice that had occupied -my thoughts since the preceding night. - -But obstacles give added value to the most trifling fancy, and sometimes -transform a simple caprice into a deep-rooted sentiment. The difficulty -which I had encountered in obtaining an interview with Caroline caused -me to find a greater charm in her company; my words had more fire, more -eloquence; and so little is required to convince a girl whose heart is -already half vanquished. - -Everything, therefore, led me to hope for the most perfect success. In -time the cab stopped, we alighted, and Mademoiselle Caroline handed me -my box, refusing to go up to my rooms. In vain did I promise, aye, -swear to be good; I was powerless to overcome the flowermaker's -obstinacy; all that I could obtain was an appointment on the boulevard -for the following evening. - -She left me, and I entered the house alone. I could not help thinking of -the difference between Mademoiselle Caroline's conduct and Nicette's. -The little flower girl, who had known me but a few minutes, herself -proposed to come to my apartment at midnight; while the grisette, having -an excuse for going there, was afraid to venture in broad daylight. What -was I to conclude? That one realized the danger more fully than the -other? No. Nicette realized it; but she simply did not think of it; she -trusted me. That Caroline was more virtuous than Nicette was impossible; -indeed, I feared the contrary, and that there might be the same -difference in their respective morals as in the flowers they dealt in. - -I must, in any event, wait until the time appointed for our meeting. I -determined to go that evening to Madame Vauvert's; not to hear Raymond -sing the _Joconde_ aria, but because there was generally a collection of -original creatures there that amused me, to say nothing of the master -and mistress of the house, who are well worth a chapter to themselves. - - - - -XIII - -AN AMATEUR CONCERT - - -In Paris there are parties for all tastes, all social ranks, all -professions, all shades of opinion; in a word, for all classes. - -A young man with tact and breeding may go everywhere; nothing is so easy -as to obtain admission to the enormous parties, the gorgeous ftes and -balls, which are so popular that people go thither in crowds and do not -see one another. The master and mistress of the house do not know the -names of half the men who crowd their salons. In the best society it is -customary for an invited guest to introduce whomsoever he may choose, -without asking permission. The newcomer salutes the host and his wife; -they exchange the conventional phrases, smiling at each other most -amicably; that is all that is necessary; and one may then proceed to -play cards, dance, and regale one's self, without paying any further -attention to the master of the house. - -It is not so easy to obtain admission to what are called _bourgeois_ -parties. There the host, being a little more particular than the banker -or marquis of the Chausse d'Antin, likes to know the people who come to -his house. When one young man introduces another to him, he inquires his -name, his profession, and his character; indeed, there are some who -carry their absurd prejudices so far as to turn a cold shoulder to young -men whose too free and easy manners do not please them. But this -extreme severity of morals is found only in the Marais or in the heart -of Faubourg Saint-Germain. - -Between the first society and the bourgeoisie, between etiquette and -license, there are the delightful circles, distinguished by amiable -freedom of manner, artless gayety, and a pleasant intimacy; these are -generally to be found among artists. The arts go hand in hand; genuine -talents are not jealous of one another; they esteem, seek out, and -appreciate one another; that is why we find among them wit without -malice, jesting without bitterness, rivalry without envy, merit without -arrogance, and wealth without display. - -Next come the strange, abnormal parties, which are made up from all the -others. The people who give them do not know how to receive company; but -they insist upon having company all the time, because it is good form to -give soires, and in these days no one is willing to lag behind his -neighbor. For my part, I am in the habit of going only where I am -invited by the host himself; I do not like to be introduced by another -guest, unless it be at one of those crushes to which one goes as one -would go to the theatre; and one may stay away from a second one without -being taxed with discourtesy, because there is no danger of having been -noticed at the first. - -The function of Monsieur and Madame Vauvert may be placed in the last -category. The master of the house fancied that he was a musician, but he -had never in his life been able to beat a measure in three time, or to -observe a minim rest or a crotchet rest, although he used his feet, his -head, and his hands. He thrummed a little on the guitar; and when he had -succeeded in accompanying some little ballad, without falling in with a -minim rest or a crotchet one on the way, he was the happiest of men. -Add to this an enduring passion for the fair sex, to which he paid -assiduous court, despite his wife, a nose always smeared with snuff, -soiled clothes and frills, strong breath and shifty eyes, a figure of -medium height and a body that was always trembling, and you will have an -idea of Monsieur Vauvert, who was a very good fellow in spite of his -trifling faults, and whose greatest crime was not to be virtuous and -orderly at forty-five. Gayety is of all ages, but libertinage is a -different matter. - - "If there's a time for folly, - So there's a time for sense." - -And I trust that at forty I shall be as virtuous as I now am the -opposite. But let us come to Madame Vauvert. - -She must once have been good-looking; the trouble was that she insisted -upon continuing to be so. Her complexion was still fresh and ruddy, even -when she was ill; which tempted unkind tongues to say that she made it -herself. She was not familiar with the manners of good society, but by -way of compensation she had a vast deal of curiosity and an -extraordinary talent for setting people by the ears, while seeming never -to speak ill of anyone; she also had a very pronounced penchant for -good-looking youths and for chocolate. - -Still, Madame Vauvert's parties were very entertaining, because there -was not the slightest restraint, everyone did what he chose, and one was -certain of meeting a lot of original people and of seeing some new faces -at every party. Most of those who appeared there simply passed on and -off, as in a magic lantern; those whose only aim was to be amused went -again and again. I was one of the latter; so Vauvert had come to call me -his dear friend, while his charming spouse always greeted me with a -most gracious little smile. - -As Monsieur Vauvert was only a government clerk, he did not live on the -first floor; but on his reception evenings he caused candle ends to be -placed along the staircase, so that the artists and amateurs might not -break their noses before reaching the third floor above the entresol. He -had no servant, but he had a nephew some fourteen or fifteen years old, -who was junior clerk to a notary; a sly, mischievous youngster, whom his -dear uncle tried to make useful on his festal days, which displeased the -young man, who on those occasions always returned home later than usual -from the notary's, in order not to be at the service of his uncle and -aunt. It was nearly ten o'clock when I arrived at Monsieur Vauvert's; -the company rarely assembled before that hour, for the petty bourgeois -try to mimic the nobility, and think it good form to arrive very late at -a party. Musicians, whether amateurs or professionals, love to keep -people waiting; and I believe that, in due time, evening parties will -not begin until the next morning. - -I rang. The door was opened by Madame Vauvert; whence I concluded that -the young nephew had not yet returned. - -"Ah! here you are, my little Dorsan; it's very good of you to come; we -shall have a lot of people to-night." - -"You _will_ have? Do you mean to say that your guests haven't arrived -yet?" - -"Some of them are late; but it's early yet." - -"Not very." - -"We have a tall young lady from the Conservatoire, who has a magnificent -voice." - -"The deuce!" - -"And a lady who plays the 'cello." - -"Great heaven! why, here it's as it is at Nicolet's: always worse and -worse!" - -"Ha! ha! what a funny fellow!" - -"What music have you had already?" - -"Nothing yet." - -"What! nothing? and it's ten o'clock! For whom are you waiting to begin -your concert?" - -"Little Martin hasn't come yet, to play the piano accompaniments." - -"Isn't his sister here?" - -"Yes, but she won't play to-night; she's sick; she's having one of her -nervous attacks." - -"Ah, yes! that's quite natural. But where's your husband?" - -"He's gone out to get a 'cello part and to borrow a second violin, so -that we can have a quartette." - -"It seems to me that it would have been well to set about it a little -sooner." - -"Why, the poor man's been running his legs off ever since dinner. He had -to fetch Madame Rosemonde and her daughter, then go to the musical -instrument maker's for a double bass, then send for Mademoiselle -Luquet's harp, then go to make sure that Monsieur Crachini could come; -in fact, there's no end to what he's had to do!" - -"I can see that he has had his hands full." - -"And that little rascal of a Friquet doesn't come home! I hope his uncle -will give him a good trouncing to-night. But come in, my dear fellow." - -Our conversation was held in a narrow passage leading on one side to the -dining room, which did duty as bedroom and dressing room, and on the -other to the salon. I entered this last-named apartment, where the -regular habitus and the newcomers were assembled. Everyone was -wondering what the host and hostess could be doing, that no one had seen -them; everyone was calling for them, and asking why the music could not -begin; but not one of the singers was willing to sing first, and the -instrumentalists seemed no better disposed. - -"It seems to me that things aren't likely to go very well to-night," -said a short, pockmarked man, who waddled up to me, smiling maliciously, -whose nose was hidden by his bulging cheeks, and whose eyes one sought -in vain behind his spectacles. "Almost ten o'clock, and nothing doing; -you must agree that it's disrespectful to the company! Poor Vauvert! -passing his evening scouring the neighborhood for instruments and -scores! It's amusing enough! There are not two houses like this in -Paris." - -"That is just why it's so priceless. But aren't you going to sing -to-night?" - -"Yes; I've brought my song from _Jean de Paris_; it's called the -_Princesse de Navarre_." - -"I seem to remember that you sang that to us at the last reception." - -"So I did; but I haven't had time to learn anything else; and then, you -know, it's such a fine thing!-- - - "''Tis the Princesse de Navarre whom I annou--ou--ounce!' - -Gad! how pretty it is!" - -"Yes, when Martin sings it, it's delightful. Shall we have much singing -to-night?" - -"Oh! we shall have some sport. Raymond is to sing the aria from -_Joconde_; that tall girl yonder is to sing the inevitable song from -_Montano et Stphanie_; the pupil from the Conservatoire has brought a -song, too; and Monsieur Crachini will obligingly deafen us with a -romanza or two. Then Chamonin and his friend are to make an attempt at a -duo from the Bouffes. That's enough, I hope! God grant that Gripaille -doesn't take his guitar to accompany us! if he does, we are lost." - -As the chubby-faced little man finished speaking, Gripaille accosted -him, and was greeted with: - -"Well, my dear Gripaille, aren't we to have the pleasure of hearing you? -Come, bring out your guitar; these ladies are dying for some of your -chords." - -Gripaille, who considered himself the first guitarist in Paris, replied, -casting a seductive leer upon the ladies who surrounded us: - -"What the devil do you expect me to sing you? I don't know anything! -I've got a cold, too; and then, Vauvert's guitar is such a wretched -instrument! a regular chestnut stove! it's impossible to play on it." - -"With such talent as yours, one can play on anything," observed a little -old woman, throwing herself back in her chair and clasping her hands -ecstatically, while tears of pleasure started from her eyes. "Mon Dieu! -what blissful moments I owe to you! Music produces such an effect on -me--such an effect! you can't form any idea of it; my nerves are so -sensitive, I abandon myself so utterly to the melody! Take your guitar, -enchanter! take it and make me dream! You remind me of a handsome -traveller who played the guitar under my windows when I was young!" - -The chubby-faced gentleman and I turned away, to avoid laughing in the -face of the old woman, from whom Gripaille had great difficulty in -extricating himself. Old age is certainly most worthy of respect; but it -is hard to keep a serious face before such old idiots, who fall into a -trance during a ballad or an _adagio_. - -I saw the old man who usually played the 'cello part look at his watch, -and heard him mutter between his teeth: - -"This is very disagreeable! I must be at home at eleven o'clock, and we -are wasting all this time doing nothing; and I've been here since seven! -They were laughing at me when they told me that they were going to begin -early, and that there would be a full quartette here; but they won't -catch me again." - -At last Monsieur Vauvert appeared, panting, almost breathless, drenched -with perspiration, and bending beneath the burden of a tenor violin and -several portfolios of music. - -"Here I am! here I am!" he exclaimed, bustling into the room with an air -of great bewilderment; "I've had hard work collecting all the parts, but -I've succeeded at last." - -"You must have been diverting yourself between whiles," said Madame -Vauvert, pursing her lips. - -"Oh, yes! parbleu! that's very likely; diverting myself, indeed! I'm -bathed in perspiration!--You can begin the quartette, messieurs." - -"Let's begin, let's begin!" said Monsieur Pattier, the 'cello player; -"we have very little time.--But have you brought my score?" - -"Yes, yes! there it is on the stand." - -"Come, messieurs, let's tune up." - -The amateurs who formed the quartette tried to bring their instruments -in tune with one another. Meanwhile, the guests took their places to -listen; sat down when they could find chairs. The ladies were already -yawning; the bare announcement of a quartette gave them the vapors; to -distract their thoughts, they chatted with the men who stood behind -their chairs. They whispered and laughed and made fun of everybody, -especially of the performers; the moment when music is being performed -is always selected by the listeners to make the most noise. - -At last the intrepid amateurs were in tune and took their places at -their desks. The old 'cello player had put his little shade of green -paper round his candle, so that the light should not hurt his eyes; the -tenor violinist had put on his spectacles; the second violin put an -ounce of rosin on his bow; and the first violin adjusted his cravat so -that his instrument should not rumple his collar. - -All these preliminaries being completed,--during which Vauvert tried to -bring the assemblage to order by many a prolonged _hush_!--the first -violin raised his bow and stamped on the floor, glancing from one to -another of his colleagues. - -"Are we ready?" he said at last, with a determined air. - -"Oh! I've been ready two hours!" retorted Monsieur Pattier, with an -angry shrug. - -"One moment, messieurs," said the second violin; "my first string is -loose; it's a new string; I must tighten it." - -The tenor seized the opportunity to play over a passage that seemed -rather difficult, and the 'cellist consoled himself with a pinch of -snuff. - -"Now I'm ready," said the second violin. - -"That's very fortunate.--Attention, messieurs, if you please; we will -play the _allegro_ rather slowly, and the _adagio_ somewhat quickly; -that produces a better effect." - -"As you please; it's your place to beat time." - -The signal was given; the first violin started, and the others straggled -after, as usual. Although I paid little attention to the quartette, it -seemed to me to be even worse than ordinarily. - -"The villains have sworn to flay us alive!" said one of my neighbors. - -"That isn't right! that isn't right!" cried the first violin, stopping -short. - -"I don't see why it didn't go well enough," observed the tenor. - -"No, no! there was something that was all wrong." - -"Where was it?" - -"Where? I can't say exactly." - -"Well, _I_ didn't miss a note," said the second violin. - -"Nor I." - -"Nor I." - -"Come, messieurs, let us begin again." - -"All right, but see that you beat time properly." - -"I should say that I beat time loud enough." - -"To be sure you do," said Madame Vauvert; "and the person who lives -underneath said she would complain to the landlord." - -They began to play again; but it went no better, although the first -violin writhed and gesticulated like one possessed; the company began to -laugh, and the performers stopped. - -"It certainly doesn't go right," said Monsieur Longuet, the first violin -and conductor. "There must be mistakes somewhere; let me see the 'cello -score. What does this mean? you're playing in _B_ flat and we in _D_! -Parbleu! I'm not surprised." - -"I'm playing just what you told me to," rejoined old Pattier, scarlet -with anger; "the first quartette in the first portfolio." - -"True; how the devil does it happen? Let's look at the title. What do I -see? Mozart's quartette! and we are playing one of Pleyel's! Ha! ha! -that's a good one!" - -Everybody laughed at the episode; Monsieur Pattier alone was furious -over the mistake, for which Vauvert was responsible, and which resulted -in preventing the performance of the quartette. He rushed up to the -master of the house, who had just seated himself in a corner of the -salon beside a young brunette on whom he was bestowing meaning glances. - -"How's this, Monsieur Vauvert? You tell me that you have brought the -score that was missing, and you give me the bass of a Mozart quartette -when we are to play one of Pleyel's!" - -"I thought I heard you mention Mozart." - -"You thought! a man doesn't make such mistakes as that!" - -"Well! I'll go and change it." - -"No, no, it's no use; almost eleven o'clock; a pretty time to go out -after music! I shan't forget this trick." - -Pre Pattier went away, muttering savagely; nobody paid any attention to -him. Madame Vauvert scolded her husband for his blunder, and the company -congratulated themselves on their escape from the quartette; while the -tenor, who was determined not to be squelched, persisted in trying the -brilliant passages of his part. Neighbor Raymond had just arrived, with -his favorite piece under his arm. I noticed several new faces, and I was -looking about for Madame Bertin and her daughters, who seldom came to -Monsieur Vauvert's, whose decidedly mixed society was ill suited to -well-bred young ladies, when I heard the confused murmur that announces -the arrival of a new personage. - -I looked toward the door of the salon. A very stylishly dressed lady was -being escorted into the room by Vauvert, on whose arm she leaned, and -whose soiled linen, snuffy nose, and awkward manner were in striking -contrast to the grace, the refinement, and the elegant manners of the -lady, for whom he tried to find a seat in his salon, where vacant chairs -were as scarce as at Tivoli. I spied one by the fireplace, upon which a -huge cat lay asleep; I threw the cat to the floor, and presented the -chair to the newcomer, who thanked me as she accepted it. Thereupon I -examined her more closely, and recognized the lady whom I had seen at -the theatre two nights before, and whose carriage I had made a vain -attempt to follow. I was fully convinced that it was she when I saw in -the doorway the man who accompanied her on that occasion. - -Decidedly that Saturday evening was destined to mark an epoch in my -life; for chance had thrown in my way all the persons who had then -attracted my attention. I was Nicette's friend, I hoped to be Caroline's -lover, and as for this other lady, whose name I did not know as yet, I -was ready to bet that we should become better acquainted. - -Neighbor Raymond, who lost no time when he hoped to win applause, had -already approached the piano and was looking about for someone to -accompany him. But Monsieur Gripaille, seeing that no one asked him to -sing, or paid any attention to him, ran and seized the guitar, seated -himself in the centre of the salon, and prepared to begin. Singing is -always the most popular part of a concert, especially a concert of -amateurs, where those who play upon any instrument are rarely good -enough players or good enough musicians to give pleasure to their -audience. A quartette entertains none but those who take part in it; a -sonata on the piano makes people yawn; airs with variations for the harp -are always twice too long, and pieces for the guitar always fall flat -after other instruments. Only for singing, therefore, does the audience -at such affairs care to cease its conversation; a pleasant voice never -wearies the attention or the ears. - -But Monsieur Gripaille had not a pleasant voice--far from it; it was a -continual medley of falsetto, shrill notes, and transitions of an -octave, the whole accompanied by the thrumming of his thumb on the bass -chord of the guitar, while he shook his head from side to side to add to -his personal charms. However, the airs he sang were sometimes tuneful, -the words amusing, and his performance diverted the company for a -moment. But as he always sang the same things, we knew them by heart; -and when he once had the guitar in his hands, it was impossible to make -him put it down; after the ballad came a rondeau, after the rondeau a -comic song, after the comic song another ballad, and so on. I was not -bored, because I was talking with the new arrival, who seemed vastly -astonished at all that she saw, and very glad to find me there; for she -recognized me, and I saw that my presence was not disagreeable to her. - -But soon I heard neighbor Raymond and the man with spectacles -objurgating Gripaille because he did not stop singing. - -"It's horrible! it's murderous! it's enough to put you to sleep!" said -Raymond; "he'll never stop!" - -"Oh! when he once has his guitar, we are lost! there's nothing to do but -let him sing." - -"And he doesn't want anyone to make a sound, either; not even to speak. -See! he's glancing angrily in this direction now, because we're -talking." - -"I don't care if he is; it's altogether too much; tunes that he's sung -to us twenty times!" - -"He says that he wrote them." - -"He lies; I've seen them printed under another name." - -"Great God! I believe he's beginning another one. That fellow ought to -be forbidden to enter a salon." - -"Faith, yes! let's call Vauvert, and tell him to make him shut up." - -"He wouldn't dare." - -"I'll tell you; we must have some young lady escorted to the piano; -perhaps that will compel Gripaille to give up his place." - -The two men ran after Vauvert, who was in the utmost perplexity, for he -did not know how to request his friend Gripaille to cease to entertain -the company. At last, a tall, stout young woman consented to sing; young -Martin arrived to play the accompaniments, and they were escorted to the -piano. Gripaille pretended not to see what was going on, and played the -prelude to his sixth comic song; but the noise in the dressing room, -where a party of young men had assembled who could not find room in the -salon, forced the guitarist to abandon the contest; he rose very -ill-humoredly, despite the faint forced applause, and for lack of -something better to do sat down in front of the little old woman, who -had been partly in a trance and partly in heaven throughout his singing. - -"Come," she said to Gripaille, as he approached, "come, let me embrace -you! You have enchanted me--exalted me to the skies--that is the word! -Come, I entreat you!" - -The wretched guitarist was compelled to submit; he embraced the old lady -with a good grace; admirers are rare, and one has to pay dear for them. - -My neighbor spied me and came to me with outstretched hand; but he -halted in front of my fair unknown, to whom he made a sweeping bow. The -devil of a fellow seemed to know everybody. I listened to their -conversation. - -"Whom do I see? Madame de Marsan! by what chance? Really, this is a -happiness I did not expect! To what are we indebted for this pleasant -surprise?" - -"Monsieur de Marsan meets Monsieur Vauvert sometimes at the department, -and Monsieur Vauvert has been urging him for a long time to come to his -concerts; so to-day we decided to come;--but I confess," she said, -turning to me, "that I did not expect all that I see." - -"We will try, madame, to give you so much pleasure that you will not -regret your evening." - -Thereupon my neighbor ran to the piano, doubtless to prempt the place -next to the tall young lady. But the little chubby-faced man had -anticipated him, and I foresaw that we could not escape the _Princesse -de Navarre_. - -While the young woman was singing her air from _Montano et Stphanie_, -being forced to give up my chair to a damsel who was looking about in -vain for a seat, I went for a breath of air to the dressing room, where -a number of young men had taken refuge, driven from the salon by the -shrill cries of the singer. At that moment the doorbell rang; Vauvert -opened the door, and little Friquet appeared. I expected a scene between -the uncle and the nephew, and I waited to hear. - -"Where have you been, you rascal?" demanded Vauvert, trying to assume an -imposing air. - -"Why, uncle, I have been--I have been at the office." - -"At your office, until eleven o'clock at night!" - -"Yes, uncle." - -"You don't expect to make us believe that, I hope?" - -"Why not, uncle?" - -"Because I know that you leave it every night at nine o'clock." - -"The head clerk gave me some errands to do, uncle; that is what made me -so late." - -"Errands! I know how you do errands! I've been hearing about you, young -scoundrel that you are!" - -"In the first place, uncle, I am not a scoundrel." - -"Your head clerk told me that the day before yesterday morning, while -they were waiting for a very urgent paper that they'd sent you to have -signed, he found you sitting coolly under Pont des Arts, fishing." - -"Me, uncle, me! My word, what a lie!" - -"He has the face to deny it, when I have proofs of the fact!" - -"Proofs? what proofs?" - -"Look, Monsieur Friquet, here's a package of hooks that I found in your -coat pocket. Well! what do you say to that?" - -"That doesn't prove anything, uncle; I didn't buy those hooks for -myself." - -"For whom did you buy them, then?" - -"For my brother, who means to go fishing in the Canal de l'Ourcq on -Sunday." - -"You're the most shameless liar I know. I'll bet that you bought a -theatre check to-night, and that you've been to see the end of some -play." - -"You know perfectly well that I haven't got any money, uncle." - -"Oh! you always have money to go to the theatre and to stuff yourself. -Come, monsieur, fill the glasses and pass them round to the ladies." - -"That's it!" muttered the little nephew, turning angrily on his heel; -"as soon as I get home, I have to be uncle's servant, they'd better get -a negro. And then, the first thing in the morning, aunt sends me to get -her milk and her fuel, and lights for her cat." - -"You seem to be arguing the matter!" said Madame Vauvert, pinching -Friquet's arm; "there! that's to teach you to grumble." - -"Ow! how mean to pinch me like that, aunt! I shall be black and blue for -a week." - -"So much the better!" - -"Mon Dieu! how ugly she is!" muttered Friquet; and I saw him, for -consolation, take a slice of cake out of his pocket and swallow it in -three mouthfuls. - -But the shrill sounds had ceased; the tall young lady was no longer -singing. The little chubby-faced man took her place; he was determined -to sing his air from _Jean de Paris_, and we had to resign ourselves. -While he struggled to hold out his notes, coughing at every ritornelle -to make us believe that he had a cold, I saw the other singers look at -each other, make signs, yawn, and compress their lips. In truth, -amateurs are more unkind than professionals, and they who are in great -need of indulgence for themselves are always ready to tear others to -tatters. They think to conceal their own mediocrity by calling attention -to their neighbor's lack of talent; self-esteem, which blinds us to our -own defects, impels us to seek out with avidity the faults of others, as -if we were the gainers thereby! What folly! Because Monsieur So-and-So -sings false, does that give you a fine voice? because he plays the -violin badly, are you the better performer on the piano? because another -is ugly, awkward, and ridiculous, are you any handsomer, more graceful, -and more agreeable? Of course not; but it is always pleasant to see -people at whom one can poke fun, and whom we believe to be less -abundantly endowed by Nature than we. Remember that Roquelaure joyously -threw himself on the neck of a man who seemed to him even uglier than -himself. But, monsieur, what a difference! Roquelaure sacrificed his -self-esteem; but you, had you been in his place, would have made sport -of the man he embraced, and, turning to look in a mirror, would have -deemed yourself handsome, I vow. - -The _Princesse de Navarre_ being duly executed, the little man made the -circuit of the salon, trying to pick up a word of praise, even from -those whom he had so recently declared to be ignorant of music; for -praise is always pleasant. Everybody told him that he had sung very -well; that was inevitable; we were well bred, which means that we had -ceased to be frank. I alone ventured to observe that he seemed to have a -cold; he turned as red as a turkey cock, and his nose vanished -completely. - -"That is so," he said at last; "I have a very bad cold; it embarrassed -me a great deal." - -"Why did you sing, then?" - -"Oh! people urged me so hard!" - -And I had seen him dispute with Raymond for the opportunity! What -strange creatures men are! But, hush! my neighbor was going to sing; -that deserved attention. But, no; two other men anticipated him; they -sang an Italian duet, I believe; but it was difficult to understand the -veritable hotchpotch they made at the piano: one shook his head to mark -time, as a bear dances behind the bars of his cage; the other, who was -evidently very short-sighted, kept his nose glued to the music. The -young man who acted as accompanist tried in vain to make them sing -together: it was impossible. - -"You're behind," said one. - -"That's because I skipped a line." - -"Well, go on!" - -"You go too fast; you hurry me. I never saw the music before, and to -sing Italian at sight is devilish hard." - -I was sure that he had been studying his part for a fortnight. Despite -their efforts, they were obliged to leave the duet half sung. - -"We will sing it the next time," said Monsieur Chamonin; "we shall be -surer of ourselves then, for the piece needs to be carefully studied. -Rossini is very chromatic." - -"That's so," said Vauvert, stuffing his nose with snuff, a part of which -remained on his shirt front; "it's a pity you didn't finish it, for I -thought it was very pretty." - -"We'll go and hear it once more at the Bouffons." - -"They had better stay there," said Gripaille, in an undertone, delighted -by their misadventure. - -"For my part, I don't care for Italian," said Madame Vauvert. "I never -can hear anything but _tchi and tcha_; and it doesn't amuse me in the -least." - -"Oh! what blasphemy, madame! not like Rossini!" - -"Who's Rossini, uncle?" inquired the youthful clerk, who had stolen into -the salon. "Seems to me I've seen that name, in _Don Quixote_." - -"The idiot, to mistake _Rosinante for Rossini_! Go and wash the glasses, -booby, and don't mix in the conversation again." - -At last my neighbor was at the piano, and had opened his mouth to an -enormous width to inform us that he had "long wandered o'er the world." -But at that moment we heard the notes of a 'cello, and Vauvert appeared -with a music stand, which he placed in the centre of the salon. - -"What on earth are you doing there?" shouted Raymond; "don't you see -that I am singing?" - -"Madame Witcheritche is going to play her solo on the 'cello." - -"In a few minutes; I am singing now, I tell you. Madame Witcheritche can -play afterward." - -"No, she wants to play now, because it's getting late." - -And paying no heed to the mutterings of Raymond, who, in his wrath, -overturned the candlestick on the piano, Vauvert arranged the music -stand, then went to usher in the German virtuoso, whom I had not -previously noticed. She was a very handsome woman, very fair and -somewhat insipid, like most German women, but well built and graceful; -she held the 'cello between her legs with astonishing ease, and seemed -not at all abashed. She played easily and with excellent taste; and I -saw by the long faces of the members of the quartette that they had not -expected to encounter in one of the other sex a musical talent in -presence of which they could no longer hope to shine. - -I heard a voice at my ear incessantly repeating: - -"Gut, gut, sehr gut; tudge lidely, holt te pow firm; lidely on te -shtrings!" - -I turned and saw a hideous face looking first at the performer, then at -the company, making grimaces for tokens of approval, and rolling about a -pair of eyes that reminded me of Brunet's in the _Dsespoir de -Jocrisse_. The owner of that extraordinary countenance was a tall man in -a threadbare green coat, of vulgar aspect, and with pretentious airs -which made him even more ridiculous. - -"Who is that individual?" I asked one of my neighbors. - -"That's the husband of the lady playing the 'cello." - -"What! such a disgusting face approach that charming head! What an -outrage! It reminds me of a Satyr beside a Hebe." - -"Still, the lady seems to be fond of her husband." - -"It's easy to see that she's a foreigner. What does this husband of hers -do?" - -"Nothing; he's a baron." - -"A baron! I should never have suspected it; he looks more like a -cobbler. But in Germany everybody's a baron, just as in Russia all the -soldiers have decorations; it doesn't mean anything." - -Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche, who, as he rolled his eyes about, had -doubtless observed that I was looking at him, came to me as soon as his -wife had finished, and began to converse with a smiling face. I have -observed that the Germans smile a great deal when they are talking. I -regretted that it was not courteous to laugh in a person's face, for -Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche was very amusing to look at, -especially when he wished to make himself agreeable. I wondered what he -wanted of me. - -"I'll pet tat monsir is ein egsberd on te 'cello. Monsir is ein much gut -blayer himself, hein?" - -"I, monsieur? you are mistaken; I do not play at all." - -"Oh! you vish not to admit it; I can tivine all at once te innermost -toughts of bersons py tare faces." - -"The deuce! you are very fortunate, Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche!" - -"I haf shtudy te human heard; I am most egsberd in physsionomique." - -"What do you say, monsieur le baron?" - -"I say I am ein egsberd in physsionomique." - -"I don't understand at all." - -"In physsionomique." - -"Oh! you mean physiognomy." - -Monsieur le baron turned on his heel, without a smile. The best way to -rid one's self of a foreigner is to pretend not to understand him. - -Meanwhile my little dialogue with Monsieur de Witcheritche had caused me -to miss Monsieur Crachini's romanza. I was sorry, for he always combined -with his singing an expressive pantomime which made it doubly -interesting. While various other amateurs entertained the company, I -looked about for Raymond; for being unable to find a seat beside Madame -de Marsan, I was anxious to obtain some information concerning her, and -my neighbor was the very man to give me that. - -He was not in the salon. I went into the smaller room, where my entrance -brought to an abrupt close a whispered conversation between Vauvert and -a fair-haired lady who had been in the dining room an hour, looking for -her shawl amid a multitude of bonnets, mantles, and shawls which were -tossed pell-mell on the bed of the host and hostess. - -"Are you leaving us already?" said Vauvert, in a melting voice, glancing -behind him to see if his wife was coming. - -"Yes, it's very late; I must go home." - -"My nephew will escort you.--Friquet! Friquet!" - -Friquet appeared, and swore between his teeth at having to escort the -blonde lady; he spent an interminable time looking for his hat and -exclaiming in the lady's ears that it was a nuisance to go out so late -and go home with everybody. His uncle pulled his ears, and I joined -Raymond, who was exhaling his vexation at the dressing room window. - -"Aren't you going to sing, neighbor?" - -"Is it possible to do anything here, I should like to know? Did you ever -see such confusion? such disorder? I don't know where I am! I've told -Vauvert a hundred times to draw up a programme and paste it on a mirror; -then everything would go off in an orderly way. But, no; he won't listen -to anything! he amuses himself pinching and squeezing such little girls -as he can find in the corners, instead of attending to his concert." - -"It is certainly true that it might be managed better." - -"The idea of giving us a concerto for the 'cello that there's no end to; -just to grate on our ears! And then, I don't care what you may say, a -woman who plays the 'cello is always absurd! It reminds me of a man -darning stockings; and madame la baronne would do much better to stay at -home and darn hers than execute _staccatos_ and _arpeggios_." - -"What do you say? a baroness darn stockings?" - -"Oh! nonsense! a pretty baron he makes! I saw him the other day on -Boulevard du Temple, buying apples at a sou a bag; and he was haggling -too! He bought sausage by the yard for his dinner; and someone who's -been at his house told me that they gave him gooseberries for -refreshment! But this Vauvert's a star! he tries to make us believe that -he entertains princes, ambassadors perhaps! whereas his house is a -veritable Noah's Ark." - -"By the way, you seem to know Madame de Marsan?" - -"Madame de Marsan? yes, to be sure; I go to her parties. She's a fine -woman, rather a flirt, as you must have seen; but she has wit and good -breeding and style; she's a woman who calls herself twenty-eight, and is -really thirty-two. She is known to have had several passions; but as -she doesn't advertise them and is always regardful of decorum, there's -nothing to say: morals before everything. The husband is a good sort of -fellow, very sharp, they say, when his own interests are concerned. He's -in business; but he's not one of those poor devils who run about for a -fortnight to discount a note which will be worth a commission of seven -or eight francs to them; or one of those who offer you with an air of -mystery houses that are advertised in the _Petits-Affiches_. This fellow -knows what he's about, and makes a lot of money. He has a fine country -house, beyond Saint-Denis, in which madame has had a pretty little -theatre arranged; in fact, I am to act there very soon. She's a valuable -acquaintance; for there's lots of fun at her house. I myself have been -there twice, and I know that they think a great deal of me. If you -choose, my dear fellow, I'll take you there; if introduced by me, you -will be warmly welcomed." - -"Thanks; but, as you know, I don't like to be presented in that way." - -Raymond left me, to return to the piano; he had not lost all hope of -getting himself heard. I knew all that I wanted to know concerning -Madame de Marsan. I returned to the salon. I had reason to believe that -the lady was questioning my neighbor about me, and I knew that I need -not be afraid of losing her good opinion through Raymond's description -of me, for he was one of those men who like to pretend that they have -none but the most desirable acquaintances. I was in comfortable -circumstances, and he had probably represented me as very wealthy; I was -born of respectable parents, and he had probably placed me in one of -the oldest families in France; and so on. To be sure, Madame de Marsan -might have been told that I was fickle, inconstant, treacherous; but -those failings never do a man any harm with the ladies. - -A selection had just been performed on the harp; the performer had made -but one mistake, had had to tune her instrument but twice, and had -broken but four strings; we had no cause of complaint. Raymond had left -Madame de Marsan, to find an accompanist, and threatened, if he failed -in his quest, to accompany himself; by dint of hunting, urging, and -entreating, he succeeded in bringing young Martin to the piano; he began -to cough and expectorate, changed the position of the candles, ordered -the windows to be closed, and struck an attitude supposed to represent -Joconde. But a murmur arose on all sides; the young women ran to -Monsieur Vauvert, the young men surrounded his wife; they had been -promised a contradance; it was almost twelve o'clock, and if it was -postponed any longer there would be no dancing. The hosts acceded to the -prayers of their younger guests. - -"We are going to dance!" shouted Vauvert, as the court bailiff cries: -"Silence, please!" - -Instantly everything was in a ferment in the salon; the young men -hastened to engage partners, the chairs were moved away to make room, -and the guests who did not dance were requested to retire to the -corners. - -Raymond stood at the piano with his mouth open; he thought that he must -be mistaken; he could not believe his eyes; I believe that he was -actually going to begin his aria; but instead of the prelude from -_Joconde_, young Martin struck up a figure of Pantalon. My neighbor -could not digest this final blow; he seized his music in a hand which -shook with wrath, and, thrusting it under his arm, rushed across the -salon like a madman, colliding with the dancers, and receiving kicks -from the young men who were in the act of balancing to partners; I am -convinced, however, that he did not feel them. - -"Monsieur Raymond is going away in a rage," observed a lady to Madame -Vauvert, with a laugh; a lady whose hair was dressed _ la_ Ninon, but -had lost its curl and was floating in the air in long wisps, although -she had taken the precaution not to remove her curl papers until she was -on the staircase. - -"Bah! I don't care for that," replied Madame Vauvert; "he bores us to -death with his songs, and with the poetry he insists on reading to us; -it's always the same thing!" - -At that moment, Raymond, whom I supposed to have left the house, -appeared at the door of the salon and called out angrily: - -"My hat, Madame Vauvert, I want my hat, where is it? It's a lamentable -fact that one can never find one's things in your house." - -"Pardi! your hat isn't lost.--Mon Dieu! I don't see my cat! I put her on -a chair by the fireplace. Why did anyone move her--poor Moumoute? The -door of the landing is often open; she's gone out, and she'll be -stolen!--Moumoute! Moumoute!" - -The dancing continued, no heed being paid to Madame Vauvert's -lamentations and Raymond's demands; the dancers were determined to -compensate themselves, by a moment's enjoyment, for several hours of -ennui; and those who were afraid that their turn might not come took the -precaution to move back the hands of the clock while Vauvert's back was -turned and his wife was looking for her cat. - -I invited Madame de Marsan, and after much ceremony she consented to -dance with me. - -"What an extraordinary house!" she said to me. - -"I find it delightful, since I have met you here." - -"But as it is probable that you will not meet me here again, and as I -desire to see you again, I trust, monsieur, that you will do me the -honor of coming to listen to a little music at my house." - -I accepted, as may be imagined; and after the dance was over, I prowled -about the husband, with whom I entered into conversation. I talked of -speculation, houses, chteaux, and the stock market with him; I took -pains, without ostentation, to mention my name, to speak of my family -and my means. In any other house, I should not have done so; but in such -a mixed assemblage, I was not anxious that he should place me on a level -with people, who, although very estimable no doubt, were nothing more -than that; and in the opinion of many men that is not sufficient -distinction. On the whole, I was satisfied that Monsieur de Marsan found -me rather agreeable; it is so easy to catch people by the sensitive -spot--that is to say, when they have one. - -When young women begin to dance, it is much the same as when a poet -begins to recite his verses: there is no reason why they should ever -stop. But Madame Vauvert, thinking that they were making too much noise, -and afraid of angering her landlord, had already said several times: - -"This will be the last." - -But the last never came to an end. - -Friquet, who had returned in high dudgeon because he had been obliged to -escort a lady home, stole behind the dancers and looked at the clock; -then he hastened to inform his uncle that the hands had been set back, -so that they marked only twelve o'clock when it was nearly one. Vauvert -consulted his watch, saw that his nephew was right, and concluded that -it was incumbent on him to show some resolution, and that his dignity -required him to turn his guests out of doors at once. - -He immediately extinguished the lamps in the four corners of the salon, -leaving only a few candles lighted; and the young men were about to -extinguish them as well, and thus make the scene more amusing, when -Vauvert took possession of them and harangued the company thus: - -"I have already told you that it is time to go; my wife is indisposed, -and I am surprised that anyone should continue to dance against our -wishes." - -This courteous speech made everybody laugh, and they hurried into the -dressing room to prepare for departure. But there the confusion and -disorder reached their climax. The ladies called for their shawls, -mantles, bonnets, and slippers; the singers demanded their music or -their instruments; they made mistakes, and many could not find what they -wanted; the young men hovered about the ladies, on the pretext of -assisting them, but really because such crushes are most propitious to -lovers and amateurs. One tied a ribbon, another put on an overshoe, -another held a little foot while the slipper was being removed. Amid the -tumult, mothers called their daughters, husbands their wives, brothers -their sisters. But those ladies were far too busy to answer. They were -whispering, squeezing hands, making appointments, arranging other -meetings; in truth, the moment of departure is not that at which the -guests enjoy themselves least. - -I tried to save Madame de Marsan the trouble of looking for her shawl in -that crowd; I went into the bedroom, and succeeded, not without -difficulty, in reaching the bed, on which the bonnets and wraps were -piled; my hand, seeking a shawl, came in contact with a firm and -well-rounded form, which I was not seeking, but which I embraced as a -matter of habit, and because I thought that it belonged to a lady with -whom I was very intimate. But the lady, who was stooping over the bed, -and whose back only could I see, turned suddenly. Horror! it was not she -whom I thought! I proceeded to entangle myself in apologies, but she -gave me a most tender and amiable smile, which seemed to invite me to -continue. Faith! I admit that I should not have expected it on the part -of the lady in question, who, in the salon, played the prude, the -straitlaced, stern moralist. Trust appearances, who will! I have already -said that I never would; but a great many people say that, and still -allow themselves to be deceived. - -At last everyone had succeeded in finding what he or she sought. -Friquet, who was anxious to go to bed, had been standing a long while on -the landing, candle in hand, ready to light us downstairs. As for the -master and mistress of the house, they had manifested clearly enough -their desire to see the last of us; so we started down. It was quite a -little procession; everyone took the hand of his favorite and descended -the stairs, laughing heartily over the evening's entertainment. The -young men were very noisy, because Vauvert had urged them to be silent -on account of his neighbors. On the second floor, a young man upset the -candlestick that Friquet carried, and we found ourselves in utter -darkness. - -We all roared with laughter. The mammas scolded the perpetrator of the -mischief, the young ladies did the same, but I have reason to believe -that many of them were not very angry. - -"Idiot! he's always doing such things!" Vauvert shouted at his nephew -from the top of the stairs. - -"I didn't do it, uncle," replied the clerk; "somebody knocked my candle -out of my hand on purpose." - -"I not untershtand vy tay do amuse temselfs py making us near fall town -and may pe hurt ourselfs," muttered the Baron de Witcheritche, whom I -believed to be very jealous of his wife, and who was made uneasy by the -darkness. - -"Holt tidt to te rail, my tear," said the baroness, in a flutelike -little voice, "and tague care ov my Shtradifarius." - -"Your Shtradifarius is chust te ting tat makes me frighted." - -We went down carefully and very softly. I held Madame de Marsan's hand, -and I did not complain of the darkness; but the little clerk, who had -relighted his candle at the porter's lodge, returned with his light just -as we reached the lowest stair. I noticed then some changes in the order -of departure; some mantles awry, some faces very much excited, and many -eyes fastened on the ground, doubtless because the light made them -smart; but I do not mean to suggest any implications unfavorable to the -virtue of the ladies in question, married or single. - -The moment to say farewell had arrived. I saw diverse poor fellows who -lived near the Palais-Royal doomed to act as escort to feminine families -from the heart of the Marais. I saw young ladies manoeuvre to take the -arms of their chosen friends; I saw many a wife sigh as she took her -husband's arm. I should have seen much else, no doubt, if it had not -been dark. But Madame de Marsan and her husband were in their carriage; -and he, learning that I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, obligingly offered -me a seat. I accepted without hesitation. Decidedly Monsieur de Marsan -was a most agreeable man. - -"There's no one else!" Friquet shouted to the concierge, as he closed -the porte cochre. - -"That's very lucky," replied the concierge, closing his door. "Past one -o'clock. Your uncle will have notice to quit, I promise you. He makes a -great show, gives evening parties, and keeps people up all night, and -all for nothing! When a man wants to cut such capers, he should have a -house to himself." - - - - -XIV - -THE BOUQUET - - -In the carriage we talked of Monsieur Vauvert's soire musicale. Madame -de Marsan laughed about it a good deal; Monsieur de Marsan shrugged his -shoulders, and said that the mania for making a show was pervading all -classes of society; that it seemed to be no longer possible for people -to enjoy themselves _en famille_; that everybody was struggling to leave -the sphere in which destiny had placed him; that men were becoming more -eager for dissipation every day; that, to satisfy this imperious -craving, the mechanic sacrificed his week's wages, the workingman his -savings, the tradesman his stock in trade, the clerk three-fourths of -his salary; hence embarrassment, borrowing, debts, failures. His -conclusion was that a man should reckon up his income before giving -dinners, receptions, and balls. - -"I should not suppose that Monsieur Vauvert's receptions were likely to -ruin him," said Madame de Marsan. - -"It seems so to you, madame, because you have noticed simply the general -effect of the affair, which, I agree, was not very splendid at first -glance; but for an under clerk those lamps, the candles on the music -stands, the hired piano, the music and the instruments that they sent -out for, and, lastly, the modest refreshments--all those things, madame, -are as extravagant for a government clerk at eighteen hundred francs, as -a magnificent function, where everything is provided in profusion, is -for a wealthy banker. The difference between the banker and the clerk is -that people go about praising the former's party, which they are proud -of having attended, while they make fun of the clerk's soire, to which -they go for the sole purpose of sneering at those who put themselves out -to make people laugh at their expense." - -Monsieur de Marsan was right; there was a husband who spoke with -profound wisdom. I approved what he said: first, because I agreed with -him; secondly, because I had my reasons for always being of his opinion. - -Monsieur de Marsan lived near the beginning of Faubourg Saint-Honor; I -could not repress my desire to laugh when I learned his address, because -it reminded me of that infernal cabman who had taken me to the farther -end of Faubourg Montmartre on the night when I attempted to follow the -carriage; but I instantly attributed my merriment to a memory of the -concert, and, as we all retained some very comical ones, that seemed -perfectly natural. They set me down on Rue Saint-Florentin, after -inviting me to their house to listen, not to a concert, but to a little -music; there is a great difference between the two, for I had to admit -that I had heard no music at Monsieur Vauvert's concert of amateurs. - -Standing at my door, I thought of my new acquaintance; I dared not as -yet say my conquest, but I secretly flattered myself that she soon would -be. Meanwhile, I had not forgotten the charming Caroline, who had given -me an appointment for the next day. My imagination had abundant food for -reverie: what a wellspring of pleasure the future had in store for me! I -could see nothing but roses, and my mind, enchanted, sought to -communicate its enthusiasm to my heart, which did what it could to find -something for itself in all that was going on. I went upstairs without a -light; for it was very late, and Madame Dupont extinguished her lamp at -midnight. I started to open my door; but as I was putting the key in the -lock, my hand came in contact with something--leaves--flowers--why, -someone had put a bouquet there! Ah! I knew who had done it!--I entered -my room; I soon procured a light and could look at my bouquet. It was -beautiful! orange blossoms, a rose or two, some carnations, and all -surrounded by pansies; the bouquet was tied with a small white -bow.--"Dear Nicette!" I thought; "so you still think of me! you are not -ungrateful! Ah, no! you have a warm heart and you are virtuous! What a -pity that, with those two priceless qualities, you were born in obscure -station! Not that I believe that your equals are incapable of -appreciating your virtues, but that I can do no more than admire them. -You will be a treasure to others, but you can be nothing to me; I must -seek such a treasure in high life; there are some there, no doubt, but -they are not all so seductive as you." - -How had she succeeded in leaving that bouquet at my keyhole? If it had -not been so late, I should have gone down and questioned my concierge; -but I had no choice but to wait till morning. Raymond, who saw -everything, had undoubtedly seen the bouquet; but perhaps--he was so -engrossed by his aria from _Joconde_! - -I longed for the morning to come, that I might question Madame Dupont. I -could not tire of smelling Nicette's bouquet and gazing at it in -admiration. I looked at the pansies.--"Ah!" I said to myself; "I -understand: it was gratitude that prompted the gift. Poor child! she -loves her benefactor; that is natural enough; but she is so pretty that -she will soon be besieged by lovers, her heart will speak, and she will -forget me. That is the way such affairs always end."--I carefully placed -my bouquet in water and went to bed. I passed in review the events of -the day. Madame de Marsan and Caroline played a large part therein; they -were both coquettes--in a different way, to be sure, but it was coquetry -all the same. Alas! all the women I had known were coquettes, and I did -not honestly believe that any one of them had loved me; at all events, -it had been only for a moment. What does a sentiment amount to that has -the duration of a mere caprice, and that does not resist the slightest -trial? And my sister insisted that I should marry! Why should I hope to -find in a wife what I had failed to find in a mistress? Of course, the -indissoluble bond, children, duties, the opinion of society, might -prevent my wife from being unfaithful to me; but all those things would -not revive her love when it was once extinct. - -"I will not marry," said I to myself; "I will make the most of -life."--And yet it had seemed to me for some time, amid all my follies, -that I was not perfectly happy. Although fickle, I was sentimental; my -heart was constantly looking about for something to attach itself to; -it was not its fault that it did not find a heart to respond to it. Of -late, I had met none but perfidious, unfaithful women; I used always to -take the initiative in the inevitable separation, but the later ones had -not given me time; to be sure, I had been foolish enough to put them to -the test. I determined to be wiser in future, to take women for what -they were, and to thank fortune when I chanced to fall on my feet. - -Who could say? Perhaps Caroline would love me; perhaps Madame de Marsan -would be less coquettish in due time; perhaps the young flowermaker was -really virtuous. As for the adventures which Raymond attributed to -Madame de Marsan, my neighbor was so evil-tongued that I could not place -any reliance on what he said. - -I lulled myself to sleep with thoughts of my various inamoratas; but, -for some unknown reason, the memory of Nicette was always involved in my -schemes and my hopes. I concluded that it was the smell of her bouquet -that kept her so constantly in my thoughts; but the orange blossoms were -so sweet, that I was unwilling to take them out of my bedroom. What a -charming little attention, to bring me that bouquet and to place it so -that I could not enter my room without taking hold of it! Ah! if women -are coquettish and deceitful, they alone are capable of such -forethought, such amiable attentions, of that delicacy of feeling which -enables them to discover, even in the most trifling circumstance, a -means of giving an additional proof of their love or their friendship. I -went to sleep; but how did it happen that I dreamed neither of Caroline -nor of Madame de Marsan? It was Nicette whom I saw in my dreams, it was -she who engaged all my thoughts. Doubtless the odor of the orange -blossoms continued to remind me of her, even in my sleep. - - - - -XV - -THE DINNER PARTY - - -I was still sleeping when Madame Dupont came to arrange my room. I began -at once to question her, for I was anxious to know if she had seen -Nicette. - -"Did anyone call to see me last evening, Madame Dupont?" - -"No, monsieur; no one." - -"You saw no one come upstairs to my rooms?" - -"You know very well, monsieur, that I wouldn't have let anybody come up, -knowing that you were out." - -It was very strange! how had she succeeded in eluding the concierge's -eyes? She was determined that no one should see her bringing the -nosegay; she thought that it might offend me, and her gift acquired the -greater value in my eyes on that account. To divert my mind from such -thoughts, I recalled the errands my brother-in-law desired me to do. I -went out, leaving Madame Dupont to place in a box all the artificial -flowers that were strewn about my floor; but I told her not to touch the -bouquet, which was on the mantel. It was a fertile source of conjectures -for my concierge. - -My day was fully occupied by the commissions to be executed in various -government offices, whence Dneterre, who was about to build and desired -to consummate various enterprises, hoped to obtain information and -support. I was not sorry to have something to do; the time passed more -rapidly. Do not believe, however, that I was accustomed to spend my -days in absolute idleness; no, I was devoted to the fine arts, -especially poetry and music; and I turned my attention to them with -ardor, when my love-making folly left me the requisite leisure; but I -admit that I had neglected them shamefully for some time past. - -It was time to think about dinner. I did not forget that I had an -appointment for the evening on Boulevard Bondy, near the Chteau d'Eau. -In order to be in the neighborhood, I thought that, instead of dining at -the Palais-Royal as usual, it would be an excellent idea to dine on the -boulevards, where the small theatres are; then I should be close at hand -for the evening. I bent my steps, therefore, toward the Marais. - -When I was on Boulevard du Temple, I had only too great a number of -restaurants to choose from. I knew them all; I was not _en partie fine_; -so that I had no occasion to think of anything except which was the -best, without looking about for the most convenient and most secluded -private dining rooms. I decided in favor of the Cadran-Bleu; the prices -were high there, but ordinarily one could get a good dinner. I walked in -that direction and was just passing the Jardin Turc, when I saw a -gentleman in front of me with a lady on his arm. Raymond's figure was -too easily recognizable for me to mistake it. It was certainly he: his -gait, his huge calves, his gestures--yes, it was he. As for the lady, -her face was hidden under an enormous bonnet; but it seemed to me that I -knew her as well. My neighbor was talking with great earnestness, and I -noticed that he pressed her arm to his side; he had every appearance of -being _en bonne fortune_. I was curious to know where they were going; -and I was determined to obtain a glimpse, if possible, of the charmer's -face, unseen by Raymond; for, as I have said, her figure was not -unfamiliar to me. But they crossed the boulevard and entered a -restaurant on the corner of Rue d'Angoulme--the Mridien; I remembered -that the waiters there were young women, and that it was a very -comfortable place; at least, it was so some years before. Why should I -not follow my neighbor? Perhaps chance would give me a glimpse of his -companion; and Raymond does so much boasting about his mistresses, who, -according to him, are always princesses and of rare beauty, that I was -not sorry to have an opportunity to see one of those marvels of -creation. - -I left the Cadran-Bleu at my right, and, resigned to the prospect of -dining less satisfactorily, entered the Mridien and asked for a private -room. I was taken to it by a waitress. We passed a room where I heard -Raymond's voice, and I told my conductress to give me the adjoining one. -The partition between me and the room which Raymond and his flame -occupied was so thin that I could hear their voices when they did not -speak in undertones. I left my door open, too; and as theirs was not -closed, for their table was being laid, I could catch from time to time -a portion of what my neighbor said; for he had the unfortunate habit of -speaking very loud--a habit contracted in order to attract attention to -himself, and retained even in his incognito. Judging from what I heard, -he was putting himself out to please his guest, whose tastes he -constantly consulted in ordering the dinner. I heard him read the bill -of fare to her three times; she had much difficulty in making up her -mind; she didn't like anything; she wasn't hungry; it made no difference -to her; but she asked for a thousand things that were not on the bill. -I readily concluded, from her affectations and fussing, that my neighbor -had not made a very distinguished conquest; indeed, one would have said -that she was making fun of him and that it amused her to annoy him. I -was convinced that he would have nothing to show for his dinner. - -Every time that I heard the woman's voice it recalled confused memories. -Yes, I was sure that I knew her, but I could not tell who she was; I had -known so many that I might be pardoned for confusing them in my memory; -and then, I caught only a few detached words. No matter! I was -determined to see her, and I would find a way! - -It seemed that Raymond decided at last to order the dinner himself, for -I heard nothing more from him. The lady hummed a comic-opera air; that -voice was certainly familiar to me. - -I heard the bell, and the waitress appeared. Raymond gave her the card -and ordered dinner at once, and the girl went downstairs. The lady -expressed a wish for some fromage fouett, which my neighbor had not -ordered, and he ran after the girl to add it to his order. As he passed -my room, the door of which I had been careful to leave ajar, he glanced -in and saw me. - -"What do I see? my dear friend Dorsan!" - -"Himself, Monsieur Raymond. What on earth are you doing here?" - -He entered the room with an air of mystery, walking on tiptoe, and -pointed, with a smile, to the adjoining room. - -"I am in there," he said, trying to speak in an undertone; "next door." - -"Oho!" - -"With--someone." - -"Ah! I understand! an amourette, a _partie fine_!" - -"Exactly." - -"You're a terrible fellow. They accuse me of being fickle, a deceiver, -but I am sure that you're a hundred times worse than I." - -"I won't deny that I'm rather given to changing!" - -"And the lady?" - -"Oh! charming, delicious! a regular swell, with her carriage and livery! -We are here incog." - -"So I imagine." - -"She has granted me to-day a favor she has refused a thousand other -men." - -"What a lucky dog you are! You arouse my curiosity; might I not see -her?" - -"Oh! impossible, my dear fellow, impossible! she's a woman who is most -particular about her reputation. If she knew that I had talked about her -to one of my friends, she would be deadly angry with me and would never -forgive me." - -"Very good, I'll say no more about it; I see that it would be no -kindness to you. I congratulate you, none the less, on such a brilliant -conquest." - -"It's worth what it costs, that's true. You know that in the matter of -women I am rather particular; I don't take up with the first comer; I -insist on good form and style." - -I thought that Monsieur Raymond was trying to be sarcastic. - -"Above all things, I like to subdue those who are cruel," he continued; -"with them there are at least some merit and firmness--you understand. -But I wager that my charmer is getting impatient; adieu, neighbor! love -and pleasure call me." - -"Don't keep them waiting." - -Raymond left my room, his bosom swelling with delight at being seen _en -bonne fortune_, and returned to his own, closing the door behind him. -All that he had said increased my curiosity; I was convinced that he had -been telling me fables, as usual. I gave no credit to his tales of great -ladies; and I could see him cudgelling his brains for lies while he was -talking to me; indeed, he seemed to go more into detail than his custom -was, the better to pull the wool over my eyes.--You were not sly enough -to catch me, my dear Raymond! it was because you had happened to see me -with a flower girl that you put on so many airs and hurled epigrams at -me; but I had a shrewd idea that your great swell was not worth my -humble Nicette. - -My window looked on the boulevard, and, while I waited for my soup, I -opened the sash to enjoy the prospect. I was not _en partie fine_, -consequently had no desire for a subdued light. I observed that my -neighbor's blinds were not lowered, and my conclusion was strengthened -that Raymond's affairs had not progressed very far. - -As I watched the passers-by, I saw a young man whom I knew stop in front -of our restaurant. It was the same Gerville who lived in our house, and -with whom Mademoiselle Agathe passed the memorable night when I offered -hospitality to Nicette. What was he doing there? He stopped and looked -this way and that, as if he were expecting or seeking someone. - -The window in my neighbors' Good! perhaps the lady would come there for -a breath of air and I could see her face. But what was the matter? I -heard an exclamation, and the window was suddenly closed; something -extraordinary must have happened. In truth, I seemed to be becoming -almost as inquisitive as Raymond. - -I walked away from the window; a warm discussion was in progress in the -next room. Faith! they could do what they chose! I proposed to dine, for -I was hungry. At that very moment the waitress appeared with my soup. -But what a racket! Raymond suddenly rushed out of his room and into -mine, pale, haggard, trembling, and in his haste jostled the servant and -caused her to spill my soup on the floor. - -"Oh! mon Dieu! what a mess, monsieur!" exclaimed the girl, picking up -her tureen. "You have made me burn myself awfully--all that hot soup on -my foot! I know that I shall have big blisters there!" - -"It's all right, my girl; I'll pay for your soup." - -"And what about my apron, which is ruined, and my leg?" - -"I'll pay you for everything!" Raymond replied, with no idea what he was -saying; and he pushed the girl out of the room and carefully closed the -door. - -"Well, well! what in the devil's the matter with you, Monsieur Raymond? -you look as if you'd had a fright!" - -"Ah! my dear friend, I have good reason to!--something has happened--a -circumstance--I am in a terrible plight. Wait till I look out of the -window; but first be good enough to draw the curtain so that he can't -see me." - -"Are you going mad, neighbor?" - -Raymond did not answer me; he went to the window and looked out, taking -care to conceal himself behind the curtain, and putting his head out -with the utmost precaution. I saw that he became paler than ever. - -"He's there," he said at last. - -"Who, pray?" - -"Gerville." - -"Oh, yes! so he is. But what difference does that make to you?" - -"It makes a great difference to me. Don't you know that he is horribly -jealous and quite capable of going to terrible lengths?" - -"What of it?" - -"Understand that he's here on my account. I am sure that he is watching -for me; and he has some reason to, for I am with his mistress." - -"What! can it possibly be Mademoiselle Agathe whom you chose to -transform into a lady with a carriage and livery of her own?" - -"What would you have, my dear fellow? I did it in order to disguise her -better, to spare her reputation." - -"Oh! so far as that goes, you may take my word that she has nothing to -fear. Ha! ha! ha! Monsieur Raymond, what you must have are cruel -creatures, women of a certain style!" - -"You may jest about it later, my friend, but save me now, I implore you; -my only hope is in you to extricate me from the frightful position I am -in." - -"For heaven's sake, explain yourself!" - -"Gerville will come into this house, I am perfectly sure. Somebody must -have told him that I am here. Be obliging enough to take my place for a -moment, and give me yours in this room; I will leave my door open, he -will see that I am alone, and his suspicions will vanish." - -"But why don't you lock yourself in with your inamorata? he won't break -down your door." - -"He is quite capable of it! or else he would wait for me on the -boulevard; and if I should go out with Agathe, you can judge for -yourself what a scandalous scene there would be. Furthermore, we live in -the same house, you know; and if he has discovered anything, how shall I -ever dare to go home? He's just the man to lie in wait for me on the -stairs at night." - -"Then why in the devil did you meddle with his mistress?" - -"What can you expect? a moment of folly. It was that morning I waited -with her on our landing that it took me." - -"Ah, yes! the morning you both played the spy on me." - -"Oh! great God! he has come in!" cried Raymond, who had glanced out on -the boulevard; "save me, my friend--in pity's name! Go--I'll join you -later." - -Giving me no time to reply, Raymond jammed my hat over my ears, dragged -and pushed me out of my private room, and locked himself in. I made no -resistance, and without any idea as yet as to what I proposed to do for -my neighbor, whose most distinctive quality courage certainly was not, I -entered the room where Agathe was. She uttered a cry of surprise when -she saw me. - -"Mon Dieu! it's Eugne! Is it you? is it really you?" - -"Why, to be sure it's I, sacrificing myself to save poor Raymond, who's -in such a fright that it will make him ill." - -"Ha! ha! ha! I can't get over it!" - -"Hush! he's in there; he can hear you laugh, and I fancy that he would -take it ill of you just at this moment." - -"Really! what do I care for that? Ha! ha! ha! Do you think that I'm in -love with Raymond, I should like to know? Oh! he is much too stupid, -really! and he tries to play the Lovelace! I couldn't stand it any -longer! When I opened the window and saw Gerville on the boulevard, I -gave a shriek and stepped back into the room as quick as I could; for I -don't want Gerville to see me with Raymond. Not that he's jealous, but -he might not like it. Do you know what I did? It came into my head to -tell my old idiot that Gerville is fiendishly jealous, and that he had -been suspicious of him ever since he learned that we spent two hours -together on the landing, and that I was certain that he was on the -boulevard for the sole purpose of watching us. The more I said, the more -frightened my adorer became, for he has even more affection for his own -person than for mine. And when I added that Gerville was quite capable -of stabbing him,--ha! ha! the poor man took his hat, and is running -still, I fancy. Ha! ha! ha! but it's very kind of him to send me such an -agreeable companion. Meanwhile, I would like to know what has become of -Gerville; I think that he was just waiting for one of his friends." - -"Hush! somebody is coming upstairs. Raymond is opening his door; let's -listen. Gerville is speaking." - -We put our ears close to the door, which we very softly opened an inch -or two, and overheard the following conversation: - -"Ah! it's neighbor Raymond." - -"Himself, at your service. How are you?" - -"Very well. How's this? are you dining alone in a private room?" - -"Yes; I have something on my mind, some important business, and I was -glad not to be disturbed." - -"In that case, I'll leave you. I am waiting for somebody who agreed to -meet me on the boulevard here; but he's late, and I am going to dine. -Good-day, neighbor; and a good appetite!" - -"Your servant!" - -Gerville closed the door of Raymond's room and went into another, -passing ours as he did so. - -"Well, mademoiselle," I said to Agathe, "choose; to which of these -gentlemen will you give the preference?" - -"Oh! I have a delicious idea!" - -"Some crazy scheme, I'll be bound, for you think of no other kind." - -"This will be unique. Help me, my dear Eugne, I beg you." - -Without another word to me, Agathe began to stride up and down the room; -she pushed the chairs about, threw some of them down, and, amid the -uproar, cried out from time to time: - -"Don't be angry with me, my friend! I assure you that you are mistaken. -I give you my word that I haven't seen Raymond; that I don't care for -him! Ask Dorsan; he invited me to dinner, because he was expecting a -lady." - -I began to understand Agathe's plan; she proposed to make Raymond think -that Gerville was with us. To second her, I also made noise enough for -two, and attempted now and then to imitate Gerville's voice. We stopped -at last, tired out by our comedy; Agathe made me a sign which I -understood; I left the room, the door of which she locked behind me, and -stole on tiptoe into Raymond's, where I found him shivering and half -dead with terror in front of a beefsteak with potatoes. I locked the -door before approaching him, and put a finger to my lips; we had the -aspect of two conspirators. Raymond spoke so low at this time that I -could hardly hear him. - -"He's in there," I said, pointing to the next room. - -"Oh! I know it only too well; I heard him. But how did it happen?" - -"We thought he had gone downstairs, and we opened our door; but he was -on the watch; he saw Agathe and came in. Then there was a terrible -scene, for he suspected that she came here with you; I'm not the one of -whom he is jealous." - -"Parbleu! I know only too well that it's I. I saw plainly enough just -now that he didn't believe what I told him. He had doubts; perhaps he -saw us coming along the boulevard." - -"That is quite possible; you are so infernally imprudent! When you -arrange such a party as this, you should take a cab, and enter the -restaurant by the rear door." - -"That's so; you are right; we ought to have come in from behind! but I -promise you that I'll go out that way." - -"He thought at first that I was in your confidence, that I was here -solely to help you. In fact, I am exposing myself to some risk in your -behalf." - -"Ah! my dear Dorsan! never while I live shall I forget what I owe to -you!" - -"However, things are beginning to calm down. Agathe has succeeded in -making him listen to reason; she told him that she came here for no -other purpose than to watch him; she's playing the jealous lover now." - -"Oh! that's delicious! charming! these women always find a way out of -everything!" - -"I should prefer to let them dine alone; but he won't listen to it. I -left the room on the pretext of ordering dinner." - -"It's all ordered, my dear friend; and I shall take good care to pay for -it. I don't mean to put you to any expense, when you are sacrificing -yourself to help me." - -"As you please; I'll give the word to the waitress, and we will dine." - -"Go, my noble-hearted friend; tell her to be sure not to mention me." - -"Never fear." - -"I have but one fear now." - -"What's that?" - -"Just now, with the idea of giving Agathe a surprise, I amused myself, -while her back was turned, by slipping my picture into her reticule." - -"Your picture?" - -"Yes; I mean one of my silhouettes, you know, which I had pasted on a -pink card, with a border of little cupids. If Agathe should happen to -drop that when she takes out her handkerchief; or, not knowing what it -is, should take it into her head to look at it----" - -"Peste! that would make a pretty row! Gerville would surely say then -that I was in collusion with you to deceive him." - -"Try, my friend, try to prevent Agathe from blowing her nose!" - -"I can't promise that, but I'll motion to her to blow it in her napkin; -that cannot compromise you." - -"That's the very thing." - -"Adieu! a longer absence might arouse suspicion." - -Once more I left Raymond, who locked himself into his room. I returned -to Agathe. The waitress arrived with the dinner; she seemed surprised at -the change of cavalier, but two or three words in her ear and a -five-franc piece in her hand speedily retained her in our interest. She -promised to tell the stout gentleman that there were three in our party, -and thereupon she left us, overjoyed to be able to amuse herself at the -expense of the man who had upset a tureen of soup on her feet. - -"Now, let us dine," said I, taking my seat at the table beside Agathe; -"no one can deny that we have earned it. I hardly expected to dine with -you, I admit." - -"Nor I! but impromptu pleasures are always the best." - -"A month ago we had already become reasonable and sedate in our -tte--ttes." - -"I tell you, we did well to part; we are much better pleased to see each -other." - -"Oh! I know that you are passionately fond of variety." - -"No, my friend, not so much of variety as of forbidden fruit; and when I -think that Gerville is at our right, Raymond at our left, and that I -have succeeded in avoiding the necessity of eating in his company the -dinner he ordered--ha! ha! ha!" - -"Don't laugh so loud!" - -"Oh, yes! that will reassure him, don't you see? he will think that -Gerville's in good humor.--Ha! ha! ha! it will bring back his appetite." - -Agathe was in the wildest spirits; she was compelled to hold her napkin -over her mouth to stifle her outbursts of merriment; the pleasure of -deceiving two men at once gave to her face an unfamiliar expression; she -had never been so pretty in my eyes, I confess. She teased me, pinched -me, caressed me, threw her arms about me. Ah! Mademoiselle Agathe, you -were a perfidious creature, but most seductive! Moreover, for several -days, I had been making love with my eyes alone, and I felt that it was -incumbent on me to make our mystification of Raymond complete.--Ah! my -poor neighbor! if you but knew what ardor Agathe showed in mystifying -you! - -But we heard someone coming upstairs; it was our waitress. That young -woman had an abundance of tact and penetration; she turned the knob at -least thrice before she opened our door. She brought the first course. I -tasted the wine; it was Volnay, first quality. Gad! my neighbor was a -connoisseur! - -"Oh! you'll have a fine dinner," laughed the girl; "the gentleman didn't -forget anything: champagne, dessert, and the _coup de milieu_!" - -"Aha! so we're to have the _coup de milieu_!" said Agathe; "we musn't -forget that, my friend, do you hear?" - -"Never fear.--By the way, my girl, did our neighbor question you?" - -"Yes; I told him that madame was dining with two gentlemen; he seems a -little easier in his mind." - -"That is good." - -We did full justice to Raymond's dinner; it was dainty and toothsome. In -a quiet moment, I asked Agathe to tell me how it happened that she had -come there to dine in a private room with my neighbor, whom she did not -like at all. - -"I did it to have a better chance to make fun of him," she replied. -"Ever since the day we waited on your landing to see your little flower -girl, Raymond has been pleased to make love to me. He pesters me with -his declarations and his billets-doux, which I receive just to show them -to the girls in the shop; and they make a lot of sport for us, for his -style's as ridiculous as his person. He had asked me twenty times for an -assignation, when I happened to meet him to-day near Porte Saint-Denis. -I was just going home; I had been to Gerville's, but didn't find him. -Raymond urged me, begged me, to dine with him at a restaurant. I refused -at first; but the temptation to make a fool of him, to laugh at his -expense, in short, to have some sport, led me to change my mind. -Besides, you know what a heedless creature I am. I didn't expect to meet -Gerville, for whom I care very little, however. So I accepted, and -allowed myself to be conducted to a private room by poor Raymond, who -believed that his triumph was assured, whereas I never had the slightest -intention of granting him any favors." - -"Here's to his health!" - -"With all my heart." - -"Is this the _coup de milieu_?" - -"One moment! how fast you go! we haven't got to it yet. This vol-au-vent -is delicious, and so is this filet saut, with madeira and truffles." - -"And this salmi of partridges, also with truffles. Ah! poor Raymond! do -you see his game? he ordered truffles in everything!" - -The waitress arrived with the rum and the next course. - -"Good Lord!" exclaimed Agathe; "truffles with champagne sauce! why, -he'll kill us with 'em! What is our neighbor eating?" - -"Chicken, with rice, madame." - -"Good! that's very nourishing; give him some prunes for dessert; they're -an emollient." - -The girl left us. We enjoyed the truffles, the chicken, and the crabs, -whose claws Agathe wanted to send to Raymond. We did not forget the -_coup de milieu_; my companion thought a great deal of that, and so did -I. With his dinner _de bonne fortune_, that philandering Raymond had put -the devil into us; he evidently thought truffles a necessity in his -_parties fines_! But, by sending me to take his place with Agathe, he -had allotted me a terrific task! - -"Avenge yourself," she kept saying to me, "avenge yourself, Eugne; you -know that Raymond is responsible for our having seen your little vestal -leave your rooms; you know, too, that he used to make remarks to the -people in the house when I came to see you; you know that by his -inquisitiveness and chattering he has made trouble between you and -several women. Avenge yourself; still avenge yourself!" - -What terrible creatures women are when it is a question of vengeance! -Agathe still urged me, and yet my spleen was rapidly vanishing. Luckily, -the girl brought the dessert. Champagne, fromage la vanille, biscuits - la rose, gele au marasquin, and Madame Amphoux's liqueur des Iles. I -was lost! Raymond was determined to have my life! - -"I would like to know what he's doing now," said Agathe; "just go and -speak to him." - -I left the room, and she held the door ajar to listen; I coughed gently -at Raymond's door, which he instantly opened. - -"Well! how far have you got?" he asked. - -"Oh! everything is going along nicely, very nicely! we are eating -dessert." - -"And Gerville?" - -"Oh! he's forgotten everything!" - -"I was afraid that he would make a scene with Agathe. I thought I heard -groans and sighs." - -"They were of repentance and love; and then, she still pretends to be -jealous; but I see plainly enough that she is thinking only of you." - -"Oh! she adores me, my friend; I can't doubt that." - -"Your dinner is delicious; you do things very well, Monsieur Raymond." - -"Yes, yes; I ordered it for a purpose! I expected to partake of it with -her!" - -"She knows that you ordered it, and she is just as much obliged to you. -I can see in her eyes that she doesn't eat a truffle without thinking of -you." - -"Dear Agathe! But I hear laughter, it seems to me." - -"Yes, that is she. She laughs with her lips, to deceive him; but the -fromage fouett awaits me; adieu, my friend!" - -"What! haven't you drunk the champagne yet!" - -"Not yet." - -"But you look rather heated." - -"It's the _coup de milieu_ that gives me that appearance." - -"Tell me, had I better go away before or after you?" - -"Why, before--that would be the wiser way." - -"I'll take a stroll in the garden of the Caf Turc, in front of the -pavilion that bears a crescent." - -"I can see it from here." - -"If by any chance Gerville should leave you, or if he should take Agathe -away, join me there." - -"Agreed." - -"I will wait for you, then. Au revoir, my dear neighbor! I beg you to -excuse me for giving you so much trouble. What you are doing for me -to-day is an act of genuine friendship. I have but one further request -to make; keep an eye on my silhouette! motion to Agathe not to touch her -handbag. Do this for me, my friend." - -"I have done it already." - -"No matter; do it again, for my peace of mind." - -"I will try; au revoir!" - -I returned to Agathe, who laughed till the tears came. I had not as yet -thought of mentioning the silhouette to her; that was the bouquet for -dessert. My neighbor's profile was pasted on a pink card, and we saw two -lines written at the bottom. Poetry of Raymond's composition: that -should be a curiosity. - - "My profile with these little Loves is surrounded, - Since I feel every day, love, for thee love unbounded." - -Ingenious, in very truth! worthy of Berthellemot! But as we noticed that -one of the little Loves was standing on his nose, we concluded that it -should read "I smell," instead of "I feel." Agathe proposed at first to -stick my neighbor's likeness on the mirror in our dining room; but she -changed her mind. She put it carefully away, intending to have copies -made of it, which she proposed to enclose in amorous circulars composed -from Raymond's billets-doux, and to send them to all the milliner's -apprentices of her acquaintance, taking care to write at the bottom the -address of the original of the portrait. - -The champagne finished what the stimulating dinner had begun; we were in -the mood to say and do all sorts of foolish things. Agathe stuffed -herself with sweetmeats and jelly; I drew the corks; the wine foamed and -sparkled, and soon passed from our glasses to our lips; we no longer -knew what we were saying, but we knew very well what we were doing! -Agathe threw aside all restraint; and if Raymond was listening, surely -he must have thought that we were fighting. - -But the champagne, which effervesces when it is first poured out, will -not effervesce again unless it is well shaken, and in due time refuses -to effervesce at all. In like manner, readers, the volcanoes which have -displayed the greatest activity become extinct! In like manner, readers -of the gentler sex, those seductive fires which your lovely eyes emit, -and to which you owe so many conquests, will die away. Everything has -its day, alas! in nature; everything falls to ruin and decay; everything -dies. It is the universal law; for that we are born, and each step in -life is a step toward the grave; there is no possibility there of -arranging compromises. - - "Death hath rigors unexampled; - Vainly pray we to her; - The cruel creature stuffs her ears - And lets us shout at will. - The poor man in his thatch-roofed cottage - Is subject to her laws; - The guard who stands at the Louvre gates - Protects not kings from her." - -I cannot say how the champagne led me to this quotation; however, I am -sure that you will not take it ill of me; these lines are never -misplaced, and I would like, indeed, to have been the author of them. - -We had become virtuous then, in action at all events. I looked at my -watch; almost eight o'clock! The deuce! and my rendezvous. The champagne -had not entirely deprived me of memory, but I confess that Agathe was -responsible for the loss of a large part of my zeal. - -Raymond must have been on the watch at the Caf Turc for a long while; -as for Gerville, we had seen him leave the house more than an hour -before; so that there was nothing to detain us. My companion donned her -bonnet and shawl and tried to assume a demure and modest air, which she -was unable to master, even by lowering her eyes. I did what I could to -maintain a grave demeanor and a steady gait; that infernal champagne -always did go to my head! However, we could safely show ourselves on -the boulevard; we were only a little giddy. - -We left the Mridien, where Raymond had paid for everything. The hostess -and waitresses saluted us with smiling faces. - -"Is there anything amusing in our looks?" I asked Agathe. - -"No; but do you suppose that those people don't divine that we've been -making a fool of Raymond? Perhaps they think he's my husband." - -"Oh! that would be rather too much!" - -"Bah! such things have been seen." - -"Here we are at the Caf Turc; shall we go in?" - -"What for?" - -"To relieve Raymond, who's doing sentry duty there." - -"Let him stay there; I've no desire to be bored any more with his love; -I have had enough of it. Everything has turned out as I wanted; but as -such adventures never happen twice, I assure you that he will never -inveigle me into a private dining room again." - -"Poor Raymond! This _partie fine_ will have been very profitable to him, -won't it? But here's the Chteau d'Eau; someone is waiting for me here, -and I must leave you." - -"What! already?" - -"Our play is ended, my dear girl; we can be of no further assistance to -each other; let us not postpone our separation until ennui succeeds -pleasure, and the fumes of the champagne have entirely vanished; we -shall retain a pleasant memory of this meeting, at all events." - -"Adieu, then, my dear Eugne! may we enjoy ourselves as much when we -next meet!" - -Agathe went her way, and I started to make the circuit of the Chteau -d'Eau. - - - - -XVI - -THE ROSE WITHOUT THORNS - - -Six times I had walked around the pond. From time to time I halted in -front of the lions, which I contemplated from every point of view; then, -for variety's sake, I listened to the plash of the water as it fell into -the passage through which it flows back to the canals. All this was most -entertaining, no doubt, and still I began to weary of it. The sentinel -watched me closely; doubtless he began to look upon me as a suspicious -character. - -It grew dark, and I was on the point of going away, when I saw coming -toward me a woman in a little cap. Was it she at last? I dared not -flatter myself that it was; I had been mistaken so many times, for my -eyesight is not very good; but she continued to approach me. Yes, it was -really she. Caroline accosted me with a smiling face; she was not in her -best clothes; but there was a certain daintiness in her costume: her cap -was neatly tied, and her hair had been in curl papers all day, I would -have sworn; a woman does not take so much pains for a man to whom she -does not intend to listen. The girl seemed to me a sly minx enough! But -although the champagne had made me even more reckless than usual, I was -not inclined to offer my arm to a grisette, in a cap, within the walls -of Paris. - -"I was beginning to lose all hope of seeing you," I said. - -"Why? it's only a quarter past eight, and I can't get away from my shop -any earlier." - -"Let us go for a stroll in the fields." - -"In the fields? oh, no! it's too late. I can't be out later than nine; -my aunt would scold me." - -"That's a very tiresome aunt of yours. Let us go in somewhere." - -"No, I don't want to. Oh! if I should be seen with you!" - -I did not choose to tell her that I was no more anxious than she to -exhibit myself on the boulevard with her, for, after all, there were -some social conventions which I did not care to defy. She wore an apron -and a cap, and that fact annoyed me greatly. Certainly I think no more -of a milliner than of a flowermaker, but Agathe was dressed as a lady, -and I could afford to offer her my arm; a bonnet and shawl make a vast -difference in a woman; and that is one of the petty foibles to which a -young man has to submit when he goes into society, even though he -despise them. If Nicette had met me at noon instead of at midnight, I -certainly should not have escorted her to Madame Jrme's on foot. - -"Suppose we walk a little on Rue des Marais," said Caroline; "I am not -so much afraid of being seen there." - -"Very well." - -That suggestion was most welcome to me. We went down the stairs, took -the Passage du Wauxhall, and in a moment we were on Rue des Marais, a -street most favorable for sentimental promenades. Mademoiselle Caroline -seemed to know the best places. - -The subject of our conversation may be divined: between two lovers, -between a gallant and a coquette, between a pretty woman and a comely -youth, between a young man and a grisette, the same subject is always -discussed; they talk of love and nothing else. For centuries, love has -formed the staple subject of conversation between man and woman; many -observations must have been made thereupon, and still the theme is not -exhausted. To be sure, everyone treats it in his own way, but the end in -view is always the same, is it not? - -The fumes of the champagne led me to discuss the subject rather -cavalierly; Mademoiselle Caroline, who probably had not dined so -sumptuously as I had, stood on her dignity. I could obtain nothing from -her; she kept her aunt constantly to the fore, complaining of the -severity with which she was treated; but as she had no means of -providing for herself, she must needs submit to necessity. - -I fancied that I could divine the girl's ambition; she loved liberty, -referred with a sigh to the matter of bonnets and dresses, and seemed to -be as sick of her aunt as of her shop. I afforded her a glimpse of a -possible means of becoming free and happy; I dropped a word or two -concerning a nicely furnished little room of which she would be -mistress, where she could work as she chose, where, in short, everything -would be subject to her wishes. It was all very alluring, and -Mademoiselle Caroline listened very attentively; she did not reply in -words, but she sighed and looked down. I talked of dresses, theatres, -pleasure parties; she looked at me with a smile, and allowed me to steal -a very affectionate kiss. I had found her weak side: the girl was -disgusted with her present life; she longed to be her own mistress; in a -word, she wanted to have a chamber of her own. Those little grisettes -are all alike; that is what they all aspire to; as if when they once had -lodgings of their own their fortunes were made. I saw that the -flowermaker cherished that aspiration, and that until it was fulfilled -she would accord me no favors. That denoted, not love exactly, but -foresight and shrewdness. What should I do? Faith! one more foolish -thing. Caroline was fascinating; perhaps gratitude would attach her to -me. Gratitude, because I desired to seduce her! you will say. I agree -that it is hardly the fitting word, but observe that I gave her an -opportunity to reflect at leisure. - -"Caroline, does your aunt need you to support her?" - -"No, monsieur; on the contrary, I am sure that she wouldn't be at all -sorry to have me provided for." - -"I understand. And you have no other relations?" - -"No, monsieur." - -"And you two would part without regret?" - -"Oh, yes, indeed! for we often quarrel; and if I had been able to have a -room of my own, I'd have done it long ago." - -"In that case, you shall be in your own quarters to-morrow." - -"What, monsieur! do you mean it?" - -She jumped for joy, then checked herself, because she thought that she -ought not to let me see how delighted she was, but that it was incumbent -on her to make some show of hesitation. - -"But, monsieur, I don't know whether I ought to accept." - -"What is there to prevent?" - -"What will people say?" - -"It seems to me that that ought not to worry you so much as your aunt; -and as you are not afraid of making her angry, what do you care for what -strangers may say?" - -"That's so, monsieur; it makes no difference at all to me; besides, -several friends of mine have done it, and been no worse off for it." - -"Oh! there's no lack of examples. And so, my dear girl, be all ready at -this time to-morrow night. I will come here for you. Make up a little -bundle of whatever you need most, and I will take you to your room." - -"Well, as you insist upon it, until to-morrow! I'll be ready." - -"By the way, one more question. Who is that Monsieur Jules you were with -at Tivoli?" - -"Oh! he's a very well-behaved young fellow, who takes me out to walk -sometimes with my aunt." - -"I believe you; but even if he's a hundred times more well-behaved than -you say, you must promise me not to receive him at your room, and not to -go to walk with him any more." - -"Never fear; I know that I mustn't do that, and I don't mean to annoy -you in any way." - -"You are a dear girl; so it's decided, is it?" - -"Yes; until to-morrow; it's late and I must go." - -I took an earnest of our bargain from Caroline's lips; and she hurried -away, doubtless to prepare for the coming change in her situation. - -So I had arranged to keep Mademoiselle Caroline! The word had an ill -sound in my ears; in general, it is understood to refer to those old -libertines, ugly, stupid, and infirm, whom fortune alone has favored, -and who obtain by the power of gold favors which others often have -obtained without effort. Those men are rarely loved, and are almost -always deceived; I myself had taken enjoyment at their expense; and I -was going to keep Caroline! No, I was going to establish her in -lodgings, that was all; I might perhaps make her a little present now -and then, but she must continue to work; I had no inclination to gratify -all her whims; therefore, I was her lover, not her keeper. - -We always endeavor to look at our own actions in the most favorable -light; moreover, Caroline was really pretty; I had been sighing for her -many days, and at last my hopes were to be fulfilled. I persuaded myself -that she loved me, although I had detected nothing in her conduct to -demonstrate it; but it is so pleasant to flatter one's self that one has -aroused that sentiment! She was a flirt, but I would steady her; she -would see no one but me, go out with no one but me; she would do -whatever I desired, and she would be faithful to me; that is the way I -arranged matters in my mind. - -The next morning I considered what I had to do; I had no time to lose. I -dressed in haste, and as I closed my door I ran into Raymond, who was -coming to pay me a visit, in his morning gown. - -"Going out already?" he said. - -"Yes, neighbor; I have a great deal to do to-day." - -"The devil! I wanted to talk with you." - -"You must wait until another time." - -"You didn't join me yesterday at the Caf Turc; I waited in the garden -till ten o'clock." - -"I am very sorry. Adieu!" - -"But I say, what about my picture? Has Agathe my picture?" - -I had ceased to listen, and was at the foot of the stairs. I scoured the -neighborhood in search of a suitable room. I wanted one of which I could -have immediate possession, and one that was not far from my own -lodgings. I had not succeeded in finding what I desired,--they were all -either too high up, or too dark, or too dirty,--and I was walking along -with my nose in the air, looking for signs, when, as I paused in front -of a porte cochre, I heard a faint cough near me. It seemed to me to be -a simulated cough; I turned, and saw Nicette. I was within two yards of -her stand and had no idea of it. Nicette looked at me, then lowered her -eyes; she dared not bow to me or speak to me by daylight. Poor child! At -that moment I remembered her bouquet, which I had entirely forgotten; I -had never thanked her for her thoughtfulness. I walked up to her, and, -as I selected a few flowers, told her in an undertone how deeply touched -I was by her remembrance. She blushed with pleasure, and I walked away -followed by her eyes. - -At last I found what I wanted, on Rue Caumartin; two small rooms which -were very neat and clean, very light, and could be occupied at once. It -only remained to furnish them; and with plenty of money nothing is so -easy. I hastened to an upholsterer's, bought all that I required, and -had it sent to the house with me. In less than three hours the little -suite was completely furnished. At first I intended to supply only what -was strictly necessary, but my self-esteem interfered; I determined to -give Caroline a pleasant surprise; she must have an easy-chair for -resting, and a sofa for us two. A pretty woman must have plenty of -mirrors; but, above all else, she must have a dressing table and a -comfortable bed. She must have curtains to shield her from the gaze of -her neighbors; and they must be lined, to lessen the glare of the sun; -lastly, she must have a little clock, so that we should not forget the -time while talking of love, and I did not expect to talk of anything -else to Caroline. All these little details carried me much further than -I had at first proposed; but I would try to economize in some other -direction, and those were extraordinary expenses and of infrequent -occurrence. - -At last everything was ready; I had the keys of the apartment. There was -no concierge in the house; that meant one less spy. But I must provide -for everything; Caroline would come that evening to take up her abode in -that quarter, which was unfamiliar to her; I must, at the very least, be -prepared to offer her some supper; surely there was a restaurant in the -neighborhood, and I would go at once to order a dainty repast. But had I -thought of everything that required to be done before my mistress should -take possession of her new abode? would she have everything she needed? -I decided to place fifteen louis in the commode, with which she could -provide for her immediate wants; for in the first days of her changed -position she would hardly feel like working, and that would be very -excusable, a girl's head is so easily turned! But we become accustomed -to everything, and it seemed to me that if my pretty flowermaker chose -to be respectable and orderly, and to behave herself, she might be very -happy. - -I went to the restaurant and ordered a dainty supper for nine o'clock. -Then I set about trying to kill time until evening; it was dinner time, -but I was not hungry; no matter! I determined to dine, as that would -give me some occupation. When I had dined, it was six o'clock; I had -still two hours and a half before me, which would never end, I thought. -I decided to take a walk; it occurred to me that I should not be sorry -to meet Raymond, to divert my thoughts. So I went to Rue Vivienne, where -the milliner's shop was in which Agathe was engaged; I was sure that -Raymond would be prowling about the neighborhood. - -As I drew near the shop, I saw a number of people collected about a -paper pasted on the wall within a few yards of the door. I was not in -the habit of stopping to read about lost dogs or other chattels; but I -saw that everybody was laughing, and concluded that it was not one of -those ordinary placards. I walked toward the crowd and listened: - -"It's a good joke," said one. - -"It's a most excellent trick," said another; "I'm sure it's a good -likeness; I recognize that profile." - -I pushed my way to the front, and--what did I see? Raymond's silhouette -pasted on a great white sheet of paper, with these words written above -in huge letters: - - "Notice to ladies, young and old. The original of this portrait is - looking for a lady of from fifteen to thirty-six years who is - willing to accept a dinner in a private dining room." - -I readily guessed the author of that piece of deviltry. Agathe and her -shopmates were standing in the doorway, laughing till they cried to see -the crowd in front of the silhouette and to hear the various remarks. I -was moved to pity for poor Raymond; if I had dared, I would have removed -his unlucky face, thus exposed to the laughter of the passers-by. To be -sure, it was hardly possible to recognize it in that black profile; but -my neighbor had a very peculiar cast of countenance; and the artist, -unluckily for Raymond, had caught his likeness perfectly; indeed, he had -had abundant time to practise, as Raymond had passed the whole evening -in his booth. - -Among the spectators I noticed little Friquet, whom one could always be -sure of finding in front of posters, caricature shops, cake sellers, -street singers, and all sorts of open-air shows. The little fellow had -recognized Raymond; he was holding his sides with laughter, and crying: - -"I say! I know him! It's Monsieur Raymond; he comes to my aunt's house -to sing! Oh! it's he, sure enough! What a shame to paste him up there!" - -And although he characterized it as a shame, the rascal kept repeating: - -"I know him: it's Monsieur Raymond, who comes to my aunt's." - -I was about to walk away, when I turned and saw Raymond parading in -front of Agathe's shop, playing the dandy and ogling her with -significant glances, to which she replied only with roars of laughter. - -The poor devil was walking toward his portrait; if Friquet saw him, he -was lost; the little clerk would not fail to make him known to the -crowd. I determined to try to save him from that humiliation. I hastened -toward him, took his arm, and tried to lead him away with me. - -"Come, my dear Raymond, come; let's take coffee together." - -"I can't do it, my friend; I am here for a purpose, you see. I am -watching Agathe; I want to speak to her." - -"You can speak to her later; come on with me." - -"No; this seems to me a favorable moment; she doesn't take her eyes off -me." - -The little traitress was, in truth, making the most ridiculous faces at -him, for fear he would go away. Monsieur Raymond, who had never known -her to look at him like that, and who saw that all the shopgirls had -their eyes on him, was beside himself with delight; he swaggered along, -leaning on his cane; to no purpose did I pull him by the arm, it was -impossible to induce him to lose sight of the milliner's shop. But he -noticed the crowd assembled a few steps away. - -"There's something over yonder; let's see what it is." - -"Pshaw! it isn't worth while; an offer of a reward for a lost dog, or an -advertisement of some new oil to prevent the hair from falling out or -turning white." - -"I tell you, my dear fellow, those oils aren't to be despised! For my -part, I try every one that comes out; I must confess that they often -give me a headache, but a man must risk something to retain his youth, -you must agree. However, I don't think that's what they're looking at; -see how they're all laughing! It must be something very amusing." - -"Don't you know that in Paris the merest trifle is enough to collect a -hundred people?" - -"No matter; I want to see what it is; I like to laugh when I have an -opportunity. I'll come back in a minute and tell you about it." - -It was impossible to keep him away; he had already crossed the gutter -with an agility of which I had not deemed him capable; and there he was -in the crowd, forcing his way to the front with hands and elbows. The -milliners did not lose sight of him. I too was anxious to witness the -effect that his silhouette produced upon him. Just as he reached the -wall and stood motionless in front of his likeness, unable to believe -his eyes, the little clerk, who was still among the crowd, espied him, -uttered an exclamation, and, overjoyed to be able to point him out to -the bystanders, called out to him: - -"That's a picture of you, Monsieur Raymond; it looks just like you." - -And all the young men repeated with him: - -"It's Monsieur Raymond; he comes to my aunt's!" - -My neighbor pulled his hat over his eyes, so that one could see nothing -but the tip of his nose; he tried to fly from the spot, and hurled -himself among the loungers, who took the keenest delight in barring his -path, bombarding him with jests and hootings. Raymond was beside -himself; he pushed so hard that he succeeded in breaking out a path; and -as he strode away, the laughter from the milliner's shop completely -broke his heart. He went like the wind; but his hat was so far over his -eyes that he could not see where he was going, and he collided with a -blind man led by a dog which carried a bowl in its mouth. The shock -overturned the poor devil, who sat down on the sidewalk with an emphatic -oath; the dog, seeing its master fall, dropped its bowl and sprang at -Raymond; the blind man cried _thief_! because he heard his sous rolling -on the ground; and Raymond swore because the dog was snapping at his -legs. The crowd ran up to restore peace and put the beggar on his feet; -but no one dared to approach him, because he was laying about him with -his stick, thinking that he was belaboring the person who had thrown him -down; while Raymond struggled with the dog, which had taken his leg as a -substitute for the bowl and would not relax its grip. - -At last, the blind man was raised to his feet, and they succeeded in -replacing the bowl between the jaws of the faithful beast that had -fought so valiantly for its master. As it was necessary to compensate -the poor devil, who was rubbing his posteriors and demanding his money, -my neighbor was compelled to put his hand in his pocket, while -everybody shouted at him: - -"Come, Monsieur Raymond, you must be generous; you shouldn't rush -through the streets of Paris like a madman!" - -To escape the crowd, which was becoming larger every moment, Raymond -emptied his pockets; but the more he gave, the more the blind man -complained of his bruises. - -"These villains are never satisfied!" said my neighbor; "here's twelve -francs for your posterior, and thirty sous for the money you lost; I -think that's quite enough." - -"You have hurt me," said the blind man, shouting like a deaf person; "I -shan't be able to walk for a week; you must make up to me what I shall -lose by that." - -"Well, here's twelve francs more." - -"That's not enough, bourgeois." - -"What! that makes three francs a day, and still you're not satisfied! -Your trade seems to be a good one!" - -"I'm a poor father of a family; I've got five children." - -"Why doesn't your wife lead you, instead of trusting you to a dog?" - -"My wife sings on Place Maubert, kind gentleman." - -"And your children?" - -"My oldest, a boy, sings on Boulevard des Italiens; the second, a girl, -sings on Rue du Grand-Hurleur; the third, another girl, at Montparnasse; -the fourth, a boy, on the Champs-lyses; and the youngest boy is just -beginning to sing on Rue du Petit-Lion. We all sing, kind gentleman." - -"Well! you're a good one to complain! People who sing from morning till -night, and won't take three francs for a day's receipts! I should like -to know if there's a family in Paris better off than that!" - -The crowd laughed at my neighbor's reflections. The blind man, who was -inclined to be ugly, was threatened with having to go to exhibit his -bruises to the magistrate, who had a regular tariff for bruised -posteriors of all grades. As he had no desire to expose his hurts to the -authorities, fearing a considerable abatement of his claims, he went his -way with his dog, Raymond with an insult to nurse, and I with the -silhouette, which I had torn down and pocketed. - -The hour for me to meet Caroline had arrived. I took a cab and was -driven to a point behind the Chteau d'Eau. There I alighted, and -strolled along the boulevard, awaiting my young runaway. This time she -soon appeared, with several boxes in her hand. She smiled as soon as she -saw me; there was less restraint in her manner, more affection in her -glance, than I had seen before. Ah! I was sure now that I held sway in -her heart. - -I led her to the cab; we put the boxes in, then took our places side by -side. I told the cabman to urge his horses, for I was impatient to -arrive and enjoy her surprise. At last, after a rapid journey, during -which she had allowed me to hold her in my arms and to tell her again -and again that I would always love her, we reached Rue Caumartin and -drew up in front of her new abode. - -I opened the house door; I paid the cabman; Caroline gathered up her -boxes, and I took her hand to lead her upstairs; for it was dark and we -could hardly see. I was amazed that her hand did not tremble in mine. At -the moment of such a tremendous change in her position she was not at -all excited. She was a young woman of great strength of character--that -was clear. - -At last we were in her apartment; an old woman on the same landing gave -us a light, and Caroline was able to examine her new quarters. She -looked about with rapture; I could see her joy gleaming in her eyes. - -"Oh! how pretty it is! how pretty it is!" she kept saying, again and -again; and she sat down on the easy-chair, on the sofa, looked at -herself in the mirror, examined her curtains, her commode, her clock, -her table, her chairs. The bed was the only thing that she dared not -examine. Was it from modesty? - -"You are satisfied, then?" I said inquiringly, as I took her on my -knees. - -"Why, how could I help being? These rooms are charming; everything is so -elegant, and nothing is lacking; I shall be just like any _comme il -faut_ woman." - -"And you think you will be happy here?" - -"I feel already as if I could never go anywhere else." - -"I am delighted to have succeeded so well; everything here is yours." - -"Mine? really? You are too generous!" - -"And if you don't love me, you are at liberty to refuse to see me; I do -not intend to put any price upon what I do." - -"Oh! what an idea! if I didn't love you, would I have consented to come -with you? would I accept anything from you?" - -I allowed her to say no more; a kiss closed her mouth. The doorbell rang -violently, and Caroline started up in alarm. - -"Who can that be?" she asked. - -I calmed her and opened the door. - -It was the man from the restaurant, with the supper I had ordered; that -sight restored Caroline's gayety completely. We set the table; the -basket was unloaded, the dishes placed on the table, the waiter -dismissed. We were alone, on our own premises, our own masters. I was -not very hungry, but I was pleased to see that my companion did honor to -the repast. She partook of everything and declared that everything was -good. - -"At all events," I said to myself, "she hasn't begun to play the -_petite-matresse_ yet; she doesn't try to conceal her pleasure or her -appetite." - -She admitted that she never had such a good supper at her aunt's, and -that she loved good things to eat, sweetmeats, and muscat wine. -Thereupon I filled her glass with muscatel. I did not wish to make her -tipsy; but a little "point," I thought, would banish the last traces of -ceremony that still held her gayety in check. - -Caroline was bright; her conversation abounded in sallies and -repartee--overabounded perhaps. I foresaw that she was likely to go far -and to become a leader in her class. I could understand that she must -have been bored to death on Rue des Rosiers; she secretly longed to -shine upon a greater stage, because she had a presentiment of the -triumph that awaited her. I determined to do my best not to encourage -her taste for luxury, fine dresses, and extravagance; for it would be -the devil's own job to make her take a different road when she was -fairly started. - -But the clock struck eleven. - -"Already!" said Caroline; "how the time flies!" - -I was by her side, I held her in my arms, I rested my head on her -shoulder; silence had followed our bursts of merriment, but silence -expresses the emotion of the heart better than the noisy outbursts of -folly. - -"It is very late," said Caroline, in an undertone. - -"Must I go?" I said; "aren't you your own mistress now?" - -She lowered her eyes and made no reply; but did I need any other avowal -than that? She defended herself very feebly; and I was such an expert -lady's-maid that in an instant she was in her night costume, if it may -be called a costume. To be sure, I tore and broke whatever came in my -way: strings, laces, and pins. Those were very trifling obstacles; -luckily, fashion does not decree that our ladies must be clad in -corselets of steel! but even so, love would find the defect in them. -There was one pleasanter obstacle which I desired to find; but I am -bound to confess that it did not exist. Ah! Mademoiselle Caroline, I -might have suspected as much! But what does it matter, after all? Was -she any less pretty on that account? No, to be sure; perhaps, indeed, it -was that that gave to her face that expression of coquettish malice -which fascinated me. But I could not help thinking that another man had -obtained much more than I without providing her with an apartment; -however, for my encouragement, I recalled the ballad: - - "The first step's taken unreflecting." - -Not until the second does reflection take a hand; therefore, there is -much more glory in inducing the second step than the first; I tried to -persuade myself that that was so. - -At all events, I had no choice but to make the best of it, as there was -no remedy. If I had been her husband--why, then I should have done just -the same; for it is quite enough to be persuaded yourself that you are a -Georges Dandin; I see no need of proclaiming it from the housetops. - -So I kept all these reflections to myself; I bestowed upon Caroline -caresses which she returned with a vivacity and a force of sentiment of -which I should not have deemed her capable, and which I certainly -should not have found in an innocent; that was one source of -consolation. She swore that she would continue to love me, that she -would be happy with no one but me, that she did not want to see anybody -else, that she would always be faithful to me and had no desire to win -the love of any other man. I said about the same to her, and we fell -asleep with these touching oaths of love on our lips. - -When I awoke, it was broad daylight. Caroline was still asleep. It was -only six o'clock, so I did not wake her; she must have been fatigued. I -softly imprinted a kiss on lips which seemed to invite it even when -asleep, and I left that bed where I had found in my inamorata's arms all -the delights of sensual pleasure, save only--but why think of that? - -I dressed without making any noise, for I wanted to go away without -waking her. I knew that very close companionship soon gives birth to -satiety; therefore, I proposed not to see her too often, so that when we -did meet we should enjoy ourselves more. Oh! I had had experience! When -it is not used with care, there is nothing that becomes exhausted so -quickly as love. And then, although Mademoiselle Caroline pleased me -immensely, I had no idea of living with her altogether. When I was fully -dressed, I glanced once more at my new friend, then crept from the room -and closed the door very softly. - -What a difference between Paris at six in the morning and the same Paris -at six in the evening. What perfect tranquillity reigned in that -quarter, which, a few hours later, would resound with the rumbling of -calches and tilburys, with the trampling of brilliantly attired -equestrians, with the shouts of coachmen and footmen, with the uproar of -tradesmen and foot passengers! A few milkwomen alone gave life to the -picture. I walked toward the boulevards. How cool it was! what a -delicious hour for walking! I could not resist the desire to walk the -length of the boulevards before the dust and tumult of the day had -transformed them into the rendezvous of dandies and _petite-matresses_. -I felt, too, that the air I was breathing did me good, that it -tranquillized my mind; and I understood how one may at six in the -morning repent of what one did at six in the evening. - -But the shops began to open, the tradesmen took down their shutters, the -concierges were sweeping down their steps, blinds were being raised, -lazy folk were beginning to yawn and stretch their arms, working girls -came out to buy their ounce of coffee, old bachelors their roll, -maid-servants their beef stew, and old women their little pitcher of -cream. The messenger went to the wine shop for his glass of wine, and -the cabman for his glass of brandy, in order to begin the day aright! -The peasant women, who had already done half their day's work, remounted -their donkeys and returned to the fields; and I left the boulevards and -went home. - -Three-fourths of the tenants were still asleep. It was only half-past -seven, and I met nobody but a few maid-servants. My neighbor was not -awake as yet, I sincerely hoped. Poor Raymond! after his adventure of -the preceding evening, I presumed that we must have a grand explanation. -He must inevitably be in a rage with me; for I credited him with -sufficient common sense to understand that the young women in the -milliner's shop had deliberately made sport of him. - -On reaching my door, I found something attached to the knob. It was a -bouquet from Nicette, already a little withered; it had been there since -the evening before, no doubt. The little flower girl did not forget me; -and I, who might have gone to say good-morning to her at six o'clock, -had not even thought of her. I very seldom passed her shop. And yet, -Nicette was well worth going out of one's way to see; but for the last -few days I had been so engrossed that I had had no time to think of my -protge; indeed, I had vowed not to think too much of her, and I -believed that I should do well to keep my vow--for her sake especially. -I wanted her to forget me, for I believed her to be very susceptible and -quite capable of becoming deeply attached to the man she should chance -to love.--"No," I thought, "I will not go to see her; that is the wiser -course. She will end by forgetting me."--But I had a feeling that I -should be very sorry if she did. - -I detached the bouquet and entered my rooms; they too reminded me of -Nicette and of the night we had passed together there. That night in no -wise resembled the night which had just gone, and which had been marked -by nothing that was abnormal in my experience. I had spent and expected -to spend many nights as pleasurable as the last. But those nights are -very rare when a girl of sixteen, emotional and attractive, succeeds, -while she beguiles us by her charms, in forcing us to respect her -innocence. - -I was not so happy as I should have been. Having become the possessor of -an adorable woman,--for Caroline was truly adorable, and she lost -nothing by being seen in a simple nglig,--what more could I desire? -Ah! I had been deceived so often, that I was justified in being fearful. -My new mistress was at least as coquettish as my previous ones had been, -and that fact was not very reassuring. But why torment myself in -anticipation? Moreover, I had promised myself to be impassive and to -take things philosophically. Yes, I had made myself that promise, but I -had not succeeded in keeping it; perhaps with time and a little more -experience I might succeed. They say that one becomes wonted to -everything, but in my opinion it is very hard to become wonted to -anything that wounds our self-esteem. - -Someone knocked; it was Madame Dupont with a letter. - -"Give it to me, Madame Dupont." - -My concierge had a most amusing way of doing even the simplest things -with an air of great importance and mystery. She handed me the paper, -accompanying it with a reverence which meant a great number of things. -Noticing that the letter was folded simply, not sealed, I concluded that -she knew its contents; and judging from her manner, they must be of -serious import. - -"Who gave you this, Madame Dupont?" - -"Monsieur Raymond." - -"My neighbor?" - -"Yes, monsieur; and he told me to bring him your answer." - -"Let us see what he has to say." - - "MONSIEUR DORSAN: - - "We must have a serious explanation with regard to the dinner of - the day before yesterday. The matter cannot be settled elsewhere - than in the Bois de Boulogne, where I shall expect you to-day - between noon and one o'clock. I shall be alone; do you come alone. - I believe you to be too honorable a man to fail to be on hand. I - shall be near Porte Maillot. - - "RAYMOND." - -I laughed like a madman when I read this epistle. Madame Dupont, whom -Raymond doubtless had told that we were going to fight, seemed amazed at -my hilarity, and asked me what answer she should give him. - -"Go," I said, "and assure my neighbor that I will be on hand promptly." - -My concierge, proud of her ambassadorship in a matter of such moment, -made me the inevitable reverence and returned with my answer to Raymond, -who was probably waiting in her lodge, swaggering gallantly before the -gossips and housemaids, so that the whole household might know that he -had an affair of honor on hand. I confess that I did not expect such a -challenge from my neighbor. What weapons should I take? He did not -mention the subject, and I had an idea that none would be needed; -however, I concluded to put my pistols in my pocket. Who could say? -perhaps I had judged Raymond ill. Moreover, madmen have their lucid -moments, misers are sometimes extravagant, tyrants have paroxysms of -kindliness, coquettes moments of sincerity, rascals gleams of honesty; -and cowards, too, may have their days of valor. - - - - -XVII - -MY DUEL WITH MY NEIGHBOR - - -I went to the rendezvous at the appointed hour. The weather was fine, -delightful for walking, and everybody was out of doors. I could not -avoid the reflection that my neighbor had selected for our duel an hour -when it was very hard not to be seen; I knew that he was very fond of -putting himself in evidence, but it seemed to me that that was not an -opportune occasion for so doing; he was evidently quite capable of -choosing his ground in front of a guardhouse. However, I concluded to be -patient and to await events before judging him. - -When I arrived at Porte Maillot I did not see Raymond. It was not yet -one o'clock, so I strolled about in the neighborhood. Little did I think -that morning that I should go to the Bois de Boulogne before night, and -alone. Caroline, I thought, must be surprised at my non-appearance. In -truth, it did imply rather a lack of warmth; and if she were exacting, -she would be justified in scolding me. But I knew a sure way to make -peace with her; it is easy enough to find a way when love still exists; -only in old liaisons, or between those who have been long married, do -quarrels destroy love, because in such cases the methods of -reconciliation are no longer the same. - -At half-past one, no one had appeared. Could it be that my neighbor had -deliberately sent me on a fool's errand; I realized that he was likely -to require a vast deal of preparation before fighting a duel; but it -seemed to me that he had had plenty of time since eight o'clock in the -morning to make his little arrangements, and to go about to tell all his -acquaintances that he had an affair of honor on hand. Could he have gone -to warn the police? Such things had been done; but, no, it was he who -had sent the challenge; I was doing him an injustice. Poor Raymond! the -dinner episode was terrific, beyond question, and he must have been -terribly incensed at me, especially if he believed me to be the author -also of the ingenious trick of pasting his picture on the wall on Rue -Vivienne. But why that rhodomontade of sending me a challenge by the -concierge? if he had no intention of fighting, he should have come to -see me at my rooms; I would have confessed my faults, while laughing at -the affair, for I am not one of those men who refuse to atone for the -foolish pranks they have committed except by cutting the throats of the -persons they have offended. I consider that there is more glory in -avowing one's fault frankly, and fighting afterward if the avowal does -not give satisfaction. - -Almost two o'clock! I lost my patience; I was tired of walking; -moreover, the weather had changed, and the sky was overcast; a storm -seemed impending, and I had no desire to await it in the woods. The -idlers had become fewer, the riders were digging their spurs into their -horses' sides, the coachmen cracking their whips; everybody was hurrying -back to the city. I determined to go with the rest. But who were the -three men walking so fast toward the woods? I soon recognized the one -who marched so proudly at their head: it was Raymond. He had brought two -seconds, after telling me that he would come alone. But, no matter; -doubtless he would be obliging enough to let me have one of them. I -began to think that he had urged me not to bring one because he -preferred to choose one for me. - -As the three drew near, I recognized Raymond's seconds: one was Vauvert -the melomaniac, the other Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche. Parbleu! -thought I, there is sport ahead! I had a strong suspicion that my -neighbor was preparing some trick he had conceived. What in the devil -had induced him to choose such seconds? Friquet only was lacking; I -should not have been surprised to find him standing guard a short -distance away, ready to summon the police at the first signal from his -uncle. - -All three were drenched with perspiration; and yet, they had had time -enough to make the trip. Apparently, they had postponed their decision -long enough to be sure of warming themselves up on the road. Raymond was -as red as a turkey cock, Vauvert pale as a bride, and the baron made -such fiendish grimaces that I could not tell just the color of his face. -They seemed more at ease when they saw that I was alone. I very much -regretted that I had not brought a second; I had an idea that by doing -so I should have disarranged Raymond's plan. - -They saluted me as soon as they caught sight of me; I returned their -salutation, then went back into the woods I had just left. - -"Where are you going? Wait, wait!" cried Vauvert, stammering and hardly -able to speak at all, he was so excited. I pretended not to hear, and -went farther into the woods. - -Vauvert started to run after me; he overtook me and seized my hand, and -I felt that he was trembling like a rabbit. - -"Where on earth are you going, my dear fellow? why do you go so far into -the woods? Don't you see that we're going to have a storm?" - -"It seems to me that the affair that brings us here can hardly be -adjusted on the highroad; it would be as sensible to choose Boulevard -Saint-Denis for the battlefield." - -"My friend, I hope that--at all events----" - -"As for the storm, that needn't disturb us; on the contrary, it will -keep bystanders away." - -While I was talking with Vauvert, I heard my neighbor shouting in the -distance: - -"No adjustment, Monsieur Vauvert, no adjustment! I don't propose to -consent to any compromise; I am determined to fight!" - -"You hear him!" said Vauvert; "he's crazy. Oh! he's a terrible fellow -when he gets started. He has said everywhere that he proposed to have -your life, or that you should have his." - -I could not help laughing at Raymond's bluster; and I ventured to -reassure poor Vauvert, who did not know which way to turn, having never -been present at such a function. At last we were joined by my adversary -and the Baron de Witcheritche, the latter of whom wore a three-cornered -hat, eight inches high, cocked over his left ear, which gave him the -aspect of a bully from the Rue Coquenard. - -"Monsieur!" said Raymond, striding toward me with a warlike air, "I -wrote you that I should come alone, and that was my intention; but, as I -passed through the Palais-Royal, I met my friend Vauvert, who had come -out to buy a roll for his second breakfast, and who, when he learned -that I had an affair of honor with you, dropped everything to come with -me, and----" - -"That is to say," interrupted Vauvert, "that you didn't tell me that -that was what was up, and that I didn't find it out till we got to the -barrier; for, when you saw me, you grabbed my arm and didn't give me -time to pay for my newspaper." - -Raymond pretended not to hear what Vauvert said, and continued: - -"So I yielded to his urgent entreaties. Besides, he is as much your -friend as mine, and his presence cannot be disagreeable to you. As for -Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche, we met him at the barrier, going out -to dine in the country with his good wife. I thought it better to have -two seconds than one, because then I could let you have one of them. -Monsieur de Witcheritche consented to leave madame la baronne, who is -waiting for him under the trees not far away. He will be my second then, -and Monsieur Vauvert yours, if agreeable to you." - -Monsieur le baron, who had bowed every time that his name was mentioned, -took his place beside Raymond, and Vauvert stood behind me. - -"Monsieur Raymond," said I, "it seems to me that we might very well -settle this affair between ourselves, without troubling these gentlemen. -I am afraid that madame la baronne may get wet during our engagement, -and Vauvert would be better off at his desk than here." - -"That is true enough," said Vauvert, who asked nothing better than to go -away; "I have a great deal of work to do to-day, and I'm afraid I shall -be reproved by my deputy chief clerk." - -"Matame la paronne, she haf ov te shtorm no fear; she loaf mooch to see -te lidening flashes," said Monsieur de Witcheritche, smiling so -expansively that his mouth seemed to reach from ear to ear. - -"Well, since these gentlemen have been good enough to come," said I, -with a smile, "it must not be for nothing; so I accept Monsieur Vauvert -for my second." - -Vauvert fell back with an air of dismay. - -"Don't be alarmed," I said to him; "seconds rarely fight; if, however, I -should fall, and you should choose to avenge me, it will be in your -power." - -"I, my dear friend! I do not need to tell you how fond I am of you; and -certainly--I wish the affair might be settled amicably. Friends ought -not to fall out!--Monsieur de Witcheritche, we ought not to allow these -gentlemen to fight." - -The baron seemed much more deeply interested in something that he had in -his pocket than in our combat, and to no purpose did Vauvert, with tears -in his eyes, strive frantically to make him understand that it was their -duty to reconcile Raymond and myself. But my neighbor was obstinate. - -"I intend to fight," he said; "nobody shall insult me with impunity! I -have seen Monsieur Gerville, and I know that he did not dine with you -and Agathe; I need say no more! And my silhouette on the wall--that was -a betrayal of confidence! You must give me satisfaction, Monsieur -Dorsan; this affair will make a sensation." - -"Oh! bless my soul, neighbor, I am at your service! Let us get through -with it, for it is going to rain, and I shall be distressed to have -these gentlemen get wet, and especially madame la baronne, who is under -the trees." - -"I am the insulted party; I have the choice of weapons." - -"That is true." - -"I am very skilful with the sword; I have taken lessons from the most -expert teacher in Paris; but I will not fight with anything but -pistols, because I don't wish to make an unfair use of my advantages." - -"That is very generous on your part; I divined your purpose and brought -some pistols along." - -As I spoke, I took mine from my pocket; I saw that Raymond was disturbed -and changed color; then he produced a pair of great holster pistols and -showed them to me. - -"That's all right," said I; "each of us will have his own pistols." - -"No, no! put yours back in your pocket; we must use mine. You understand -what an advantage I should have in using one of my pistols against one -of yours, which are two inches shorter." - -"Your behavior is truly noble. Very well, since you insist upon it." - -"I do, monsieur; besides, I have the choice of weapons, and I fight with -none but my own." - -"Very well; let us call our friends to load them." - -I turned to look for Vauvert, who, as soon as we produced our pistols, -had walked away in the direction of the highroad and could with -difficulty be induced to come near us. - -"The pistols are loaded," said Raymond; "I always look after that in -advance." - -"Ordinarily, my dear neighbor, that is the duty of the seconds." - -"Oh! but I don't trust anybody but myself with that. Besides, my friend -Witcheritche has examined them;--isn't that so, monsieur le baron?" - -The baron was busily engaged in wrapping in two thicknesses of paper -some small Neufchtel cheeses, which he seemed to fear would be -dissolved in his pocket by the rain; so he replied to my adversary's -question only by a smile of assent. Everything that I saw tended to -confirm my suspicions: Raymond's valor was unnatural; his insistence -upon using his own pistols, the pains he had taken to load them at home, -certainly implied some trickery on his part, which I was determined. He -handed me his pistols and asked me to choose one. - -"How many paces apart shall we stand?" I asked. - -"Why--about twenty-five." - -"Great God!" cried Vauvert; "why, that's point-blank range. Forty paces, -messieurs! that's quite near enough when you're hit!" - -"No; let's call it thirty; that's the most I can consent to.--Monsieur -de Witcheritche, come and measure the ground." - -Monsieur le baron regretfully parted from his cheeses, which he laid on -the grass, taking care to put his hat over them, for the rain was -beginning to fall violently. He came toward us; I took my place, and he -measured thirty gigantic paces, so that I could hardly see Raymond. As -for my second, he was so afraid of being hit that he did not know where -to go. He urged us to be very careful not to aim at the wrong man, and I -reassured him. Monsieur de Witcheritche gave the signal by beating time, -as if we were to play a Haydn quartette. - -Raymond fired, and either the noise or downright terror felled Vauvert -to the ground, where he lay with his face buried in the grass. I was not -touched; I did not even hear the bullet whistle by my ears. - -I suggested to my neighbor that we let it go at that. - -"No, no, fire!" he cried. - -"He is ein Zazar!" exclaimed the baron, in his admiration of Raymond's -courage. - -I was desirous to ascertain the truth. My second still lay at full -length on the ground; Monsieur de Witcheritche had thought it better to -retire to a considerable distance, behind a clump of trees; my adversary -turned his head aside, waiting for me to take aim, which I had no -purpose of doing, although convinced that his weapons were not -dangerous; but the baron's cheeses were within two yards of me, and I -discharged my pistol at them. The explosion blew the three-cornered hat -away, and a multitude of scraps of paper adhered to the little -Neufchtels. While I was laughing over the end of my duel, Raymond came -toward me with outstretched hand, shouting at a distance: - -"It's all settled, my friend; I am satisfied, embrace me!" - -"What!" said I; "you don't want another shot? I have pistols, too." - -"No, my dear fellow, let's forget it all; embrace me, I beg you." - -"So be it; I will do whatever is agreeable to you." - -While my neighbor threw himself into my arms, the baron ran to his -cheeses, and was like one turned to stone when he saw that they were all -speckled with bits of paper. - -"Mein jheese, tay shmell ov te bowder lige te teffel!" he said, putting -his nose to them. - -"A thousand pardons, monsieur le baron; but as I did not wish to fire at -my friend Raymond, I aimed in this direction; the bullet must have gone -through them." - -Raymond flushed to his ears; my ironical manner led him to fear that I -had detected his little fraud; but I did not care to deprive him of the -pleasure of being able to say everywhere that he had fought a duel. I -ran to my second, who was still on the ground, and urged him to rise; -he did not stir, and I saw that the poor devil had swooned during our -battle. I called Raymond to my assistance; he had a flask of strong -aromatic vinegar in his pocket, with which we inundated Vauvert's face, -and he finally came to himself. After feeling himself all over and -making sure that he was not wounded, he tried to make us think that his -swoon was caused by his affection for us both. We thanked him and set -him on his legs; but we had to take an arm each to help him to walk; for -he was in no condition to stand erect without our support. - -Monsieur de Witcheritche put the remains of his cheeses in his pocket -handkerchief, and we left the wood. The rain continued, but my second -could not walk fast, so that we were compelled to endure it. Raymond was -in the highest spirits; he was overjoyed by his day's experience. He -knew Vauvert, and he was sure that his duel would soon be the absorbing -topic of the whole company of amateur musicians, even if he himself -should not take pains to spread it everywhere. - -"You showed extraordinary courage, messieurs," said Vauvert, as we -marched along; "such sang-froid! such calmness! that was true valor!" - -"Oh! yez! yez! tese two chentlemens pe fery prave." - -"Oh! my neighbor Raymond's not like other men; I am sure that he would -fight the same way ten times a day." - -Raymond bowed, but said nothing. I fancied that he realized that I knew -how his pistols were loaded. - -At last, we spied madame la baronne seated under a large tree; her -husband ran to her and took her arm, and we walked toward the barrier. - -"I haf mooch abbetide," said Madame de Witcheritche to her husband. - -"Ve vill tine soon, matame." - -The couple bowed to us and quickened their pace. I presumed that they -were on the lookout for a restaurant; but I noticed that, all the way -from the barrier, two huge dogs had been following monsieur le baron, -who did all that he could to drive them away, but to no purpose. - -"Do those two dogs belong to Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche?" I asked -Vauvert. - -"No, I don't think so; I never saw at his place anything but poodles." - -"It's strange," said Raymond; "he must have something in his pocket that -attracts them." - -I looked for a cab, but the rain had caused them all to be taken up. We -had lost sight of Monsieur de Witcheritche and his wife, when we heard -loud cries, and soon saw the two dogs running for their lives, one with -a bologna sausage, the other with a bit of salt pork in its mouth. The -baron and baroness came running after them, crying: - -"Shtop tief! shtop tief! Ach! te file peasts! tey haf shtole our -tinner!" - -Madame la baronne, being weaker than her husband, was obliged to stop, -and told us how the two dogs had succeeded in extracting from monsieur -le baron's pocket the dinner she and her dear spouse, who had been a -long time arranging that little outing for her, expected to eat in the -country. - -While we were consoling the poor woman, Monsieur de Witcheritche, who -was not the man to abandon his sausage and his pork, kept on in pursuit -of the dogs, at which he threw all the stones he could find on the -road. He had already wounded one and compelled it to slacken its pace. -Hoping to hit the other, which was just passing the barrier, he threw a -great stone at it with all his force. But the stone was ill-aimed, and, -instead of striking the dog, struck the customs clerk in the eye, as he -was looking up at the sky to see if the storm were passing away. - -The poor man fell, crying: - -"I am dead!" - -His comrades ran to him. One of the dogs, which was then passing the -city limits, ran among the clerks' legs and made them stagger. The -second dog, trying to escape, was seized by monsieur le baron, who -thought of nothing but his dinner and pursued his course, unmindful of -anything else. He succeeded in catching the dog by the tail, and a -battle ensued between him and the animal, which refused to give up the -sausage. The soldiers from the neighboring post ran up in response to -the outcries of the clerks. The vehicles of all kinds passing in or out -were compelled to stop; the soldiers would allow no one to pass until -they had found out what the matter was. A crowd gathered to see what was -going on, and everyone put forward some conjecture. - -"It's an important prisoner whom they arrested just as he was leaving -the city," said one, "and it seems that he wounded the clerk who seized -him." - -"No; they've just discovered some contraband goods in one of those -wagons; it was being smuggled in." - -Amid the tumult, which was augmented by the barking of the dogs, the -baron shouted triumphantly: - -"I haf him! I haf him!" and he waved aloft the bologna sausage, which he -had snatched from his enemy's jaws; then, before the poor devil whose -eye he had put out had recovered consciousness, Monsieur de Witcheritche -slipped into the crowd and returned to his wife, leaving the clerks, -soldiers, and bystanders asking one another what it was all about. -Madame la baronne had recovered her husband, Vauvert was in a condition -to walk unaided, and Raymond began to play the dandy. I left the company -and took a cab to return to Paris. - - - - -XVIII - -A LITTLE DISSERTATION IN WHICH THERE IS NOTHING ENTERTAINING - - -When I arrived at Caroline's it was after five o'clock; my duel and its -sequel had prolonged my absence, and she scolded me for going away -without waking her, and said that she had been vexed at my delay. I -would have preferred that she should have been bored, but I realized -that she had had no leisure for that; there are so many thousand things -to do in a new apartment, to say nothing of the indispensable purchases. -She showed me a very modish bonnet that she had bought, and tried it on -for me. It was a fascinating one; however, at twenty years, with a -pretty face and a graceful figure, a woman might wear a sugar loaf on -her head and she would still be good-looking. It seemed to me that I -liked her better in her little cap than in a bonnet; but I concluded -that I should get used to it. - -The rest of the costume must necessarily correspond with the bonnet; -that was in the regular order. I have always wondered at the importance -which women attribute to all the gewgaws and trifles which are called -dress! at the amount of thought and calculation they waste upon the best -way of placing a flower or a ribbon! With what care they arrange a bit -of trimming, a bouquet, a curl! All this is sometimes the result of -several days' meditation! But let us not charge it to them as a crime: -it is to seduce us that they array themselves; we should be very -ungrateful to criticise what they do to please us. - -Caroline had changed already; she wore her new garb with much ease of -manner; she was no longer the grisette of Rue des Rosiers, but the -_petite-matresse_ of the Chausse d'Antin. Women form themselves in -everything more rapidly than we do. Observe yonder villager: after three -months in the city, he is still awkward, loutish, and embarrassed. But -this little peasant girl left her home only a week ago, and already her -parents would not recognize her; ere long she will not recognize her -parents. - -A fortnight had passed since Caroline's installation on Rue Caumartin. I -saw her every day; I dare not say that it was love that I felt for her; -certainly it was not a very impassioned love; but she still pleased me -as much as ever. I believed that she loved me more than at the beginning -of our liaison; at all events, she told me so. - -Things had not turned out precisely as I had arranged, for she had -ceased to go to her shop, and she could hardly be said to work in her -room; but, by way of compensation, she had acquired the manners of good -society, the tone of a lady, and the general aspect of an _lgante_. It -is true that I refused her nothing, although I frequently considered the -project of reducing my expenses. But how can you refuse anything to a -pretty woman who entreats you with a melting voice, and, while -entreating you, looks at you in a certain way? As for myself, I confess -that I have never had the strength to resist. It has been my misfortune, -perhaps. - -I began to discover that what I called gewgaws formed a very important -item in the keeping of a woman. I ruined myself in trifles: every day it -was a dress, a neckerchief, a hat, or a shawl! I do not know how -Caroline went about it, but she invariably proved to me that it was the -fashion, and, therefore, that it was necessary; I am too just to refuse -a woman what is necessary. But my income was insufficient; I had -borrowed; I was running in debt. What in heaven's name would happen if -she should take it into her head to want the superfluous! - -Every other day I found a bouquet at my door when I went home. My little -Nicette did not forget me, and I never went to see her; if I chanced to -pass her stand, I never thought of her being there and never glanced in -her direction! And yet, every time that I found a bouquet, I determined -that I would go to thank her; but Caroline gave me so much occupation -that I never had a free moment; every day there was some new pleasure -party; I never had the courage to refuse her; she knew a way to make me -approve all her plans. Her graceful ways charmed me, her wit fascinated -me, her merriment amused me; the hussy was so adroit in making the most -of all the gifts she had received from nature! - -One morning I received a note written in an unfamiliar hand. It was from -Madame de Marsan, who reproached me good-naturedly for not keeping the -promise I had made to attend her musical evenings, and invited me to a -small party she was giving at her country house. I had almost forgotten -Madame de Marsan, for I often forget a person who has set me on fire the -night before; a very lucky thing for one who takes fire so easily; it -proves that the heart has no share in the nonsense we call love. I -determined to go to the party in question, for I did not propose that -Mademoiselle Caroline should make me lose sight of all my acquaintances; -I ought not to abandon good society because she could not go thither -with me. The girl had already led me into too much folly! And there was -my sister, whose letter I had not answered, and who expected me from day -to day! I was not at all content with myself. But the torrent bore me -on; I closed my eyes and let myself go. - -Someone entered my room: it was my neighbor, whom I had not seen since -the day of our famous duel. He had a shrewd suspicion that I was not -taken in by his false gallantry--I who had witnessed his abject terror -on the day of the _partie fine_. I knew that he had made a great noise -about his valor, prating of his duel to everybody he saw; but he had -avoided meeting me in company; my presence would have embarrassed him in -his narrative of our combat. I wondered what he wanted of me. - -"Good-morning, my dear friend!" he began; "how goes the health this -morning?" - -"Why, I am inclined to think it goes too fast; I am going at a rapid -pace." - -"You must be prudent, neighbor." - -"You're a good one to talk about prudence, Monsieur Raymond! What are -you doing with Agathe?" - -"Oh! I don't see her any more; that's all over, we are parted forever! I -don't propose ever to be caught by one of those little hussies again; -you spend an enormous amount of money, and sometimes you don't make your -expenses. And they don't know how to appreciate a man; they don't know -the difference between a poet and a gudgeon! So long as you have money -in your pocket, and can stuff them from morning till night with bonbons, -sweetmeats, ices, and syrups, and tell them they're adorable, take them -to drive and to the theatre and to the country, and buy them all the -fal-lals they happen to want, oh! bless my soul, then they're satisfied. -You may be as stupid as a goose, as coarse as a street porter, as -conceited as an Italian virtuoso, yet you're none the less delightful in -the eyes of those girls." - -"There's a great deal of truth in what you say, neighbor; but, as a -general rule, it is adulation and flattery that spoil both men and -women; if we didn't kneel at their feet, they wouldn't look down on us -from such a height. Flatterers, courtiers, low-lived sycophants, creep -in everywhere and sometimes corrupt the most happily endowed nature. -Kings, unfortunately, are more encompassed than other men by this -servile swarm, which constantly hums in their ears a concert of -exaggerated and insipid praise; it is when men tremble that they stoop -lower than at any other time. Louis XI had more courtiers than Louis -XII, Charles IX more than Henri IV. Richelieu and Mazarin did not take a -step without being surrounded by a multitude of courtiers; they were -feared, people trembled before them, but humiliated themselves and -scribbled verses in their honor. Sully and Colbert had their admirers, -but they knew how to repel flattery; they were too great to surround -themselves with people whom they despised. If too frequent adulation did -not increase our vanity, if the familiar atmosphere of praise did not -give us too great confidence in our own deserts, how many shortcomings -would those heroes and great captains have escaped, who, under difficult -circumstances, have rejected the counsels of wisdom because they were -accustomed only to the language of flattery, and deemed themselves -invincible because a thousand voices had declared that they were, and -because the man who has been exalted to the rank of a demigod does not -readily decide to take the advice of his creatures! The pernicious -effects of adulation date from a very early period: the serpent seduced -the first woman by flattery. Almost always by the same means have women -since then been seduced. Flattery destroyed Antiochus and -Nebuchadnezzar, Semiramis and Mary Stuart, Cinq-Mars, Monmouth, -Cleopatra, and Marion Delorme; Samson allowed his hair to be cut off -while listening to the compliments of Delilah; Holofernes lost his head -while listening to Judith's soft voice; Charles XII of Sweden, blinded -by his victories, buried his army in the plains of Pultowa; the Marchal -de Villeroi, relying always on luck, insisted on joining battle at -Ramillies. Excessive praise, by blinding us to our faults, causes us to -remain in the path of mediocrity, when nature has given us faculties -calculated to raise us above the vulgar; by tempting us to close our -ears to the harsh counsels of truth, it leads us to mistake self-esteem -for genius, vanity for merit, facility for talent. How many artists, -even when they seek advice, refuse to receive anything but compliments! -But they have been persuaded that all their works are masterpieces, that -no defect can be found in them! And people who have attained that end no -longer take the pains to study; everything that comes from their hands -must necessarily be perfect. But civility demands that we must not -always say what we think. Suppose a poet reads us some of his verses: if -they are bad, you must not tell him so unless you are his friend; for -you do not desire to be looked upon in society as an Alcestis, forever -growling about the vagaries and absurdities of everyone else; that rle -would raise up too many enemies to be endured, except on the stage. In -society, we choose to overlook one another's failings rather than to set -ourselves up as censors; mutual intercourse is pleasanter thus, and we -find more pleasure in living for ourselves than in wasting our time -trying to correct other people. But although courtesy may compel us to -conceal what we think, it does not compel us to say what we do not -think; when I listen to the reading of execrable poetry, I will hold my -peace, but I won't say that it is charming; nay, more, I will try to -summon courage to make some suggestions to the author. I can never make -up my mind to say that a portrait resembles its subject, when I think it -a wretched failure; I cannot tell a person that he sings true, when he -has just been torturing my ears. With nascent talents, above all, we -should be sparing of praise, even while we encourage them; flattery is -responsible for very many such coming to naught, because it arrests the -flight of a genius, which, deeming itself perfect already, no longer -cares to take the trouble to acquire what it lacks. Doubtless a father -is excusable for considering his son a prodigy of beauty, wit, and -talent; paternal love naturally misleads us; but let us at least keep -our conviction to ourselves; let us not force strangers to go into -ecstasies over the story of a mischievous trick, to listen in religious -silence to a fable often directly at variance with common sense, and to -gaze in admiration at a flat nose, turned-up chin, and inflamed eyes, -which can never delight any glance but a father's. If there were fewer -flatterers, how many men, who are simply unendurable now because they -have been spoiled, would be ornaments of society! Let us reserve our -enthusiasm for those poets and artists whose talents exalt them above -all praise. Doubtless the contemporaries of Molire and Voltaire -rendered to those sublime geniuses the homage they deserved; but one -does not display his admiration for such men by insipid compliments and -empty praise: great talents are proud of the applause of people of -taste; they despise the base fawning of which fools are so vain. - -"When Voltaire lived at Ferney, those travellers who, by virtue of their -rank or their merit, could hope to gain access to him, never failed, -even though they were obliged to go far out of their way, to visit the -philosopher's retreat. Everyone was curious to see that extraordinary -man, who astounded the whole universe by his genius. Men of intellect -and of taste thought only of the pleasure that was in store for them; -but the fools--and they too were anxious to converse with Voltaire--gave -all their attention to the posture and expression they proposed to -assume at sight of the philosopher, the better to manifest their -admiration of him. Voltaire was affable with the former; but when a -lady, on catching sight of the great poet, deemed it advisable to shriek -and to swoon, the philosopher shrugged his shoulders and turned on his -heel. - -"Great geniuses are rare; great talents are affable and modest; they who -might have acquired great talents but have failed inhale with delight -the incense people are good enough to lavish on them. How can a young -man whose voice is rather pleasant and nothing more fail to consider -himself a Las or a Martin when people seem to be so infatuated with -him? They urge him, entreat him, implore him to sing; all the women are -in a flutter of excitement before hearing him; they belaud him to their -neighbors in anticipation. 'Delicious!' 'Divine!' 'Charming!' are the -only words that reach the ears of the virtuoso, who condescends at last -to comply with the wishes of the assemblage, and, after all the -inevitable monkey tricks, sings just passably a ballad of which it is -well understood that he will not pronounce the words intelligibly; and -he has hardly finished before the concert of praise begins anew, while -the impartial auditor, who had been led to expect something very -different, asks himself if he can believe his ears. Look you, my dear -neighbor, I confess that I have never been able to persuade myself to -increase the crowd that hovers about these social prodigies, in whom I -find nothing except inordinate self-esteem; or to swell the number of -adorers of a woman of fashion, whose coquetry is carried to such a point -that I blush for her and for those who surround her. Unquestionably, I -am as fond of a pretty woman as any other man; I will be the first to do -homage to her charms; but does that necessitate my exalting her to the -skies at all times and seasons, and overwhelming her with compliments -which, even if they are not extravagant, must none the less be tiresome -to the person to whom they are addressed? Must it be that she cannot -take a step without my praising her dress, her figure, her gait, her -foot, her grace? Can she not smile without my going into ecstasies over -her teeth, her mouth, and the expression of her eyes? Can she not utter -a word without my extolling her wit, her shrewdness, her tact, her -penetration, and the sweet tones of her voice? I may think it all, but I -won't say it; I should be afraid of bringing a blush to her cheek. I -know that I am considered far from gallant; that may injure me with some -ladies, but I have neither the power nor the desire to change. If -everybody did as I do, perhaps we should see less self-conceit and -arrogance in men, less coquetry and caprice in women; they would take -more trouble to be affable and agreeable, and everybody would be the -gainer.--What do you think about it, neighbor?" - -I saw that Raymond was not listening; he was examining the bunches of -orange blossoms that adorned my mantel, and seemed to be puzzled by the -old bouquets which I had collected on my commode, after taking out the -flowers that would not live. - -"You seem to be very fond of orange blossoms?" he said at last. - -"Very." - -"They have a very pleasant odor.--You must have twenty bunches of them -here." - -"I haven't counted them.--But will you do me the favor to tell me what -brings you to my rooms this morning? for I presume that you came for -some purpose." - -"True; I forgot it while looking at these bouquets. I have received an -invitation from Madame de Marsan for a party she is giving at her -country house the day after to-morrow; I suppose you are going, and I -came to suggest that we go together." - -"With pleasure; you know the way and you can be my guide." - -"With the greatest pleasure. By the way, how shall we go?" - -"We will hire a cabriolet, and keep it, so that we can return when we -choose." - -"That's the idea. I thought at first of going in the saddle--I am very -fond of riding; I have a very fine seat." - -"I have no doubt of your grace as a horseman; but we can't go to a party -at Madame de Marsan's in top-boots, so we won't go in the saddle." - -"True; I will undertake to provide a nice cabriolet; I know a liveryman. -At what time shall we start?" - -"At seven o'clock; we shall arrive at eight, which is the proper hour in -the country." - -"That's settled, then. I fancy we shall have some fun; I know the whole -party, so I can tell you who's who." - -"I thought you had been only twice to Madame de Marsan's." - -"Oh! that doesn't make any difference! once is enough for me to know -everybody; I have a certain amount of tact, of penetration--it's all a -matter of habit. In case they should want to give a theatrical -performance, I have an opera that I have just finished; I'll read it to -you on the road." - -"That will give me great pleasure." - -"I must take a look over it. Until Thursday, neighbor!" - -"Until Thursday!" - -Raymond left me, and I went to see Caroline. I found her at the window. -For several days past she had spent much time there, especially when she -was alone. Doubtless it was so that she could watch for my coming. It -seemed to me that she was gayer, more amiable, more fascinating, than -usual; pleasure gleamed in her eyes. - -"Ah! she loves me," I thought; "she loves me truly; she is grateful, she -has a feeling heart; she is coquettish only to please me. Before forming -a lasting attachment, she wanted to find someone worthy of her love; her -heart chose me, and I am sure that she will be true to me. I knew that, -with a little patience, I should find such a woman." - - - - -XIX - -THE TRIP TO THE COUNTRY - - -The day came when I was to go to Madame de Marsan's. I had told Caroline -that she would not see me that evening, and she had seemed greatly -disappointed, although we had had a little dispute the night before -concerning a certain cashmere shawl, which I saw that she ardently -coveted, and which I did not propose to give her. I had given her to -understand, in fact, that she did not need a cashmere shawl to be -charming; that she was more attractive to me in a simple and refined -costume; and we had parted on the most friendly terms. - -The clock struck seven; my toilet was completed. The concierge came to -inform me that the cabriolet had arrived and was waiting in the -courtyard. When it suited Raymond's convenience, we might start; but -what in the deuce was he still doing in his room? I concluded to -investigate. - -I found my neighbor just putting on his breeches. - -"What, Monsieur Raymond! haven't you got any further than that?" - -"Oh! I'll be ready in a moment, I assure you." - -"I'll bet that you won't be ready in half an hour." - -"Pshaw! you'll see how quick I am! While you are waiting, amuse yourself -by looking over my little water colors--my sketches; there are some very -good little things there, as you'll see. If I had more time to myself, -I'd go into oils and exhibit at the Salon, but I am never at liberty." - -"I advise you to stick to water colors; yours are quite remarkable." - -"Aren't they? There's true burlesque, originality for you; the Calot -sort of thing. Do you notice that _Suzanna at the Bath_?" - -"I thought it was a _Temptation of Saint Anthony_." - -"Oh! that's because it isn't finished. And that little -_Hop-o'-my-Thumb_--what do you say to that?" - -"I thought it was _Bluebeard_." - -"That's because he has on his seven-league boots." - -"Come, come, neighbor! You haven't got into your breeches yet!" - -"Ah! they're a delicate part of the costume, you know." - -"But nothing but long trousers are worn now, even at balls." - -"When a fellow has, as I have, a fine leg and a calf fit for a model, he -isn't sorry to show them.--Would you like to read my last verses, on the -Marquise Dsormeaux's favorite dog?" - -"No, thanks, much obliged!" - -"They have made quite a sensation. All the ladies are saying, in a -joking way, that they must have me to write their husbands' epitaphs. -The beginning is rather fine: - - "'O dog of nature, faithful animal!'" - -"I've heard of a man of nature; but I confess that this is the first -time I ever knew the epithet to be applied to a beast. So you think, my -dear Raymond, that animals may be moral perverts, do you?" - -"What's that! why, don't you see it every day? Look at the poor -creatures that have to dance and bow and caper and jump through rings to -the notes of the flageolet! They have received an education. The -marchioness's dog did everything she wanted him to; he snapped at -everybody who went near his mistress, and he jumped on the table during -dinner to eat out of the plates and dishes. That's the natural instinct, -and I maintain that 'dog of nature' is a very happy expression." - -"Come, come, Monsieur Raymond; drop your _dog_ and finish dressing. If -you spend so much time over every part of your costume, we shall not -arrive before midnight." - -"I am at your service. I have got on my boots and breeches; but it seems -to me there's a crease on the left-hand side behind." - -"When you have your coat on, nobody will see it." - -"True; but in walking or dancing, the coat tails spread." - -"Well! what does this crease amount to? do you think that the company is -going to keep its eye on your rump?" - -"I tell you, a crease may make a great difference in a man's looks; -women notice everything." - -"The woman who takes any notice of such things must have her hands full -at a large party!" - -"It sets better now. Ah! my cravat." - -"That will be a long job." - -"Oh, no! I have made a study of that article of dress, and it goes all -alone now. There! that's it. Ought I to turn the ends up or down?" - -"Turn them either way you choose; but try to make up your mind." - -"Well, I'll pull 'em out straight. What do you think of that knot?" - -"Beautiful! you are stunning!" - -"_Stunning_ is too strong a word; but I think that I look rather well; -I've just got three pins to put in." - -"Great God! we shan't get started at eight o'clock!" - -"The devil! this is terribly embarrassing; I ought to have thought about -it sooner." - -"What's the matter? have you another engagement?" - -"I don't know whether I ought to put this turquoise above or below my -emerald." - -"Morbleu! Monsieur Raymond, my patience is exhausted; I am going to -start without you." - -"Here I am! here I am, neighbor! Faith! I have put the turquoise above, -no matter what happens." - -"That's very fortunate." - -"Now, the coat--the hat--the gloves--and I'm all ready, you see." - -"Amazing! Let's be off." - -"All right. Oh! I beg your pardon: I forgot a scented handkerchief." - -We left the room at last. When Raymond had closed his door, he -discovered that he had not put his diamond ring on his little finger, so -he went back to repair that omission. We went downstairs; but on the -second landing, he failed to find his opera in his pocket, and went back -for that. When we arrived in the courtyard, he remembered that he had -not brought his favorite songs; and as he might be asked to sing, I must -wait while he went to fetch them. I registered a vow never to travel -again with Monsieur Raymond. At last, about a quarter past eight, we -entered the cabriolet; then he discovered that he had not his eyeglass; -but I was inexorable: I lashed the horse and we started. It was dark, so -that Raymond could not read me his opera; but to make up to me for the -deprivation, he proposed to tell me the plot. For more than an hour he -prosed away about a Spanish princess and an Arabian prince, her lover, -while I thought of Madame de Marsan, whom I was not at all sorry to see -again, and whom I was surprised that I had neglected so long. When we -reached Saint-Denis it was half-past nine; and I swore at Raymond, whose -dilatoriness and absurd affectations would make us arrive at Madame de -Marsan's unconscionably late. - -"Have we much farther to go?" I asked my neighbor, as we left -Saint-Denis behind. - -"Why, no; about three-fourths of a league only.--I was saying that my -princess, having been rescued from the burning palace, swoons at the end -of the second act.----" - -"You know the way, don't you?" - -"Yes, yes; drive on, I'll show you.--When the curtain rises for the -third act, the princess is in her lover's camp, lying on a cannon.----" - -"Have you been to this country house before?" - -"Once; but that's enough for me; I have such an accurate memory!--The -soldiers are resting on their pikes--or their muskets, for I am not -quite sure whether pikes were in use under King Ferdinand; but it makes -no difference. The prince, having no desire to sleep----" - -"I should say that we were told to go to the left." - -"No, no! straight ahead!--The prince, I say, is on his knees before the -princess, who is still unconscious; and he sings her a superb air, -_adagio_ in _D_ minor, to restore her.--I wrote the music, too. Can't -you see the tableau in your mind's eye?" - -"I see that if you don't drop your _prince_ and _princess_ soon, we -shall be in Montmorency, and that certainly isn't on our road. I'm too -good-natured, to sit here and listen to your nonsense. Here--as you are -so certain we're on the right road, just take the reins and drive." - -"Oh! I ask nothing better; I'll stake my head that we're not two hundred -yards from Madame de Marsan's." - -"But I don't see any light." - -"Because it's too dark a night.--This infernal horse has a mouth like -iron." - -"You worry him too much." - -"Ah! I see something.--Where are we, my man?" - -"Montmorency, monsieur," replied our groom. - -"Well! Monsieur Raymond, you want to see everything; you're a very -clever man!" - -"Don't be angry, my dear Dorsan; we'll take this road to the left; I -remember now that it leads straight to Madame de Marsan's." - -"I think we should do as well to return to Paris; it looks like a -storm." - -"What's the odds? then they'll have the party in the house." - -"The party! Parbleu! we may be there by eleven o'clock!" - -"We shall be there at ten; I must whip this infernal beast." - -"Oh! I am beginning to be resigned; I am going to make the best of it." - -"They are longing for us to come, I am sure!--Go on, you villain, go -on!" - -"Say rather that they have forgotten all about us." - -"Oh! men like us aren't so easily forgotten.--Go on, you wretched nag!" - -"Look out! you're whipping him too hard; he's running away now." - -"Mon Dieu! that's so; he's got the bit in his teeth!" - -"Hold him in! jerk the reins!" - -"I can't hold him, my friend; I am pulling as hard as I can. Mon Dieu! -he's turning into the fields; we are lost!" - -"Oh! don't be frightened; he'll stop.--Get down, boy, and see if you can -stop him." - -Our groom had already alighted, but he did not follow us, which made me -think that he was hurt. Our steed galloped on, across fields and plowed -lands and lanes. I took the reins from my companion, who was no longer -in a condition to see anything, but trembled in every limb and shouted -for help at the top of his voice. To put the finishing touch to our -misfortunes, the storm broke with great violence: the clouds burst, the -rain fell in torrents, and the wind blew with hurricane force in our -faces. Our horse did not stop; I began to apprehend some serious -accident; we were on a very steep hillside, and I expected every moment -to be overturned with the carriage. Luckily, our frantic animal's path -was blocked by a mass of vines; he stopped short, but in struggling to -extricate himself from the labyrinth of branches in which he was -entangled he plunged about with such violence that he finally threw us -out and fell with us. - -"I am dead!" cried Raymond, as he fell. Before making sure of that fact, -I tried to cut my way out of my prison, for the front of the cabriolet -was blocked by vine poles. I succeeded at last in getting out. I was not -hurt, not even a bruise. I thought myself very lucky to escape with -nothing worse than a fright. Since it was written that I should not -attend Madame de Marsan's entertainment, I made the best of it and -decided to endure as philosophically as possible the further -misadventures into which Raymond was sure to lead me. I went to inquire -into my companion's condition. He was groaning pitifully; was he really -hurt? If so, that would make our plight decidedly serious. I walked up -to Raymond, who had fallen half out of the cabriolet, with his face -against the ground. I shook his arm, and succeeded, not without -difficulty, in making him raise his head. The rain had already formed -pools, and the plowed earth had stuck to Raymond's face. He told me in a -feeble voice that he could hardly see. - -"That's nothing; turn your face toward the sky, and I'll answer for it -that the rain will very soon wash off the mud that covers your eyes." - -"You are right, my dear friend; I am well washed now, and I begin to see -more distinctly. Ah! I breathe again!" - -"Are you really hurt?" - -"Wait till I feel myself; I'm sore all over, but I believe that I -haven't any serious wound." - -"That's very fortunate!" - -"Ah! my friend! what a terrible accident!" - -"Whose fault is it?" - -"Look you--I lashed the horse, because you were in a hurry to get -there." - -"I advise you to put your crazy performances on my back!" - -"Here we are in a pretty plight! and the rain coming down in sheets! It -seems as if everything was in a conspiracy against us. Look! I even -smashed my hat when I fell." - -"Parbleu! what do I care for your hat!" - -"Look you, perhaps you care for my head, which is entirely unprotected. -I am wet through, covered with mud, battered and crushed. What a cold I -shall have! And my clothes! It was well worth while to dress! Open-work -stockings; and see, there's my shirt frill on that pole. Mon Dieu! it -wouldn't take much to knock me over!" - -"Come, come, Raymond! damnation! be a man! You're worse than a baby. We -must get out of this somehow." - -"Where's our groom?" - -"I'm afraid the poor devil hurt himself when he jumped down, and I -should be very much at a loss to know where to look for him." - -"If we could raise the carriage!" - -"But one wheel came off when it went over." - -"The devil himself took a hand in the job." - -"I'm afraid the horse has hurt himself on these poles.--This pleasure -party is like to cost us dear, neighbor." - -"Oh! you're very lucky to be able to take it so calmly! For my part, I -am crushed and furious at the same time!" - -"Come with me; let's try to find a house, some place of shelter at -least; but let us notice carefully what direction we take. Are you -coming?" - -"Wait a minute, till I make a cap of my handkerchief, to protect me a -little." - -We left the vineyard. I was obliged to take Raymond by the arm to get -him to move along; he was trembling so that he was afraid of falling at -every step. We walked for some ten minutes, constantly floundering in -holes filled with water, which it was too dark for us to see. I swore -and Raymond whined, anticipating an attack of pneumonia. At last we -discovered a little cottage, and the light that shone through the -windows indicated that the occupants were not in bed; for peasants are -not in the habit of keeping candles lighted while they are asleep. - -"We are saved!" cried Raymond; and he recovered the use of his legs to -run toward the house. But I held him back, fearing that he would -announce our presence in such a way as to prevent our being admitted. I -myself knocked at the door of the cottage. - -Peasants are rarely distrustful; the occupants of the cottage, being -very poor, had no fear of thieves. They opened the door, and I saw a -peasant woman in a large living room, surrounded by half a dozen -children. I explained our mishap, while Raymond, who had already entered -the room, peered into a great kettle to see what the peasants had for -supper, then came back to me and informed me that we shouldn't find much -of anything in that house. - -"What can I do for you, messieurs?" said the peasant, as she watched -Raymond prying into every corner. - -"Are we far from Montmorency?" - -"No; a fourth of a league at most." - -"We don't know the roads about here; be good enough to let us have your -biggest boy for a guide; we will pay you." - -As I spoke, I gave the woman three francs, which instantly disposed her -to make herself useful to us. - -"That's easy enough," she said; "Julien, go with these gentlemen.--If -you're tired, I can let you have some donkeys." - -"We shall be very glad of them, for, first of all, we must find our -groom, who must be somewhere in the neighborhood; and then we will try -to rescue our horse, for he ought not to pass the night in the fields." - -"Come, Julien, get the donkeys out of the stable.--I ought to tell you -that there's no saddles for 'em." - -"No matter; they will be very useful to us all the same." - -The donkeys were produced, and I paid on the spot for their hire; I took -a third one, for our groom, whom I hoped to find. Raymond hesitated a -long while before mounting his beast; he wanted saddle, stirrups, and -pads; he claimed to be able to ride like Franconi, but he could not sit -on a donkey. Tired to death by all his lamentations, I started off with -the young peasant, who rode the third donkey, and set out to find the -groom. Raymond, seeing that I had ceased to listen to him, decided to -follow me, clinging with one hand to the tail and with the other to the -mane of his steed. He urged the poor beast along in my wake, and we were -in the fields once more. - -I let my donkey take his own course. I called the groom at the top of my -lungs, and my companions did the same. At last someone answered us; we -rode in the direction of the voice and found our young man lying on the -ground, under a tree. The poor devil had sprained his foot and could not -walk. I put him on the peasant's donkey. It only remained for us to -unharness our horse, whom we found on the ground beside the cabriolet. -The rain had allayed the poor beast's ardor, and he finally allowed us -to raise him to his feet. Our guide assured us that he was uninjured; he -mounted him, took his place at our head, and the cavalcade set out for -Montmorency. - -All these details had taken time. It was after half-past eleven when we -left our little carriage, which I commended to the young peasant's care; -he promised to fetch a blacksmith to mend it at daybreak. We could have -gone much faster but for Raymond; he compelled us to stop every few -yards; his donkey refused to go, or else insisted on turning into -another road; and he uttered heartrending cries when we did not wait for -him. Luckily, the rain had ceased and it was a little less dark, so -that we could see where we were going. - -At midnight we caught sight of the first houses in Montmorency. Raymond -gave a joyful cry, whereat his donkey was frightened and jumped, -throwing its rider off into a muddy path, where he lost his shoes. As we -were a little ahead, Raymond was obliged to pick himself up unassisted; -the fear of losing us lent him strength, but his steed did not wait for -him, and he ended his journey running after the beast, which he caught -on the square just as we were dismounting. All the people of the inn had -gone to bed, but we knocked until they answered. They were surprised -that travellers should arrive so late; they would be far more surprised, -I thought, when they saw the condition we were in, especially Raymond, -whose last fall had plastered him with mud from head to foot. They -admitted us, however, but, as I had foreseen, they were taken aback by -our appearance. But I soon succeeded in telling my story. The landlord, -seeing that he had to do with people of standing, apologized to us and -hastened to show us to our rooms. They gave a room to our groom; the -horse was taken to the stable, and the peasant went home with his -donkeys. - -I ordered a brisk fire made, to dry our clothes, and requested the host -to serve whatever he had ready, for our misadventures had not taken away -our appetites. We were served with a chicken, ham, salad, and fruit. -While I took my place at the table, Raymond went into his bedroom, where -he ordered another fire lighted, and asked the girl who waited on us to -come to rub his back, so that he might avoid an illness. She was a -robust peasant of some twenty years, not of the type to be afraid of a -man. Still, Raymond's proposition struck her as rather peculiar; she -looked at him with a smile and seemed to hesitate. - -"Go with him," I said to her, "and don't be afraid; monsieur is thinking -of nothing but his health, and I'll answer for his behavior." - -While my companion was being rubbed, I did justice to the supper, and -dried myself thoroughly in front of the fire. The bedroom door was not -closed, and I could hear Raymond urging the servant on and complimenting -her on her skill. The buxom damsel must have been tired, she had rubbed -him so long, but Raymond seemed to enjoy it. Soon I concluded that the -fire and the servant's ministrations had entirely restored my friend's -animation, for he began to be enterprising, and I heard the girl exclaim -that she would not stand it. And I had answered for his behavior! How -can you trust anyone? - -But the noise continued in the adjoining room; and at last the girl fled -into the room where I was, roaring with laughter, and pursued by -Monsieur Raymond in shirt and drawers and a pair of the innkeeper's -slippers. - -"Won't you keep quiet the rest of the night, Monsieur Raymond? Am I to -have no peace with you?" said I. - -"Oh! what eyes, my friend! Ah! the hussy, if she would!" - -"Yes, but the trouble is I won't, Monsieur Insolent!" - -"Come, Raymond, let the girl go to bed; it's late and this is no time to -rouse the whole inn. I've no desire to get into any more trouble for -your lovely eyes.--Leave us, my girl! we don't want anything more." - -"I say, my dear, where's your room; do tell me where it is?" - -"What business is it of yours?" - -"Tell me, all the same, you sly minx, and you won't be sorry." - -"Well, I sleep upstairs, at the end of the hall." - -"Good; I understand." - -The servant left us, and Raymond sat down at the table. - -"I trust," said I, "that you don't propose to run after that girl? She's -fooling you." - -"No, no! I was joking, that's all. She's as solid as a rock!" - -"She ought to know whether you are or not, for she rubbed you long -enough." - -"Yes, indeed; the hussy knows!" - -"It doesn't seem to have disposed her in your favor." - -"Bah! didn't she tell me where her room was?" - -"Don't you trust her." - -"Oh! I've no desire to go after her, as you can imagine; but, one thing -is sure, and that is, that if I chose, I should have everything my own -way." - -"I don't believe it." - -"Do you want to bet?" - -"No; because you would indulge in some pleasant little performance which -would make my night as agreeable as my evening has been; and I confess -that I've had enough of that sort of thing for to-day. Good-night, -Monsieur Raymond! I am going to bed, and I advise you to do the same." - -"Yes, neighbor, yes, I'll do the same. Sleep well. Your servant!" - -Raymond took his candle with an offended air and went to his room, -locking the door behind him. I laughed at the crazy fellow's pretensions -and folly, and got into bed, where I soon fell asleep. A noise, the -nature of which I could not determine, soon woke me. I listened, and -called to Raymond, to find out if he were ill; he did not answer, and I -heard nothing more, so I went to sleep again. I did not wake until eight -o'clock; the sun was shining brightly into my room, indicating a lovely -day. As I was at Montmorency, although against my will, I would at all -events enjoy the delightful walks in the neighborhood and have a taste -of the pleasures of the country before returning to Paris. Our cabriolet -could not be repaired as yet, and we should have to wait for it. - -While I was dressing, I called to Raymond and asked him if he wanted to -take a walk before breakfast. He did not answer; apparently he was still -asleep. But his door was ajar, and I seemed to remember that he had -closed it the night before. I entered, and called him again: - -"Come, come, lazybones! it's late; wake up!" - -No answer. I looked at his bed: he was not there. So he had risen -earlier than I and gone out before me. I was turning away, when I saw -Raymond's coat, waistcoat, and breeches spread out on chairs, where he -had put them to dry. What! he had gone out without coat or breeches? -that was very strange! Thereupon, I remembered my neighbor's schemes, -his dallying with the servant, and the wager he proposed when he was -eating his supper. My uncertainty was at an end: Monsieur Raymond had -set out to prove to me that he was not to be resisted; he had gone to -lie with the stout damsel who had wiped him and rubbed him so -thoroughly. But inn servants do not stay in bed until eight o'clock; the -girl must have been up long before. Why had Raymond not returned to his -bed? Did he want the whole household to know where he had passed the -night? I did not see the point of that very clearly; however, I -determined to ascertain the fact. I called and rang; the same servant -appeared; her aspect was unchanged; she had a smile on her lips, her big -eyes were wide open, and her manner alert and determined. She had -anything but a bashful air; I supposed that she was probably accustomed -to nocturnal visits. I looked at her and laughed. - -"Did you call, monsieur?" - -"Yes, my child." - -"What can I do for you?" - -"How is our groom?" - -"Oh! he's all right, monsieur; they've put a compress on his foot." - -"And the carriage?" - -"That don't amount to much--only a matter of a couple of hours. But the -man who owns the vineyard where you upset followed after the blacksmith; -he wants his pay for the damage you did on his land; he says you pulled -up more'n a dozen vines." - -"Good! we have got to pay him because we nearly killed ourselves on his -poles; let him have a hundred sous.--By the way, my lass, tell me now -what you've done with my friend?" - -"With your friend?" - -"Yes; the gentleman who came with me." - -"Oh! the man that lost his shoes, and that I had to rub so long!" - -"Exactly." - -"Pardi! I haven't done anything with him, and I wouldn't have anything -to do with him, although he was after me like a thirsty dog! Mon Dieu! -what a fellow!" - -"It's no use to pretend, my dear; he slept with you; I don't see any -harm in that, but where in the devil is he now?" - -"What's that you say? he slept with me? Bless my soul! that's a good -one! It's a lie, d'ye hear! I don't sleep with anybody that don't suit -me, and your big baby didn't suit me at all. Has he got the face to say -that? Ah! I'd tear his eyes out if I heard him!" - -"It seems to me that when you tell him where your room is, you shouldn't -make so much noise because of what I've said to you." - -"My room! I told him where my room was! Good Lord! do you mean to tell -me---- Ha! ha! ha!" - -The servant, who had turned purple with wrath, suddenly began to roar -with laughter. I waited a long while for that outburst of merriment to -cease; the buxom creature held her sides, and was obliged to sit down -before she could speak. She recovered herself at last. - -"Let me tell you, monsieur, that the door I mentioned to your friend -ain't the door to my room at all, but it leads into a big room like a -loft, where there's a lot of sun and it's always dry as a bone; that's -why the master picked it out to keep the fruits he's going to preserve, -such as pears and apples and grapes; and then provisions, such as bacon -and ham and sausages!" - -"Whatever you choose; but I suppose he keeps the room locked?" - -"Yes, monsieur; but, for all that, he swore that things kept being -stolen; and for the last few days, I don't know whether it's to catch -the thieves or not, but I've noticed that the door was only latched." - -"And that is where you sent my companion?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"I don't see what he can have been doing there all night. But he must be -somewhere. Come, my girl, take me to your storeroom." - -"I'll go and get the master, because we ain't allowed to go there." - -"I don't care for the prohibition; I must find my companion, who can't -have gone to visit the Hermitage or to walk in the valley, in his shirt -and drawers." - -"That's so; it ain't the custom." - -Paying no heed to the servant, who went to tell her master, I left my -room, ascended the stairs, and walked through a long corridor, at the -end of which I saw a door. It was at some distance from the inhabited -portion of the house; and I could understand that Raymond might easily -have called without making himself heard. But why had he remained there? -That is what I was determined to know. I pushed the door, which was not -locked, and saw Raymond with one leg in a trap, sitting upon a pile of -hams, where he had fallen asleep. - -My arrival made him open his eyes. He held out his arms with an -expression which I cannot describe. - -"Ah! my friend! my savior! set me free, I implore you!" - -"What in the devil are you doing here?" - -"I am caught like a rat in a trap, as you see; I can't budge. I've been -here since one o'clock this morning; I shouted and called, but no one -came, and I had to make the best of it. When I found that no one heard -me, I sat down on the first thing I could find, and at last I fell -asleep; but I ache in every limb. I shan't forget Montmorency!" - -I was sorely tempted to laugh, but Raymond's long face aroused my pity. -I was trying to release him from the trap, but to no purpose, when our -host arrived with the servant. At sight of the latter, my poor companion -made a horrible face, while the girl laughed till she cried. - -"Aha! morgu! so I have caught my thief!" said the landlord, as soon as -he caught sight of Raymond; but when he came nearer, he was greatly -surprised to recognize the guest to whom he had lent his slippers. -Raymond told a not improbable story of a trifling indisposition which -surprised him in the night and compelled him to seek a certain place -which he thought was upstairs; and in that way he had fallen into the -trap set in the storeroom. - -Our host apologized profusely. He alone knew the secret of the trap, and -he hastened to release my companion. Raymond went to his room to dress; -but he was in a savage humor and did not care to inspect the outskirts -of Montmorency. He was afraid that the night he had passed on the hams, -in his shirt, would give him the rheumatism, and he longed for the -moment when we might start for Paris. I might have joked my neighbor on -the hard luck that pursued him in his _bonnes fortunes_, but I was -considerate and held my peace. I left him to rub his own shoulders, -legs, and posteriors; and, after breakfasting, sallied forth alone to -visit those delightful spots which Grtry and Jean-Jacques still adorn; -for men of genius never wholly die. I will not describe scenes with -which the reader is as familiar as myself; I should teach him nothing, -and if I should make any blunders they would be detected; but if some -day I visit a distant and desert country, if I see some Gothic chteau -or some chapel tumbling to decay, I promise you a glowing description of -it; for then I shall be able to say whatever comes into my head, without -fear of contradiction. - -Let us return to Raymond. He waited impatiently for my return from my -walk. The cabriolet was mended, the horse harnessed, and we were at -liberty to start. I helped in my two invalids, for Raymond was little -better off than the groom; he could hardly move. I took my seat between -them, and, after paying the innkeeper's account, which included the -slippers in which my companion returned to Paris, we started for the -capital, where we arrived without accident, because I did not allow -Monsieur Raymond to take the reins. On reaching our abode, we dismissed -the cabriolet and gave the groom something by way of compensation for -his sprained foot, which would keep him in the house a few days. I paid -everything and presented to my companion a statement of our expenses -overnight, as follows: - - _F. C._ - - For the cabriolet, which we kept one day longer than - we intended 30 00 - - For the peasant woman and her son, who acted as our - guide and helped us to pick up our horse 6 00 - - For the hire of three donkeys at midnight 9 00 - - For repairing the cabriolet 12 00 - - For injury to vines 5 00 - - For accommodation at the inn, lodging, supper, and - breakfast 28 00 - - For slippers for Monsieur Raymond 2 50 - - For the servant who rubbed Monsieur Raymond 3 00 - - For fire on two hearths, a most unusual thing in inns 2 00 - - For the groom, who sprained his foot trying to stop our - horse 20 00 - ______ - - Total 117 50 - -On examining the items of expense of our pleasure party, to which he -might have added his costume, which was almost completely ruined, from -the hat to the shoes, Raymond heaved a profound sigh, and he was rather -long about taking from his purse the fifty-eight francs seventy-five -centimes that he owed me. Our account being adjusted at last, we betook -ourselves to our respective apartments. - - - - -XX - -SUSPICIONS OF THE MIND.--APPREHENSIONS OF THE HEART - - -Thanks to my neighbor, I had not availed myself of Madame de Marsan's -courteous invitation; but I proposed to go soon to make my excuses to -her, and I would be careful to go alone; it seemed to me that that would -be preferable in every way. - -Doubtless Caroline was awaiting me impatiently; I must make haste to put -an end to her anxiety. I had promised to return during the night; but -unforeseen events---- It was after two o'clock in the afternoon, when I -hastened to Rue Caumartin. - -This time she was not at her window; but could I expect her to give -herself a twist in the neck in order to see me a moment sooner? No! I -was too sensible to demand that. I went upstairs and rang--no answer. -She had gone out! She had probably got tired of waiting for me, and had -gone out for a walk, perhaps to make some new purchases. There was -nothing for me to do but to go away and return; but I concluded to ring -once more. I did so, to no purpose. I went downstairs in an ill humor, -because I was annoyed; nothing annoys one more than a postponed -pleasure. I had no right to be angry because she had gone out; still, it -seemed to me that she might have waited for me. I walked away, -scratching my ear; indeed, I believe that I scratched my head. Was it a -presentiment? Alas! I had never yet found a faithful woman! But I had -vowed not to distress myself beforehand; that never does any good. I -determined to do my best not to distress myself afterward either! I -should be more certain of being happy. - -As I turned into the boulevard, I saw her. What a costume for a morning -walk! She caught sight of me and seemed embarrassed. She came toward me, -however. We both smiled, but I believe that neither of us felt any -inclination that way; it is so easy to distinguish a forced smile! - -"Ah! here you are at last!" - -"Yes: does that surprise you?" - -"I didn't expect you so late." - -"I quite believe that you didn't expect me." - -"Have you just come from my rooms?" - -"Yes; and you?" - -"I have been for a little walk." - -"What a dress!" - -"I don't see anything uncommon about it." - -"Not in comparison with the one you wore on Rue des Rosiers?" - -"You always have something unkind to say!" - -"I don't see what there is unkind in what I said." - -"I suppose you'd have me go out in cap and apron!" - -"They wouldn't be unbecoming to you." - -"But I have no desire to wear them." - -"Oh! I believe you!" - -"To hear you, anyone would think that before you knew me I was a stupid, -awkward country girl!" - -"I am well aware that you were not an innocent maid." - -"Are we going to stay here on the boulevard all night? I am going home; -are you coming with me?" - -I hesitated; but I went with her. When we were in her apartment, -Caroline joked me about my severe air. In truth, what right had I to -reproach her? I was far from amiable sometimes, I knew; and a man who -scolds and grumbles is seldom loved. True; but a man who is loved never -appears to scold; he is always right. I kissed Caroline, and peace was -made. We dined together, and I took her to the theatre; but although I -did my best to amuse her, she did not seem to enjoy herself very much. -She appeared to be distraught, preoccupied; I was almost tempted to find -fault with her, but I restrained myself, for she would have said that I -was always complaining! But if she had been as she used to be, I should -have had no cause to complain. Ah! I say again, when a man ceases to be -lovable, it means that he is no longer loved. - -It was near midnight when I went home. A secret hope led me to grasp the -knob hurriedly. No bouquet! and yet it was the day! Could Nicette have -forgotten me? That would have caused me a pang, a very sharp pang. But -what childish nonsense! How could I expect her to bring me flowers all -the year round, when I did not condescend to go to her to bid her -good-morning? In the depths of my heart, however, I was not indifferent -to those tokens of her remembrance of me; I was touched by them, much -more, perhaps, than I supposed; I realized it from the grief that I felt -at her neglect; I had become so accustomed to that homage! It seemed to -me that it was my due. Why should I conceal it? I flattered myself that -Nicette loved me; I believed her to be capable of constancy; and while I -did not choose to abuse her love, I was not at all sorry to inspire it. -I determined to investigate her conduct; I determined to see her, to -speak to her. I would rise the next morning at six and prowl about the -little flower girl's booth. What strange mortals we are! For a whole -month I had neglected Nicette; and because I thought that she had -forgotten me, I was consumed by a longing to see her again, to know what -she was doing and what her sentiments were! Was it love, self-esteem, -jealousy, vanity, or simple curiosity on my part? Call it what you -please, it was as I have described it. - -As for Caroline, I determined not to torment myself any more about her; -she was either faithful or unfaithful; in the first case, I was wrong to -suspect her; in the second, she deserved neither my love nor my regrets. -That is a very fine dilemma which I propose to all jealous lovers, -present and future. But they will reply that when a man is able to talk -sensibly he is not in love. To that I have nothing to say, for I am -inclined to think that it is true. - -I was up at six o'clock. At that hour I was quite certain not to meet -any acquaintances before whom I should blush to be seen speaking to a -street peddler. I soon reached the place where Nicette was accustomed to -display her wares. But I saw nothing; could it be that I was too early? -had she moved to another quarter? I accosted a messenger whose stand was -a few feet away; those fellows know everything. - -"My friend, wasn't there a flower girl who used to stand in front of -this house?" - -"Yes, monsieur; she was here up to a week ago." - -"And she no longer stands here?" - -"Oh! she isn't very far off. Thirty yards or so farther along you'll see -a little shop; that's where she is now." - -"A shop, do you say?" - -"Yes, monsieur; it isn't very big, but it's well arranged, all the -same." - -I turned to walk away--but perhaps that man could tell me something. -Nicette had a shop; what was I to conclude from that? I trembled to -think! Had some other man been more fortunate than I? had she listened -to some other man? and did another possess that treasure which I might -have obtained and which it had cost me such a struggle to respect? - -I returned to the messenger, put some money in his hand, and began to -question him. - -"Do you know this flower girl?" - -"Yes, monsieur, I know her--not very well, though, for she's a bit -proud; she don't talk much to anybody but her customers; and even then -you mustn't say too much, or she'll send you about your business. Oh! -she's a good girl, I tell you! She's virtuous, and the virtuous ones are -always noticed." - -The man's praise of Nicette caused me the keenest delight; I should have -been sorry to learn that I could no longer esteem her. - -"You say that she's virtuous, eh?" - -"Yes, monsieur; we messengers know what's what; and then, I see -everything that goes on. It isn't that Mamzelle Nicette lacks lovers. -Oh! pardi! the whole quarter, if she chose! she's so pretty! and she has -a fine lot of customers. It's hardly six weeks since she set up on this -street; but the young men soon spied her, and there's a whole mob of -dandies that come to buy flowers, just to make love to her, you -understand. But Mamzelle Nicette don't sell anything but bouquets. I -must do her that justice. She won't listen to the swells any more than -the footmen; and when some sly fellow orders flowers of her, to have her -bring them to him, he gets caught, for she just sends them by the -wigmaker's little girl." - -I walked away, overjoyed by all that I had learned; in two bounds I was -in front of Nicette's shop. She was already arranging her jars of -flowers on boards placed outside, in the street. When she saw me, she -gave a cry of surprise, dropped the carnations she had in her hand, -blushed scarlet, and could hardly stammer: - -"What! is it you, monsieur?" - -I smiled at her astonishment and entered her shop, where I seated myself -on a stool and looked at her.--How pretty she was! Joy made her even -prettier, and glistened in the look with which she met mine. - -"Is it really you, Monsieur Dorsan, you, in my shop? Ah! I didn't expect -such a pleasure! I had stopped hoping for it!" - -"Why so, Nicette?" - -"Why--it is so long!" - -"That is true. But I have things to do which make it impossible----" - -"Oh! I believe you, monsieur. Besides, aren't you your own master? and -how can you give a thought to a girl who sells flowers?" - -There was something so touching in the way she spoke, that I was deeply -moved. How could I ever have forgotten such charm, such innocence, such -susceptibility? I could not understand it. - -She was still standing in front of me; I took her hand, and I believe -that I was actually on the point of drawing her down on my knees. She -made no resistance; she glanced anxiously about, but had not the -strength to go away from me. What imprudence! what was I doing? We were -in full sight of passers-by, and someone might come in at any minute. -She had nothing but her reputation, and I was about to besmirch it! -Poor child! she would sacrifice it to me, in her dread of displeasing -me. - -I dropped her hand and moved away from her, looking toward the street. -She understood me, and thanked me with her eyes. - -"So you were able to hire a shop, Nicette?" - -"Yes, monsieur; I've made a lot since I've been in this quarter. I am -economical and spend very little; I am sure that I can get along all -right. I don't think I did wrong, did I?" - -"No; I know that you are behaving as well as possible." - -"You know it?" - -"I have never doubted it. Your bouquets have shown me, moreover, what a -grateful heart you have." - -"Oh! can I ever forget what you did for me?" - -"Haven't you made any acquaintances on this street?" - -"No, monsieur; I don't want to make any." - -"Aren't you bored, being all alone?" - -"How can I be bored? I always have something to think about?" - -"What do you do in the evening?" - -"I read, and I am learning to write." - -"Do you know how to write?" - -"A little; before long I shall know how to write well, I hope. There's -an old gentleman who gives me lessons sometimes." - -"What need is there of your knowing any more than you do?" - -"That's true, monsieur; if you don't want me to, I won't learn any -more." - -"Oh! I don't say that. Study, Nicette, since you enjoy it; you weren't -born to sell flowers. But take my advice, and don't try to rise above -the condition in which fate has placed you; it rarely succeeds." - -"Oh! I'm not trying to do anything of the sort, monsieur; I'd just like -to be not quite so stupid as I used to be." - -"My dear girl, you may be ignorant, but you can't be stupid; you will -always be charming; your natural wit does not need the resources of -education to attract esteem, any more than your charms need the help of -art to win admiration. Ah! Nicette, be always as you are now, as I first -saw you! Do not change!" - -She listened to me in silence; her sweet glance approved all that I -said; we understood each other so well! But impatient customers were -already beginning to look at her flowers; I felt that I must go. I said -adieu, but I continued to stand in front of her. It was impossible to -take a kiss, I realized that; she divined my thought, and we both -sighed. To part so coldly! Ah! if we had been in my room! I was certain -that I had but to say the word, and she would come; but I refrained from -saying it, for she would have been lost. I pressed her hand and fled. I -felt that I must fly from her, in order not to adore her. - - - - -XXI - -CONFIDENCE - - -As a fortunate change in our destiny reconciles us to life, as a lucky -throw of the dice brings us nearer to wealth, as a noble deed reconciles -the misanthrope to mankind, as the acceptance of a play calms the wrath -of an author, as a bottle of old wine makes the drunkard forget his -pledges, as a sunbeam causes the traces of the storm to disappear, so -the sight of a pretty woman makes us forget our virtuous resolutions, -her love banishes from our hearts the memory of our last mistress's -perfidy, and her virtues reconcile us to women in general, whom we take -a vow to shun whenever we are deceived, and whom we do not shun, because -it is not in nature to do it. - -Thus the sight of Nicette always led me to esteem her more highly. I -reproached myself for sometimes speaking ill of a sex which contains -models of sensibility, refinement, and sweetness, and which often -redeems a weakness by a hundred estimable qualities. The result in this -instance was that I thought I had done wrong to suspect Caroline, that -nothing in her conduct ought to arouse my jealousy, and that, by -reproaches and unfounded distrust, we often embitter a heart that we -might have made ours forever. - -I even went so far as to say to myself that it was my own fault that I -had been deceived so often, and that I had invariably done the opposite -of what one should do to retain a woman's love. We go very far with the -syllogisms that we propound to ourselves. At the rate at which I was -going on, I might have ended by satisfying myself that the infidelities -of our female friends are simply the consequences of our behavior toward -them, when I happened to pass Tortoni's just as Raymond went in with a -man of some sixty years, with an awkward figure, and an inane, -disagreeable face, who was obliged to use a cane to support his left -leg, but whose costume denoted wealth and his manner a remnant of -dandyism. - -I was not at all anxious to sit down with them, despite Raymond's -entreaties; he exclaimed at once that we must breakfast together. I -pretended not to hear him, and took my place in a corner, at some -distance from Raymond, of whom I had fought shy since our trip to -Montmorency. But, as I drank my chocolate, I noticed that the -conversation of the two gentlemen was very animated. I was convinced -that the gouty old fellow was telling his friend about some amorous -affairs, which he took pains to vaunt in the highest terms so that he -might still pose as a gay young rake. Would he not do better, I thought, -to attend to his infirmities? He rose at last, and I supposed that -Raymond would go with him; but, no: he remained behind and joined me at -my table. - -"Good-morning, my friend! Well! have we recovered from the fatigue of -travel?" - -"You are the one to answer that question. Thank heaven! I didn't sleep -on a pile of hams, with my leg caught like a plump lark!" - -"Ah! the sly hussy! I admit that I looked a good deal like a sparrow; -but I don't feel it now, I rubbed myself so hard yesterday! I used up -two bottles of cosmetic for the skin, and three phials of Ceylon oil; -so that I have recovered all my elasticity this morning. Tell me, do -you know that man who was with me just now?" - -"No." - -"That was Monsieur de Grandmaison." - -"I never heard of him." - -"He's a very rich man, enormously rich!" - -"He's enormously ugly!" - -"He's an ex-financier, contractor, promoter." - -"Yes, I understand." - -"He gives delightful balls." - -"Not for himself, surely." - -"Oh! he's still quite a rake." - -"He doesn't look it." - -"Because he drags his leg a little; but that doesn't prevent his making -conquests." - -"From buying them, you mean." - -"That's what I mean; but it all comes to the same thing. Between -ourselves, I admit that he didn't invent gunpowder, and that his -education is confined to the rules of subtraction and multiplication, -which he understands perfectly. But still, for all that, he has the -prettiest women in Paris." - -"That doesn't speak well for the prettiest women in Paris." - -"He was telling me just now of a new intrigue he is on the point of -consummating. Ha! ha! it's most amusing! She's a ravishing young beauty, -and he is going to steal her from a young man." - -"Some kept woman." - -"It seems that the little one is worth her price, and that she hangs -back; and then, too, the young man, who is jealous no doubt, keeps her -very close. For all that, they've seen each other--at the window, in the -first place; then, letters and propositions. Grandmaison, who knows how -to manage such affairs, talked about cashmere shawls and diamonds! The -little one's a coquette, and it seems that her young lover keeps her on -a bourgeois footing. The poor fellow will soon be plundered." - -I had a feeling of uneasiness, which as yet I dared not analyze; -Raymond's story, to which I had listened mechanically, interested me -deeply at last; the words _window_, _cashmere shawls_, and _diamonds_ -aroused vague suspicions in my mind, which I blushed to harbor when I -recalled Monsieur de Grandmaison's age and appearance. My self-esteem -refused to admit that such a rival could be preferred to me; but a -secret voice told me that self-esteem often deceives us. I determined to -ascertain the truth, and I proceeded to ask Raymond certain questions, -which, I was sure, would prove to me that I was wrong to torment myself. - -"Where does this Monsieur de Grandmaison live?" - -"Rue Caumartin, in a magnificent house that he owns; it's just at the -end of the street, near the boulevard." - -I felt a shudder run through my whole body, my gorge rose, a weight -descended on my breast--all in a second, and as the result of a mere -word. I continued my questions, however, affecting the utmost -tranquillity. - -"And this young beauty?" - -"Lives just opposite him, in a small house where there's no concierge, -on the second floor front. Grandmaison saw her first at her window; it's -a broad street, but he has an excellent glass that he had made to watch -the ballets at the Opra. It's a little telescope; it brings everything -right under your eyes, and you can imagine how pleasant it is, while a -dancer is making a pirouette, to fasten it on----" - -"Well, go on: this young woman?" - -"As I was saying, he assured himself with his glass that she was young, -pretty, well built, and not faded. Oh! his glass is invaluable for -that!" - -"But the lover?" - -"The lover doesn't live with her. He goes very often to see her; but he -doesn't sit at the window, naturally; so that Grandmaison has only -caught a glimpse of him, for she is careful to leave the window as soon -as the young man arrives." - -"Well?" - -"Well, everything is going as smoothly as possible. Grandmaison took the -little one to a closed box at the Opra night before last, the lover -being in the country." - -At that point, I could no longer control myself, and, entirely -unconscious of what I was doing, I struck the table between my neighbor -and myself such a violent blow that the cup of chocolate bounded up into -his face as he leaned over the table to speak to me. The bulk of the -liquid deluged Raymond's waistcoat and shirt frill. He jumped back, -startled by the gesture that had escaped me. Ashamed of having allowed -my trouble, my wrath, my frenzy, to appear, I tried to recover myself; I -composed my features and apologized. Raymond, uncertain whether he could -safely approach me, asked for a glass of water to clean his face. - -"Pardon! a thousand pardons! my dear Raymond, I don't know what caught -me then.--You were saying that, the day before yesterday----" - -"You gave me a terrible fright. Are you subject to nervous spasms?" - -"No, no! it was mere absent-mindedness.--You were saying----" - -"The devil! you ought to look after that. Thanks to you, I have got to -go home to change my waistcoat and shirt." - -"Oh! that's nothing.--So, the night before last he took the young woman -to a closed box at the Opra, eh?" - -"Yes, yes.--Is there any more on my face?" - -"None at all; you look splendid. Go on." - -This compliment restored Raymond's good humor; he tucked his frill out -of sight and resumed the conversation. - -"Yes, they were there, in a box----" - -"So, it's all over, is it?" - -"Oh, no! not yet. The beauty hangs back, you understand, and Grandmaison -isn't the man to push matters so fast--with his bad leg, he needs all -the conveniences. Oh! if it had been one of us two, that would have been -the end; we are sad rascals, you know!" - -"But since then?" - -"He saw the little one again yesterday morning, outside the walls. He -promised to give her a magnificent cashmere shawl, genuine Turkish, -to-night, if she'd take supper with him at his house; moreover, a -complete apartment, a lady's-maid, a carriage at her service, and a -hundred louis a month, to say nothing of presents, if she would agree to -stay." - -"Well?" - -"She has accepted." - -"She has accepted!" - -I sprang to my feet so suddenly that Raymond recoiled and looked at me -uneasily. - -"Did it take you again, neighbor?" - -"No, nothing's the matter. Let us go out and get a breath of air." - -And I took Raymond's arm and led him away. He followed me, making a wry -face. Doubtless I pinched his arm without noticing it, for he begged me -to let it alone; but I did not hear him. - -"My dear Dorsan, your muscles keep contracting; let my arm alone, -please." - -"Oh! these women! these women! But why do I feel this weight at my -heart? for I do not love her." - -"Let me go, my friend, I entreat you!" - -"Oh! it's because it is cruel to be constantly deceived in this way! to -be fooled again and again! and for whom, I ask you?" - -"I don't know what you ask me, but let me go; you hurt me; I shall be -obliged to call for help." - -"But is it really she, after all? I must confound her.--Raymond!" - -I turned toward my companion, and not until then did I notice his -piteous expression and terrified eyes; I released his arm, and, becoming -a little calmer, asked him what the matter was. - -"The matter! Faith! you seem to have attacks of brain fever; you squeeze -my arm so that you make me yell, and you utter exclamations that I don't -understand." - -"I was thinking about something that I'll tell you of later. But let us -go back to this intrigue of your friend: it interests me very much. -Monsieur de Grandmaison sups to-night with his new conquest?" - -"Yes, to-night." - -"I am very curious to see this woman who you say is so pretty." - -"Faith! so am I, for I don't know her any more than you do, and I am -looking forward to seeing her." - -"What! you are to see her?" - -"Certainly; I am invited to the supper, with five or six agreeable -rous, intimate friends of Grandmaison. As he is naturally a little -stupid, when he has told a woman that he'd like--you understand--he -can't think of anything else to say to her to amuse her; and as he -desires to be sparing of his pleasures, because he's not so robust as -you and I are, he reserves his ardor for the night; he always invites a -number of friends to supper, in order to put his charmer in the right -mood." - -"A most excellent device, and very pleasant for his guests!" - -"You must understand that we always get something out of it. These -women, when they have a large stock of susceptibility, are never -satisfied with Grandmaison, who's an invalid!" - -"I understand: you are his friend and deputy." - -"I am whatever anyone wants me to be! Oh! we have great sport at these -little supper parties! we laugh like lunatics! The food is delicious and -the wines exquisite! no constraint, no ceremony; we joke and sing and -drink; and the jests, the puns, the remarks with a double meaning, the -spicy anecdotes, the smutty couplets! There's a rolling fire of them; -everybody talks at once, and nobody hears what the others say; it's -delicious!" - -"You make me regret that I am not one of you." - -"Would you like to be, my dear fellow? Parbleu! if you would, I will -venture to introduce you." - -"Really! could you do it?" - -"I can do anything I choose! you know very well that everything succeeds -that I undertake." - -"I had forgotten that. But this Monsieur de Grandmaison doesn't know -me." - -"What difference does that make? I know you, and that's enough! -Introduced by Raymond, you will be welcome." - -"Do you think that I might venture?" - -"Why, of course! So long as a man is hilarious and tells amusing -stories, he's sure of being well received at Grandmaison's; that's why -he's so fond of me." - -"Oh! if it's only a matter of providing amusement, I promise you some -for this evening." - -"You're our man; it's agreed, then. Meet me at the Caf Anglais at ten -o'clock; that's the hour of meeting." - -"I will be there, I give you my word." - -"But if you will accept my advice, you'll take a little orange-flower -water to calm your nerves." - -"Never fear! I shan't have another attack." - -"Good-bye, then, until ten o'clock to-night!" - -Raymond left me, and I reflected long upon all that I had learned. The -woman was Caroline; I could not doubt it; and yet a feeble ray of hope -still gleamed in the depths of my heart. I determined to go to her, but -to conceal my feelings, and to try, if possible, to read her heart, to -detect her treachery in her eyes. But, above all, I would be sensible, -philosophical, and try to penetrate myself with the truth of these two -lines: - - "Let dandies rage, let fools cry lack-a-day; - The wise man, cozened, silent goes away." - - - - -XXII - -THE LITTLE SUPPER PARTY - - -I arrived at her apartment. My appearance did not seem to embarrass her; -she greeted me with a smile and spoke to me as usual. Could it be that I -had suspected her wrongfully? But she did not observe my agitation! The -secret excitement which I strove to conceal would not have escaped the -eyes of love! They see everything, divine everything! And Caroline asked -me no questions, although I was on fire and talked at random; although I -was momentarily on the point of exploding and could hardly refrain from -outward manifestations of the torments I was undergoing!--No, she did -not love me. - -I told her that I intended to pass the day with her. I fancied that I -could detect embarrassment in her glance; but she speedily recovered -herself. - -"You always give me pleasure by staying with me," she said at last, in -that soft voice which had fascinated me at our meeting on the boulevard. -Ah! such voices are as deceitful as the others! - -In vain did I try to compose my features and assume a cheerful air; I -could not manage it. I felt as if something were choking me, suffocating -me. I had had that feeling so often!--I went to the window, but -instantly turned away; I must not run the risk of being recognized in -the evening. Oh! what a tedious day it was! I put forward the dinner -hour; never, I think, was a dinner so dreary to me! Caroline complained -of a headache; but I did not complain. If I could only have made love to -her! I tried; but her replies seemed commonplace beyond words to me. A -conversation between two people who have ceased to love each other is -woefully stupid. - -I suggested that we go to the theatre. She declined; her headache was -growing worse, and she felt very uncomfortable. - -"Perfidious creature!" I said to myself; "I understand! Why not say to -me frankly: 'I no longer love you'? I should be less angry with you if -you did that. But, no, falsehood and dissimulation must needs be added -to inconstancy; you must always deceive us!" - -"Would you like me to stay with you?" I asked, pretending to be anxious -about her health. - -"No, no, thanks! All I need is rest; I shall have forgotten all about it -to-morrow." - -She could not conceal the fright caused by my proposition, which would -have upset all her plans. It was in my power to prevent their execution -that evening by remaining with her; but what would the result be? I -should simply postpone the catastrophe, and I should not have the -pleasure of confounding her an hour or two hence! Ah! I had no desire to -postpone that moment! I wished that it had already arrived. When we know -that we are to undergo a painful trial, the moments that precede it are -more cruel than those that follow it. - -The clock struck eight; she went to bed, in order to try to sleep. That -was the signal for me to retire. I bade her good-night. She came to me -to kiss me; she pressed my hand, and her eyes were dry, her heart beat -no faster!--I left the house; it was high time, for I was on the point -of breaking out! - -I was not sorry to have two hours before me previous to meeting Raymond. -I had time to calm myself and to decide what course to pursue. I felt at -once that the fresh air did me good. I have had that experience hundreds -of times; an atmosphere more or less heavy has a great influence on our -way of looking at things, especially when we are so unfortunate as to -have excitable nerves. A little rain, a little wind, calms or arouses -our passions; those which are natural are submissive to nature, and, -thank heaven! I know no other passions and do not agree with those -persons who declare that all passions are natural. - -For my sake she left her aunt, her little Jules, and many others! Why -should she not leave me as well? She had ceased to love me: that was not -a crime. But she had deceived me: that, I believe, was what distressed -me most; for it humiliates one to be deceived, especially when one is -old enough one's self to deceive. - -However, such a liaison is bound to end, a little sooner or later. What -did it matter? I was no longer in love with her. That, I believe, was -why I was so incensed with her. I was vexed because I had allowed her to -anticipate me. Love forgives many things that self-esteem refuses to -forgive. - -If Nicette should deceive me! then, I felt that my grief would be a very -different matter. I remembered how disturbed, how agitated, I was when I -learned that she had taken a shop; and yet, I was only her friend. I -tried to think of Nicette; that was the best remedy for Caroline's -treatment of me. - -I walked the whole length of the boulevards. I had had time to reason -with myself, and I had fully decided upon my course of action. I -realized what an idiot a man must be to torment himself over the -treachery of a woman who has thrown others over for him. Indeed, how can -one rely on the word of a person who has no other guaranty to offer than -previous infidelities. - -I decided, therefore, to amuse myself at Mademoiselle Caroline's -expense. That is the most satisfactory vengeance one can wreak on a -woman who deceives one. Every vengeance which savors of hatred, -jealousy, or anger denotes a lingering remnant of love; it is not real -vengeance. - -At ten o'clock I was at the Caf Anglais. I ordered a glass of punch, -pending Raymond's arrival. I did not propose to muddle my wits, but I -desired to attain that degree of excitement which makes one less -sensible of the folly of other people. My neighbor appeared, in the -careful nglig of a lady killer. One would have thought, from his -radiant expression, that he was the hero of the evening's festivities. - -"We shall have great sport," he said, taking a seat by my side, and -resting his elbow on the next table, regardless of the fact that he put -it in the dish of rice and milk of an old habitu. - -"What the devil, monsieur! be careful what you're doing!" said the old -gentleman, putting down his newspaper. Raymond apologized profusely, and -removed his thoroughly drenched elbow from the bowl with such vivacity -that he rolled it onto the white trousers of a dandy who was reading the -_Journal des Modes_. - -The dandy made a great outcry, the old habitu scolded Raymond roundly, -and I saw that his apologies would soon bring matters to a climax. As I -did not propose that any fresh scrape should interfere with our going to -Monsieur de Grandmaison's, I made haste to intervene, striving to -pacify the two gentlemen and to restore peace. I succeeded at last, and, -dreading some new mishap, I dragged Raymond out of the caf. - -"The evening seems to open inauspiciously," I said, as I led him toward -Rue Caumartin. - -"Pshaw! far from it! this incident promises sport. It wasn't my fault -that that old politician stuck his rice right under my arm; he ought to -have eaten it, instead of reading his newspaper; and then it wouldn't -have happened.--But it's half-past ten; let's make haste; I'll bet -they're waiting for us." - -"For you, you mean." - -"Oh! I wrote Grandmaison a line to tell him I should bring one of my -friends; so he expects you." - -We arrived at Rue Caumartin and entered a pretentious mansion; it was -directly opposite Caroline's rooms. We ascended a superb staircase; we -passed through several antechambers, lighted by globes suspended from -the ceiling, where half a dozen lackeys were yawning. Everything denoted -opulence and ostentation. I had not all that to offer her. I had thought -that I was doing a great deal for her: I had straitened myself and run -into debt; and what had I to show for it?--Ah! I was not likely to -forget my experience as a protector! - -My heart beat fast as I drew near the little salon where the company -awaited us; but I soon recovered my self-possession. We entered the -room, where I saw four men, but the host was not among them. - -"Ah! good-evening, my friends!" said Raymond, running from one to -another of the guests to shake hands. "Allow me to present a friend of -mine, a good fellow, who has a fancy to enjoy himself with us -to-night.--But where's Grandmaison?" - -"In the boudoir; he's taming his pet before supper." - -"Ah! to be sure! to be sure! they are making their final arrangements, -perfecting their agreement. Have you seen her, messieurs?" - -"Not yet. They say she's charming!" - -"Fascinating; and almost a novice!" - -"The deuce! that's a marvel!" - -"So Grandmaison wishes us to be less indecent than usual." - -"Good! We'll proceed by degrees, so as not to frighten her. But still, -this little one must be trained, and, really, Grandmaison is not the man -to do it!" - -"Poor man! the utmost he can do will be to say a word or two to -her--after supper." - -"He's not a blunt talker, like Joconde." - -"No; but his wine is delicious." - -"And he has an excellent cook." - -"Upon my word, I have the greatest esteem for him!" - -"For the cook?" - -"No; for Grandmaison, you sorry joker!--Come, messieurs; no remarks with -a double meaning; that's forbidden to-day. Besides, I am for morals -before everything!" - -During this pleasant conversation, I amused myself by examining the four -gentlemen. One, who was short, stout, and red-headed, contented himself -with laughing at every sally of the others, but did not venture to add -any of his own. He who talked most was a little man of some fifty years, -who tried to outdo the younger men by assuming the airs of a rake and -uttering all the obscenities that came into his head. A thin, pallid -young man, whose hollow, lifeless eyes betrayed his abuse of life, was -stretched out in an easy-chair, and swayed to and fro as he addressed -an occasional senseless rhapsody to the jocose Raymond, who was in his -element. A tall, bulky individual, with large oxlike eyes and a nose -that would have put a colocynth to shame, completed the circle, which, -in my opinion, lacked only Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche. - -At last a door at the end of the room opened and Monsieur de Grandmaison -appeared, dragging his leg after him. But he was alone. - -"Where is she? where is she?" cried all the guests, with one voice. - -"One moment! one moment, pray! you'll see her in a moment. She is giving -a little attention to her toilet. When I told her that she was to sup -with some friends of mine, she didn't want to appear in nglig; and -then, too, I am not sorry to let her see all the presents I have for -her. I left her with a lady's-maid. A little patience and some -punch--that will help us to wait for our supper." - -Raymond presented me to Monsieur de Grandmaison, who exhausted himself -in commonplace felicitations upon my kindness in honoring his little -party. I answered in fear and trembling, lest he should recognize me; -but my apprehension soon vanished; I saw that Monsieur de Grandmaison -needed his opera glass to distinguish objects. - -An enormous bowl of punch was brought, and the gentlemen did it so much -honor that I was very doubtful what their condition would be at supper. -The tall man with the stupid face, whom the others called _milord_, did -nothing but fill his glass and empty it; while the little red-headed -fellow, whom I heard them call Zamorin, stuffed himself with macaroons, -cake, and biscuits, to assist him to wait for the supper. - -The old rake and the languid young man questioned Grandmaison concerning -his new mistress's features; and the host went into her charms in -detail, promising to inform them more fully on the morrow. - -"What shall we call her?" inquired Raymond. - -"Her name is Madame Saint-Lon. A pretty name, isn't it, messieurs?" - -"Yes, very pretty. I think a great deal of the name myself." - -"Has she any children?" - -"Idiot! didn't I tell you that she was almost a novice?" - -"True; but _almost_ doesn't mean that----" - -"Nonsense! hold your tongue, Raymond; you insult innocence!" said -Monsieur Rocambolle, the old rake. "I am sure that Grandmaison found -this woman at Les Vertus." - -Enchanted by his jest, Monsieur Rocambolle turned, with a laugh, to the -young man; who laughed with him, showing two or three discolored teeth, -his only remaining ones. - -Amid the general clatter, as I did not wish to seem bored in the -agreeable company of these gentry, I said at random whatever came into -my head; and sometimes, without any effort to that end, I had the -pleasure of making the merry fellows laugh. - -"Didn't I tell you that he was a wag, a delightful fellow?" cried -Raymond. - -I was a delightful fellow! I swear that I had taken no pains to be -delightful, but I fancy that my companions were not exacting. - -Supper was announced, and Grandmaison looked at his watch. - -"Three-quarters of an hour," he said; "she must be ready; I will fetch -her. Go into the supper room, and I will bring her to you there." - -He left the room, and Raymond, who was familiar with the locality, led -us into a round, elegantly decorated room, in the centre of which was a -table laden with everything calculated to flatter the sight, the smell, -and the taste. - -A handsome clock on a low white marble mantel marked within a few -minutes of midnight. - -"The devil!" exclaimed Monsieur Rocambolle; "almost twelve o'clock! We -shall have mighty little time to enjoy ourselves." - -"Or to eat," said Zamorin. - -"Wait, wait, messieurs," said Raymond, who always insisted upon finding -a way to provide for everything; "I'll set it back an hour." - -"Well said! well said!" cried all the others. "That devil of a Raymond -is never at a loss! he's as inventive as a girl." - -Overjoyed to display the resources of his imagination, Raymond ran to -the clock, raised with startling rapidity the globe that covered it, -moved back the hands, and set the regulator so far toward _slow_ that, -from the way in which he went about it, I concluded it would not be -midnight for two hours. Our attention was diverted by Monsieur de -Grandmaison's voice, which announced the arrival of her whom all the -guests awaited, but how much less impatiently than myself! - -All eyes were turned toward the door by which she was to enter; I alone -stood aside, in such a position that she would not see me at once. We -heard the rustling of her gown, but at that moment there was a loud -report in the room; Raymond had broken the mainspring of the clock; and -to cover up his stupidity, he hurried away from the fireplace and ran to -meet the beauty who was to be presented to us. - -She appeared at last, escorted by Monsieur de Grandmaison and by -Raymond, who had taken possession of her other hand and was already -pouring forth all the pretty things he was capable of saying. I saw her, -and my heart beat more violently, my chest swelled. That was the last -time that her presence ever produced any effect on me. - -She was magnificently dressed: an emerald necklace gleamed on her -breast, a very handsome comb and long earrings added to the splendor of -her costume. She entered the room with downcast eyes, assuming a modest -air almost exactly like that which deceived me the first time I saw her. -That woman was able to do whatever she chose with her face. - -"Now," thought I, "let us see how she will endure a sight of me." - -She raised her eyes to the company at last; instantly a concert of -praise and compliments burst forth. She was in truth very fair to look -upon, and the gentlemen vied with one another in their efforts to find -words enthusiastic enough to depict their ecstasy and enchantment. How -happy she was at that moment! there was a flush on her brow, but it was -a flush of pleasure, of pride, not of modesty. - -"But where's my friend?" cried Raymond, looking about for me. He spied -me in the corner from which I was observing the scene, ran to me, seized -my hand, and dragged me toward Caroline. - -"Come on," he said; "come, I say, and see the Three Graces! She's Hebe, -she's Venus, she's Psyche, she's----" - -Raymond was interrupted by a cry from Caroline. She glanced at me as I -began to pay my respects to her, congratulating Monsieur de Grandmaison. -She turned pale, stammered, tried to recover herself; but the shock was -too sharp; she tottered, and fell upon her latest adorer. He, being then -occupied in responding to his friends' congratulations, received the -young woman's weight as he was about to take a pinch of snuff, to help -him to make some witty response. The poor man was not strong enough to -resist that unexpected blow; his left leg was always out of line, and -Caroline's weight causing the right one to bend, Monsieur de Grandmaison -fell heavily, trying to grasp what was nearest him, which happened to be -Monsieur Rocambolle's thigh. He clung to that, which he supposed to be -an integral part of the person, but his hand grasped nothing but the -cotton wool with which the old libertine stuffed his breeches in order -to improve his shape. The broadcloth split and tore, and Monsieur -Rocambolle's fictitious thigh remained in Monsieur de Grandmaison's -hand. - -While Monsieur Rocambolle angrily reclaimed his cotton posterior, while -the toothless youth threw himself upon a couch, laughing like a maniac, -while Zamorin looked to see if the supper were growing cold, and while -milord gazed from one to another of the company with eyes that seemed to -be starting from his head, Raymond, wishing to repair the damage -unassisted, rushed to the table in search of something to give the -fainting woman. As he put out his hand for a carafe, he overturned a -decanter of madeira, also a candelabrum, the candles in which fell upon -a fromage glac and went out. The decanter fell on Monsieur de -Grandmaison's face, who swore that his nose was broken; while Zamorin, -seeing the havoc Raymond was making on the supper table, called loudly -for help. The servants hastened to the spot, but their presence served -only to increase the confusion. Caroline was still unconscious, or -pretended to be in order to conceal her embarrassment; Monsieur de -Grandmaison continued to curse, Monsieur Rocambolle to shout, Zamorin to -lament, and the young man to laugh; the Englishman tried to put a bottle -or two of champagne in a safe place; and Raymond, in attempting to -assist the young woman, to raise Grandmaison, and to restore order, -overturned furniture, smashed bottles and plates, sent a chicken in one -man's face, a pie into another's lap, and ended by falling upon a small -table laden with liqueurs and brandied fruits. - -What further business had I at Monsieur de Grandmaison's? My revenge was -complete; the confusion was at its height; the scene of pleasure was -transformed into a scene of uproar and distress; singing had given place -to outcries, bonsmots to lamentations, drunkenness to wrath, merriment -to gloom; in a word, Caroline had seen and recognized me, and the effect -had surpassed my anticipations. I was satisfied; and leaving them all to -extricate themselves from their plight as best they could, I left -Monsieur de Grandmaison's house, thoroughly cured of the sentiment the -young flowermaker had inspired in me. - - - - -XXIII - -THE TWO VISITS.--THE LESSON IN HANDWRITING - - -On the following morning, at nine o'clock, my doorbell rang. I was still -in bed, reviewing the events of the evening, and laughing at that which -had been powerless hitherto to extort a smile from me, because a single -sentiment had filled my mind and prevented me from considering the scene -from its comic side. But now that my head was cool, my heart tranquil, -and my mind no longer tormented by the anticipation of what was to -happen, I thought of the different personages I had left at Monsieur de -Grandmaison's house; I fancied that I could see them gathered about the -lost supper, lost by the exertions of Monsieur Raymond; and I laughed -all by myself, as if I were still in their midst. - -If at that moment some inquisitive mortal, escorted by the _Diable -Boiteux_ or some other imp, had perched on the roof of my house and -amused himself by watching me, he would have thought, no doubt, that I -was temporarily insane. For my own part, I cannot see that it was any -more extraordinary to laugh at those reminiscences than it would have -been to weep at them; but we are never astonished to see a person shed -tears; whereas, if you laugh all by yourself, you are looked upon as a -madman or an idiot. Can it be that tears are more natural to man than -laughter? - -My concierge, who, as I believe I have already told you, did my -housework every morning, opened my door and ushered in my neighbor -Raymond, who, seeing that I was in a hilarious mood, thought that his -presence was responsible for it, and stood for a moment uncertain -whether to be angry or to join in my laughter. He prudently adopted the -latter course, and approached my bed chuckling. - -"Well, my dear fellow, it was a warm evening! Ha! ha! ha! You are still -thinking about it, aren't you?" - -"Yes, but I look to you for the details of the catastrophe." - -"And I to you for an explanation." - -"Do you want it in the Bois de Boulogne again?" - -"No, no! Ah! you fox! the lovely Caroline had some reason for fainting -when she saw you!" - -"A perfectly natural reason: I am the young man whom Monsieur de -Grandmaison has replaced." - -"Is it possible? Gad! it was a unique situation! And to think that it -was I who took you to the supper and introduced you to poor Grandmaison! -Deuce take it! you never said a word, you did not give me your -confidence, although I am devoted to you, heart and soul!" - -"I wanted to arrange a surprise." - -"You succeeded mighty well!" - -"Tell me how the evening ended?" - -"Very dismally. There wasn't any supper. The young woman insisted on -retiring. Poor Grandmaison's face was cut by a bottle of wine that fell -on him, heaven knows how, and we had to leave them at liberty to go to -bed. But I fancy the night passed very differently from what they -anticipated. We parted in an execrable humor. Rocambolle was angry about -his cotton padding, Zamorin regretted the supper, and the other the -youthful beauty whom he hoped to seduce. I am the only one of the party -who takes everything philosophically, as you know. But I confess that I -was impatient to see you, to learn the cause of the catastrophe which -disturbed the festivities. I came near waking you up last night, in -order to find out earlier." - -"You did very well to let me sleep." - -"Well, I must go, neighbor; but, I beg you, have a little more -confidence in me another time! You know how close-mouthed I am; you can -safely tell me anything! I always receive it under the seal of secrecy. -I should have made an excellent inquisitor, or an _illumin_! I love -secrets. In the matter of secrets, I am absolutely impenetrable. For -instance--I am a Freemason: have I ever divulged the secrets of the -order?" - -"You have told me that there weren't any." - -"True, true; but I said that to deceive you the better. Adieu, -neighbor!--By the way, do you know the news? They say that the Baron de -Witcheritche wears horns. There's a young musician who offered to show -the baroness how to play the serpent; the husband consented, because it -would be one more string to their bow, and it might be useful on -occasion. Moreover, the baron thought that he would compose some little -duets for the violin and the serpent, that he and his wife could perform -in company. So the musician came every morning to give her lessons; but -one fine day, Witcheritche, who was supposed to be in the country, -returned home unexpectedly; he found the teacher's method of instruction -too progressive and the baroness too apt. It seems that Witcheritche -wasn't as fond of music as usual that day; for he shrieked and swore; -his wife wept, the musician skipped; in short, there was a scandalous -scene. Little Friquet, whom I happened to meet the other day, told me -about it; he had it from his aunt, who had it from Madame Bertin, who -had it from Crachini, who had it from Gripaille, who had it from a young -lady who lives in the house with Witcheritche. But I say that we -shouldn't be too ready to believe rumors; we should go back to the -fountain head. I am going to the baron's this morning; I shall see -whether he is on cool terms with his wife, and I'll find a way to make -him tell me everything, without seeming to do so, by just mentioning the -serpent. Adieu! I have to finish a little vaudeville for which I have an -order from Rue de Chartres." - -"Have you had a play accepted at some theatre?" - -"Why, I have had plays accepted everywhere." - -"It's strange that they are never produced." - -"Oh! I'll tell you why that is: when they are not produced at once, I -withdraw them! I have a will of my own, you know. Withdrawn at once, if -not produced as soon as I request it. It's like my pictures, my little -water-colors, which I don't send to the Salon, for fear they'll be hung -in a bad light. A man should have some pride; veritable talent is -centred within itself, and there always comes a time when its envelope -is pierced.--Adieu, neighbor! I'll give you a chance to dress." - -"That man ought to be happy," I said to myself, thinking of Raymond; "he -has no doubt of anything; he believes himself to be intellectual, -talented, and handsome. If a woman doesn't listen to him, it's because -she's afraid of loving him too well; if his poems are not printed, it's -because the publishers are ignorant; if his plays are not accepted, a -cabal of authors is responsible: his self-esteem does not allow him to -look at things from any but a flattering point of view. I am convinced -that he believes himself to be courageous, although he fought a duel -with bulletless pistols; and that he would consider himself a soldier if -he were in the band of the national lottery; just as he thinks he has a -fine leg because he has fat calves, and beautiful hair because he's as -woolly-headed as a negro. However, he is happy, and that's the main -point. Happy people are not so rare as they are said to be; for there -are many in the world who resemble neighbor Raymond." - -If it had not been so late, I would have gone to see Nicette; to read in -her eyes that sentiment so sweet, so affectionate, and, perhaps, so -true, that I had never found in Mademoiselle Caroline's lovely eyes; I -say _perhaps_, for I dared not trust anything or anybody. - -On going out I unconsciously took the direction of Rue Caumartin, nor -did I stop until I reached the corner of that street and the boulevard. -It was all a matter of habit; habit is responsible for many things that -we do. In fact, it is a sort of second nature, it binds us in default of -love. How many people there are who have ceased to love each other, and -who remain together from habit! I do not refer to those who are married; -they cannot do otherwise. - -In order to put an end the sooner to that habit, which could not be very -deeply rooted, as my intimacy with Caroline had lasted only two months, -I determined to call upon Madame de Marsan, with whom I recalled that I -had been more or less in love. At all events, I owed her a visit for the -invitation which she had sent me, and of which I had been unable to -avail myself, thanks to my travelling companion. - -She lived on Faubourg Saint-Honor, I remembered, near the first street -on the right; in any event, I could inquire; rich people are well known -and are always easy to find; it is only the poor who are ashamed of -their poverty whom no one knows; but then, it is so seldom that anyone -seeks them. I bent my steps toward Faubourg Saint-Honor and inquired -for Monsieur de Marsan. Three or four persons eagerly showed me his -house, pointed it out with their fingers. Evidently Monsieur de Marsan -was a very wealthy man! everybody knew him or wished to appear to know -him. Really, wealth is a fine thing! - -His house was, in fact, of imposing aspect; less elegant, less -ostentatious perhaps, than Monsieur de Grandmaison's; but I suspected -that it was more productive, and to a man of calculating mind that -advantage is certain to outweigh others. It was only twelve o'clock; -might I see madame? It was very early for the first call on a pretty -woman, especially one who has passed her thirtieth year. The further a -lady recedes from her springtime, the more time she spends at her -toilet, so that she cannot be visible very early. At fifteen, a girl -appears just as she happens to be; at twenty, she receives callers in a -simple nglig; at twenty-five, she poses before her mirror for some -time before she appears; at thirty, she takes much pains with her -toilet; at thirty-six--but that would carry us too far; let us pause at -thirty-six. - -The concierge told me to go up to the first floor, the left-hand door; -that led to madame's apartment. Monsieur's offices were on the ground -floor. I walked through several rooms, and found at last a young -lady's-maid--who was not pretty, and with whom no man was likely to -tarry when he was going to see her mistress. I asked for madame, gave my -name, and the maid went to announce me. I waited only five minutes; that -is not too long to wait to see a pretty woman, when so many wealthy -fools, vulgar parvenus, and public officials have the assurance to keep -visitors waiting an hour before they condescend to show their inane -faces. - -"You may enter, monsieur," said the lady's-maid, and she ushered me into -her mistress's presence. This prompt reception seemed to me of favorable -augury. - -I found Madame de Marsan sitting on a causeuse in a pretty little room -decorated in the daintiest style, where the light, being filtered -through double curtains and blinds, was very soft. I spied a piano, a -harp, and music. I have a great liking for women who are fond of music, -and a greater for those who play or sing; it is a sure resource in -idleness; and a woman who does nothing thinks too much. - -Madame de Marsan received me with an amiable smile, in which I fancied -that I could detect a shade of vexation. I attributed it to the absence -of zeal on my part in calling upon her; and that course of action, -which, however, was not premeditated, served me better than the most -assiduous love-making would have done. She was piqued; she believed that -she had surely subjugated me, and she had not seen me since. In truth, -that must have seemed very strange to her after the way I had ogled her -at the theatre and my conduct at Vauvert's; it surprised myself, for I -now thought her a hundred times prettier than Caroline. - -She did not reproach me, however; but I made haste to apologize for -having failed to avail myself of her invitation, and told her what had -happened to Raymond and myself. The story of our adventures at -Montmorency made Madame de Marsan laugh heartily; and merriment, by -banishing the etiquette and formality of a first interview, permitted -our minds to understand each other and our hearts to divine each other. - -In order to prolong my visit, I urged Madame de Marsan to sing to me. -She consented, and acquitted herself with a grace and good taste that -fascinated me. She accompanied herself perfectly on the piano; in short, -she was a thorough musician. How she must have suffered at Vauvert's -party!--But I realized that I must not unduly prolong the first -interview. It is judicious to make people desire one's presence, and not -to be too lavish of one's self at first, especially with women who are -accustomed to homage and love-making; in fact, to being assiduously -courted. Hitherto I had never had the art of concealing what I felt; -perhaps I was boasting too soon, but I had determined to be on my guard -in the future! My last adventure had revived all my grievances against a -sex which I could not shun, but to which I would gladly have repaid a -part of the torments it had caused me. - -I took leave, therefore, of Madame de Marsan. - -"Will you be as long again without letting me hear from you?" she asked, -as I rose to go. - -"No, madame; I shall take frequent advantage of the permission you -accord me to come to see you and listen to your singing. I trust that -you will not consider that I abuse it." - -"Be assured, monsieur, that I shall never complain of that. You love -music, and we will sing together sometimes. I go out very little; and it -will be very good of you to make one of our little circle." - -She was a charming woman. I am inclined to think that I say that every -time my heart takes fire. But, no matter; I may as well repeat it, as -the same sentiments were constantly renewed in my heart. What she had -said to me could not have been more amiable. She could not see me too -often--that was almost a declaration! I left her, with the most -flattering hopes stirring in my breast, believing that I was adored -already. To be sure, according to what Raymond had told me, it would not -be her first weakness; he had spoken, I think, of three or four -_inclinations_. But I refused to judge Madame de Marsan according to the -remarks of my neighbor, who was a liar and a slanderer. - -"I will go to her house this evening," I thought. But, no; that would be -altogether too soon! I had vowed never again to go so fast in an -intrigue, but to try to learn first of all the character of the woman -who attracted me, to avoid letting my sentiments appear until I was sure -of hers; and lo! I had taken fire already! I wanted to obtain everything -at once! Ah! I was incorrigible; I should never know how to spin out a -genuine romance. - -I determined not to go to Madame de Marsan's again for two days. -Meanwhile, I must have distraction; not that I was still thinking of -Mademoiselle Caroline! so far as she was concerned, I was thoroughly -cured; indeed, I had concluded that the wound was not very deep. -However, if I were left to my own devices, my natural impatience would -drive me to Madame de Marsan. But had I not always Nicette to oppose to -ennui, sorrow, and, above all, new love affairs?--I would see her; but -not yet, for it was only two o'clock. I should be seen talking with her, -and that was what I did not want. I must wait until night; so I went -home, thinking that I would try to straighten out my affairs a little -before dinner. - -I found there a letter from my sister. Poor Amlie! She complained that -I had entirely forgotten her. In truth, it was now September, and I had -not yet been to see her. If I could have gone for two or three days; but -that was impossible! when I was once there, she would never let me -go.--She wrote of a superb match she had found for me: sixteen years -old, beauty, virtue, and fortune. I agreed that the combination was -dazzling, but it did not tempt me as yet; perhaps in two or three -years--we would see. I made up my mind, however, to go to Amlie and her -husband for a fortnight during the autumn; indeed, it was essential that -I should do something to set my affairs in order, for my liaison with -the flowermaker had disarranged them sadly. The deuce! at the rate -things had been going, my income would soon have disappeared. I was much -indebted to her for leaving me soon enough to prevent my ruining myself. -With six months of strict economy, I should be able to pay my debts; for -six months, therefore, I would abstain from those passions that cost so -dear; Mademoiselle Caroline had proved that the women for whom we do the -most are not the ones who love us best. - -At nightfall, I went to see Nicette. Her shop was closed; but I saw a -light through the glass over the door. I knocked softly, fearing to -attract the attention of the neighbors. I had every appearance of a -lover who is afraid of being seen. - -"Who is there?" she asked. - -"It's I, Nicette; it's----" - -But I did not need to give my name; the door was already open and she -was before me. I entered the shop, closing the door behind me; then -paused to examine the girl, who was all alone amid the flowers and -shrubs which filled the whole shop, save a small space where there were -a table and a chair. The table was covered with paper, pens, and books; -and a single candle lighted that little room, where the different -flowers diffused a most agreeable odor. - -She bade me sit beside her. - -"How kind you are to come to see me, Monsieur Dorsan, and to think of me -sometimes!" - -"Don't you think of me, Nicette?" - -"Oh! all the time! but that's no reason why--why--I mean, it's very -different!" - -"What were you doing when I came?" - -"I was writing, monsieur--learning my lesson." - -She blushed as she said it. I glanced at the table and saw several -sheets of paper covered with large letters--a name written again and -again--and that name, mine! Poor Nicette! - -I looked at her; she blushed even more, and stammered, lowering her -eyes: - -"I beg your pardon, monsieur, for taking your name for a copy; but I -thought that my benefactor's name ought to be the first thing that I -wrote." - -I took her hands and pressed them. - -"Really, Nicette, I do not deserve so much friendship--if you knew me -better!" - -"Oh! I know you well enough by all that you have done for me." - -"Are you happy now?" - -"Yes, monsieur; I can't be more so." - -The tone in which she said that, and the melancholy expression of her -face, gave me much food for thought. - -"You seem to me much changed, Nicette." - -"How, monsieur?" - -"You are pale, and a little thinner than you were." - -"But I am not sick." - -"Perhaps this smell of flowers----" - -"Oh! I've been used to that a long time." - -"I miss in your manner that light-heartedness and vivacity that I -noticed at the time of our first meeting." - -"Oh! a person can't be always the same." - -"Still, if you have nothing to distress you----" - -"No, monsieur, no, I haven't anything." - -"Your eyes tell me the contrary. Dear Nicette, you have been crying." - -"No, monsieur; and even if I had--why, sometimes one cries without -knowing why, and without being unhappy." - -We said nothing more. I did not choose to question her further, for I -thought that I could guess what caused her distress. She did not look at -me again; doubtless she was afraid that I would read her eyes. She was -pensive and silent. Nor could I find anything to say. Her sadness had -infected my heart. But the silence had a charm which we both enjoyed. -However, I thought that I ought to try to divert her thoughts, and at -the same time turn my own mind from reflections that were too hazardous. -I went to the table and looked at the paper and the writing. - -"You write well already, Nicette." - -"Not any too well yet, monsieur; but I hope, with time----" - -"Do you still take lessons?" - -"No, I haven't any teacher now; he said things to me that I didn't like; -he didn't want to give me the word I wanted for a copy; he always made -me write: _Commencement, commonly, exactly_; and I didn't see why I -couldn't learn just as well by writing _Dorsan_ as _commonly_, although -it isn't so long. That made him angry, so I sent him away; I can get -along without him. I know how to write the small letters too." - -"Let me see." - -"Oh! my hand would tremble before you, monsieur." - -"Why so? I will give you a lesson." - -"Will you, really?" - -"Why, yes; to be sure." - -She seated herself at the table; I placed a chair close beside hers, put -my right arm about her, and guided her hand with mine; my face touched -her hair; her whole body was against mine; I inhaled her sweet breath, -and I could count the beating of her heart. Ah! what pleasure that -lesson afforded me! Unconsciously, without premeditation, I made her -write _I love you_ again and again. My hand trembled as violently as the -hand I was guiding. But a tear fell from her eyes. The pen dropped from -our hands. I have no idea how it happened; but Nicette's pretty face was -hidden against my breast, her two arms were about me, and mine pressed -her fondly to my heart. At that moment I felt that even if Madame de -Marsan, or any other woman, were present, I would not put Nicette's arms -away. - -We had been a long while in that position and did not think of changing -it. Nicette was happy, and I--I must confess it--enjoyed a pleasure that -I had never known before, a pleasure of which I had no conception, -undisturbed by any desire for which I need blush. But, engrossed as I -was by the present, I could not answer for the future; another caress -might kindle a conflagration. - -There came a loud knock at the door of the shop. Nicette started from my -arms, and I looked at her with some disquietude. - -"Who can have come to see you so late? You told me that you had no -acquaintances." - -"I don't know who it is; I don't expect anybody!" - -Her eyes reassured me; they could not lie! But the knocking was -repeated, and we distinguished these words: - -"Open the door, open quick, Mamzelle Nicette! your mother's very sick -and wants to see you." - -Nicette ran to the door and recognized the daughter of one of Madame -Jrme's neighbors. The girl told her that her mother had had an -apoplectic attack as the result of a violent quarrel with her daughter -Fanchon; and feeling very ill, she longed to see the child she had so -unjustly turned out of doors. Nicette flew about the shop; in an instant -she had taken off her apron and put on her cap. - -"Adieu, adieu, Monsieur Dorsan!" she said, in a trembling voice, and -with eyes filled with tears; "my mother is sick and I must forget -everything." - -We left the shop; she took the little girl's arm and dragged her away; -the child could hardly keep pace with her. I soon lost sight of them. - -Sweet girl! she possessed all the virtues, and I loved her better than I -thought, more dearly than I had ever loved. The most convincing proof -that I really loved her was that I had thus far respected her innocence; -but I felt that I must avoid going to see her at night; to be alone with -her would be too dangerous. If it had not been for that knocking--I do -not know what might have happened. - -I decided to return to Madame de Marsan, so as to turn my thoughts from -Nicette; I must give my brain occupation, in order to allow my heart to -become calmer. By that means I should at least provide myself with a -pardonable motive for my new follies. - - - - -XXIV - -THE BOURGEOIS COMEDY.--THE REHEARSAL - - -For several days my conduct was really most exemplary; I paid court to -Madame de Marsan, concerning whom my neighbor had told me too much. I -did not go again to see Nicette at night; and when I passed her shop -during the day, I bade her good-morning without stopping. Her black -dress told me of the loss she had sustained, but I did not ask her for -any details of Madame Jrme's death. - -Madame de Marsan was a very agreeable, lively, coquettish person; I -found several young men assiduously attentive to her, but had no idea -whether they were more fortunate than I. I was not sufficiently enamored -of her to be jealous; and yet, it annoyed me to see that swarm of -admirers who so often forced themselves between her and myself. Twenty -times I was tempted to cease to augment their number, but a secret hope -whispered to me that I was the preferred one and that I should distance -all my rivals. - -Madame de Marsan's receptions were delightful: the company was select, -the women were pretty, the men well bred; courtesy without affectation -or reserve was the ordinary rule; we were lively and cheerful without -ceasing to be decent, gallant without mawkishness; and if anyone did say -something a little spiteful, it was said in the good-natured tone in -which one may say anything with impunity. The music was excellent, -without being pretentious; sometimes they played for high stakes, but -you could never detect the faintest emotion on the faces of the players; -in good society, people know how to lose their money with a charming -grace. - -The month of October was drawing near, and before the winter should come -and open the season for balls Madame de Marsan proposed to give a party -at her country house, at which there were to be some theatricals. I had -been hearing of this function for a long while, and extensive -preparations were being made therefor. The matter of the plays to be -given was thoroughly discussed, and at last they fixed upon _Le Barbier -de Sville_ and _Fanchon la Vielleuse_. Madame de Marsan insisted that I -should take part. I had never acted in anything but charades, but I -could not refuse to do whatever she wished. I was cast for Lindor, and -she for Rosine; I could not complain of that arrangement. The other -parts were distributed, and Raymond was not forgotten; he was an -invaluable man for bourgeois comedies. As for Monsieur de Marsan, he -never took part in theatricals. In large parties, husbands are of no use -except to provide the money. - -On the appointed day, Madame de Marsan went to her country house, where -all the actors were to report a week before the performance, in order to -have plenty of time to rehearse and arrange the stage business. Raymond, -who had left me in peace for some time, came to me now every morning to -urge me to hear him repeat the rle of Bartholo; and as he was to appear -in _Fanchon_ also, in the part of the Abb de Lattaignant, I must needs -teach him the airs he had to sing; for, although he held himself out as -a great musician, it took him a fortnight to learn a vaudeville -couplet, even though he always had some score or other in his pocket. - -"They'd have done much better to give some short new play instead of -this interminable _Fanchon_," my neighbor said to me every morning. "I'd -have written one myself! indeed, I have some all written, which would be -just the thing for amateurs!" - -"You ought to suggest them." - -"Pshaw! there's that Madame Saint-Marc, Madame de Marsan's friend, who's -determined to play Fanchon, because, I suppose, she thinks she's very -pretty _en marmotte_. And that tall thin fellow who wants to play -Sainte-Luce--we shall see how it goes. I myself could have played the -officer much better than the abb; the part's better suited to my figure -and style; however, I'm willing to take the other part to oblige; I -sacrifice myself. I hope, however, that if we have time, before the -fte, they'll play my little opera, _Les Amants Protgs par Vnus_; -there are only three short acts, but very spectacular. Listen, this is -the first----" - -"I'm studying my part." - -"Never mind, I want you to judge of the effect. The stage represents a -magnificent country house, where preparations for the wedding of the -lovers are in progress. The princess begins and says: - - "'Prince, 'tis here that we're to be united. - How happy I am! how----'" - -I listened no longer; and although the fte was not to come off for ten -days, I rid myself of Raymond by leaving Paris for Madame de Marsan's -country house, where I was not sorry to arrive in advance of the rest of -the guests. I hoped there to find a more favorable opportunity; and -opportunity is such a precious thing! Many people have owed their -happiness to it; all that is necessary is to know enough to grasp it. - -This time I had obtained such directions as were necessary to prevent my -going astray, and in due time I arrived at Madame de Marsan's estate. It -was almost a little chteau; the situation was delightful, the -surroundings beautiful; the gardens seemed quite extensive and very well -kept, the apartments decorated with refined taste, and so well arranged -that a large number of guests could easily be accommodated. But I -postponed my examination of these details, being in haste to present my -respects to the mistress of the house. - -"Madame is alone," said the maid; "none of the guests have arrived yet." - -I had hoped that that would be the case. - -"And Monsieur de Marsan?" - -"Oh! monsieur won't come until the day of the party or the day before. -He never meddles in such things." - -I could not have chosen my time better. I hastened to surprise her. The -welcome I received satisfied me that she was flattered by my zeal. - -"It is very good of you to come first," she said; "we can rehearse a -scene from _Le Barbier_ together. Our parts are very long, you know, -and, for my part, I have a very poor memory." - -"I will do whatever you please, madame." - -"Come first of all to look at our theatre. I am sure that you expect to -find a cramped little place, where your head touches the flies, and the -houses are smaller than the actors. Come, monsieur; I am determined that -the sight of our playhouse shall arouse a spirit of emulation in you." - -She laughingly led me into the garden; the theatre was in the centre. It -was large, convenient, and excellently arranged. The auditorium was -tastefully decorated and would hold about three hundred people. - -"Well, monsieur! what do you say to our theatre?" - -"That it would put many provincial theatres to shame." - -"And we flatter ourselves, too, that we give better performances than -one sees in the provinces. We do not shrink from anything: comedy, -vaudeville, opra-comique! We play everything except tragedy." - -"Why that exception?" - -"You will agree that in the best amateur company at least half of the -performers are good for nothing and provoke laughter, which in our -theatre is never prohibited; but we noticed that the audience always -laughed more at tragedies than at other plays; and as we could not -mistake that for applause, we have ceased to play any but merry pieces; -now, when we cause laughter we can persuade ourselves that it is a sign -of approval. There is always some way of sparing one's self-esteem, you -see. At our last performance we had a most complete success! We gave -_Porceaugnac_, with all the scenic accessories; nothing was forgotten; I -fancy that we bought all the syringes in Montmorency. But it was -charming, and it made a great sensation. It was spoken of in Paris; we -even had an article in the paper. You will agree, monsieur, that our -honor is involved now in maintaining our reputation." - -I promised Madame de Marsan to do my best to make myself worthy to -appear upon her stage; and we left it, to stroll through the garden. It -was almost a park; it was possible to lose one's self there, and I hoped -to take advantage of that fact. There was a little clump of trees, a -grotto, a bridge, which lacked nothing but water, dense, bosky groves, -shaded paths, turf that was always green, several pretty little -elevations, a subterranean path, a cliff, a waterfall, and all the games -that can be played in a garden. It was a delicious spot, into which it -seemed to me that ennui could never find its way. Madame de Marsan gave -me a small bedroom overlooking the fields. I should have been delighted -with it, except that it was a long way from hers. I reproached her for -it, and she answered with a jest. Patience! perhaps my turn would come. - -Meanwhile, it was incumbent on me to learn my part. Madame de Marsan -wished to rehearse some scenes that night, and she left me to study. No -constraint, no etiquette in the country. - -"Here," she said, "everyone does what he pleases--rises in the morning, -goes out to walk, stays in the house, goes away, returns, as his fancy -bids him. So long as you are prompt at meals, and, above all, at -rehearsals, you are absolutely your own master." - -I promised to conform to the established rules, and buried myself among -the trees to study the rle of Almaviva. But the thought that I was -alone in that house with Madame de Marsan--for servants and workmen do -not count--that thought made my mind wander. What! I was under the same -roof with a pretty woman, who allowed me to make love to her without -apparent displeasure, who seemed indeed to manifest something more than -interest in me--and I could be satisfied with anything less than a -complete victory!--I saw that I had to do with an accomplished coquette, -who perhaps pretended to be sensible to my attentions in order to keep -me bound to her chariot for a longer time. - -I looked forward to dining tte--tte with Madame de Marsan, but a -tiresome neighbor came to call, and he dined with us. I had an idea that -his presence was as disagreeable to her as to me, but, of course, she -must seem to be delighted to see him. Luckily, at the table the neighbor -talked for three; we were able to think of whatever was in our minds, -and still the conversation did not languish. The old gentleman hardly -gave himself time to breathe: he described his property to us in detail, -from the main entrance to the garden wall; we knew just how many acres -of land he had, and what his kitchen garden brought him in; how many -trees he had planted, the number of his hens, how many eggs they laid in -a week, what they were worth in the market, and a thousand other details -no less interesting to us. But while he was talking, my eyes carried on -a very different sort of conversation with Madame de Marsan. The -neighbor, engrossed by his crops and his betterments, did not notice it. -I discovered that loquacious people are sometimes very convenient. At -last, about half-past seven, the neighbor concluded to go home, to see -how many eggs his hens had laid during the day. He took his leave, and I -was alone with Madame de Marsan. We went out for a walk in the garden; -the verdure, the shadows, the silence, everything was conducive to -tenderness. I tried to speak of love; the coquette replied only by -repeating some of Rosine's lines. I continued, paying no heed to her. -She rebuked me. - -"That isn't right, monsieur," she said; "you haven't studied your part; -you don't know a word of it." - -"But, madame, I am not talking about our play." - -"What's that, monsieur! didn't we agree to rehearse?" - -"We have plenty of time." - -"No; I have a bad memory." - -"Then you refuse to listen to me?" - -"On the contrary, but give me my cue." - -"You have known a long while that I love you, that I adore you." - -"I know that all that is in your part, but you ought to say it -differently." - -"I see, madame, that you take pleasure in tormenting me." - -"Anger--passion--that's right! I assure you that you will act -splendidly!" - -What a woman! it was impossible to make her reply to the question that -interested me. We returned to the salon; I was in an execrable humor. I -rehearsed with the book in my hand, but I said my lines so badly that -Madame de Marsan laughed at me incessantly. I left her and went to bed; -I was almost tempted to remain no longer in that house. However, I did -remain; but I cursed womankind, all of whom played fast and loose with -me. The only one who combined all the estimable qualities, the only one -who manifested genuine affection for me, was the very one of all who -could neither be my wife nor my mistress. - -The next day I decided to learn my rle; perhaps that complaisance on my -part would be considered worthy of recompense; at all events, as I was -to act, I did not choose to make a more awkward appearance than the -others; so I studied Count Almaviva. I went into the garden, my _Barbier -de Sville_ in my hand. I have always been able to learn easily when I -chose; in less than four hours I was able to act almost the whole play. -I said nothing at dinner; I wished to surprise Madame de Marsan, who -asked me laughingly if I knew it as well as I did the previous evening. -When it was dark, we went to the salon; she refused to rehearse in the -garden, on the pretext that it was too cool there. Was that really her -reason? She took her part; I did not need mine, as I knew it perfectly. -We rehearsed our scenes; I acted with such vigor and earnestness, such -truth to nature, that she was struck dumb. Now it was my turn to scold -her; I was obliged to correct her, to show her what to do; but she was -delighted with my talent, and did whatever I bade her--let me take her -hand, squeeze it, kiss it, throw myself at her feet. - -"What! is all this in the play?" she asked, deeply moved. - -"Yes, madame, it's all there." - -And, taking advantage of my position, of all the privileges that my rle -of stage lover gave me, I was in a fair way to make rapid progress, when -we heard a commotion out of doors. In a moment the door of the salon -opened and Raymond appeared. - -"The devil take the man!" I muttered; "upon my word, he was born to be -always in my way!" - -Seeing me at Madame de Marsan's feet, he whipped his part out of his -pocket, and began to shout at the top of his lungs: - -"'Ah! malediction! that savage, piratical villain, Figaro! How can one -leave his home one moment, and not be sure that on returning----' -Madame, I have the honor of presenting my respects; I am punctual, you -see.--Good-evening, my dear Dorsan! Why on earth did you start off -yesterday afternoon without me? I would gladly have come with you. Well! -I know my lines already, you see. I have a superb memory! With the -prompter's help, I am all right." - -Madame de Marsan thanked Raymond for his promptitude and complimented -him upon his ease. Her agitation had disappeared; we went on with our -rehearsal, and she was engrossed by her part. My hopes were crushed -again! Infernal Raymond! - -The next day all the members of the troupe arrived; it was impossible to -find a moment for a tte--tte; we were rehearsing from morning till -night, and when _Fanchon_, in which Madame de Marsan did not appear, was -being rehearsed, she had so many orders to give about costumes and the -details of the fte, that I could not obtain the briefest interview with -her. Alas! but for Raymond I should have been happy, I am sure; the -auspicious moment had arrived; and he who would subdue a cruel fair must -not allow such moments to escape him; they may recur with an emotional -woman, but they are very rare with a coquette. - -Raymond was in the seventh heaven: he was immersed in business to his -ears; first of all, he had his two parts to learn, which was no small -thing for him; then, Madame de Marsan had given him the general -supervision of the scenery and the orchestra; moreover, as the young -woman who was to play Fanchon was her intimate friend, and as the -performance happened to come on her birthday, she requested him to -compose a scene referring to that coincidence, to be added to the -vaudeville which was to close the performance. Raymond sweated blood and -water to produce that little impromptu. In the morning, as soon as I was -awake, he came to tell me what he had done; he always had the beginning -of his couplets, but he could not succeed in completing one; and he -transferred that task to me, begging me to make use of him whenever I -wished to celebrate anyone's birthday. After breakfast he hurried to -the theatre, turned everything topsy-turvy, examined the scenery, and -regretted that he had not the necessary time to arrange some new -mechanism, because he would have liked to put a transformation scene in -his little contribution; but, in default of demons--for Madame de Marsan -would not hear of them, for fear of fire--and of nymphs,--an article not -to be found in the neighborhood,--Raymond confined his efforts to having -a wreath descend upon Fanchon's head; and he urged the gardener, who had -charge of the machinery, to be sure to make a superb one, and to suspend -it by a cord from one of the roof timbers on the day of the performance. -Then my neighbor proposed to introduce two little Cupids, who, instead -of appearing from a cloud, were to come up from the prompter's -box--which was likely to produce more effect--and to present bouquets to -all the actors and actresses on the stage. - -The great day drew near; the rehearsals proceeded with great zeal and -activity; everyone considered that his honor was at stake, and -determined to outdo the others. How much occupation an amateur -theatrical performance affords! what anxiety and toil! what a world of -details! how much trouble people take! But, on the other hand, what joy -to win applause! and one is certain of that in advance, even though one -acts wretchedly. We all knew our parts, except Raymond, who stumbled -through Bartholo's lines and could not remember a single one of -Lattaignant's. The ladies scolded him, but his reply was always the -same: - -"With the prompter's help, you'll see how glibly I'll rattle it off." - -On the night before the performance we were to have a dress rehearsal on -the stage, with all the lights. Raymond had not been seen since -morning; at six o'clock, the hour appointed for the rehearsal, he had -not come. We waited in vain; they searched the whole house, the garden, -the wood; everybody was engaged in the search; the servants were sent -around the neighborhood, with orders to bring Monsieur Raymond back, -dead or alive. We could not begin without him; we were in despair, at -our wits' end; for there was no one to take his place. How could anyone -learn two long parts between night and morning? The ladies were on the -point of weeping with indignation, when, about eight o'clock, Raymond at -last appeared, drenched with perspiration, covered with dust, and -leading by the hand two chubby, rosy-cheeked little boys, five or six -years old, smeared with dirt and dressed in dirty, mud-stained blouses. - -"Where have you been?" was the general cry; the ladies were for -beginning operations by beating him. - -"That's right!" said Raymond; "scold me savagely, when I have nearly -killed myself finding two Cupids for you! I have been scouring the -neighborhood ever since morning; I am sure that I have travelled a good -ten leagues! But nothing but sulky faces, squint eyes, flat noses -everywhere! At last I found what I wanted at Saint-Denis; but see how -fresh and plump they are! they'll make two first-class Cupids." - -The aspect of the two little fellows, for whom Raymond had bought candy -to bribe them, and who were smeared with it to the ears, soon allayed -the wrath of the company. - -"What about their mother?" asked Madame de Marsan. - -"She's a dairywoman at Saint-Denis. She's overjoyed to have her children -play two little Cupids, and she's coming to see them to-morrow; I -promised her a place behind the rear curtain. Now, just have these -little rascals cleaned up a bit, and you'll see how pretty they are!" - -The young lady who was to play Fanchon did not understand why Cupids -were needed, not knowing that a little surprise was being prepared for -her. Madame de Marsan tried to repair Raymond's indiscretion. The -rehearsal went on and lasted until one in the morning, when, being -thoroughly exhausted, we all went to bed, longing ardently for the -morrow; and Raymond intrusted his two Cupids to the housekeeper, with -instructions to cleanse them and make them get up early, so that he -would have time to teach them what they had to do. - - - - -XXV - -ALMAVIVA AND ROSINE.--A SCENE ADDED TO _LE BARBIER DE SVILLE_ - - -The great day arrived. The ladies rose early; the thought of their -costumes had kept them awake. The men, who are sometimes as coquettish -as the ladies, were all absorbed by their costumes or their rles. I was -less engrossed by the great affair of the evening, because my passion -for Madame de Marsan, intensified by the obstacles it had encountered, -occupied my thoughts quite as much as the play. But the busiest of all -was Raymond. He was out of bed at daybreak. He sought out the two little -peasants, and tried to make them move gracefully, and to teach them a -little stage business, while he told them what they would have to do in -the evening. The children stared at him, jumped into the air when he -told them to dance, fell on the ground when he tried to make them stand -on one leg, and began to cry when he told them to smile. My neighbor -took them to the gardener, now transformed into a scene shifter, and -repeated the lesson to him. The gardener was a dull-witted lout, who -knew nothing at all, but who chose to pretend to understand instantly -whatever was said to him. - -"Do you know what you have to do to-night, my friend?" Raymond asked -him. - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"First, the wreath of flowers----" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Which you are to lower on Fanchon's head." - -"Fanchon's--yes, monsieur." - -"You are to fasten it to a cord hanging from the beam; do you know -whether there is one?" - -"Oh! yes, monsieur; there was one for that gentleman with the syringes -they acted the last time, that was so funny! Monsieur Pourceau--Pourceau--the -man who wouldn't take physic before people, you know." - -"Just so, my man, just so.--Well, when the wreath is all fixed, you must -make a dozen fresh, pretty bouquets, and give them to these children, -who will be dressed as Cupids." - -"Say! I know 'em; they're Madeleine's boys." - -"Pay attention to what I say." - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"When they have the bouquets, you'll take them to the prompter's box." - -"Yes, monsieur, to the box, I understand." - -"And they are to go out on the stage when I clap twice with my hands." - -"Yes, monsieur, with your hands." - -"Don't forget anything, my friend." - -"No, monsieur. Oh! you needn't be afraid; I'm used to play-acting here!" - -Raymond next betook himself, with the two children, to the costume room. -He found no knit flesh-colored tights, because such costumes are rarely -used by amateurs. He was obliged to be content with nankeen trousers, -over which they were to wear their little white tunics: these, with the -girdle, the band, the bow, and the quiver, should make the illusion -complete. After urging the wig-maker, who had come from Montmorency for -the occasion, to outdo himself in dressing the Cupids' locks, Raymond -forgot everything but his rles, and set about learning them for the -evening. A numerous and select party of guests had arrived from Paris, -and they strolled about the house and gardens. Madame de Marsan, despite -the necessary preparations for the play, did the honors of her house -with no less grace than good breeding. Monsieur de Marsan did not arrive -until a few moments before dinner on the day of the fte. He was -detained in Paris by business on the Bourse; he knew that his wife was -spending a lot of money, and he had to devote his attention to making an -equal amount in order to maintain the equilibrium. In the evening, many -of the people of the neighborhood, carefully selected from the most -eligible, who had received invitations for the performance, were on hand -promptly. Thus the auditorium was certain to be entirely filled, for the -last rows of chairs were thrown open to some of the villagers. It is -much more agreeable to act before a large audience; empty benches are -never flattering to the actor, even at an amateur performance. - -The hour to begin had arrived. Our little hall was full. Raymond kept -looking through the hole in the curtain, to see where the ladies were -sitting whom he proposed to ogle. - -"Time to begin!"--Such was the cry of all who were ready; but everybody -was not ready, and it seemed as if Raymond would never finish dressing. -After each garment that he put on, he ran to look through the hole, with -his jar of rouge in one hand and his rle in the other. - -"Hurry! hurry!" we shouted at him from all sides, and pushed him back -toward his dressing room; then someone ran to Madame de Marsan's room, -to ask if Rosine was ready. The four amateurs who formed the orchestra -had twice played through the overture to _Richard Coeur de Lion_, -which served as overture to _Le Barbier_. They were about to begin it a -third time, because they had no other music with them; the audience -began to lose patience and some faint murmurs were heard. But at last we -were ready, and Raymond, who was the machinist, raised the curtain. - -I knew my lines very well, and my feeling for Madame de Marsan, who -looked prettier than ever in the costume of Rosine, imparted to my -acting the warmth and genuineness which befit the rle of a lover like -Almaviva. The young man who played Figaro was spirited, good-looking, -and daring. We played with great _verve_, our scenes went off -excellently, and the audience was delighted. At the moment when Bartholo -was to appear at the window with Rosine, Raymond, trying to raise the -blind, jerked it so violently that it was detached and fell on the lamps -which did duty as footlights; luckily, the sight of Madame de Marsan, -who was delicious in her Spanish costume, covered Raymond's -awkwardness. The first act went without a hitch. In the second, Raymond, -whose memory was fatigued already, could not say a word without the -prompter, and he stood in front of his box all the time, with his eyes -fixed upon it and his ears strained to hear. Often the prompter had to -repeat the words three times, Raymond meanwhile abusing him when he did -not prompt, and telling him to be quiet when he did prompt him in some -speech that he thought he knew. Thus he made of Bartholo a veritable -Cassandra; but such an audience as ours could not fail to be indulgent; -moreover, all the other rles were well done; we entered into the spirit -of our parts and filled the stage with animation. We were wildly -applauded; and Raymond assumed his share of the applause, although he -confused us terribly when he was on the stage with us. - -The third act began with Raymond on the stage. He walked forward and -took his stand in front of the prompter's box. - -"'What temper! what temper! [_To the prompter_: Why don't you prompt -me?] She seemed appeased! Will someone tell me [Don't prompt me.]--will -someone tell me who in the devil put it into her head to--to [Prompt me, -will you?]--to refuse [What's that? I don't hear you.]--to refuse to -take lessons from Don Basile. [Don't prompt me!] She knows that he is -interfering about my marriage. Do everything in the world--do--do--[What? -what do I say next? What the devil! you don't know how to prompt at the -right time!]'" - -The audience concluded to laugh at our Bartholo; whereat Raymond rubbed -his hands with a satisfied air, and, whenever he returned to the wings, -exclaimed: - -"How pleased they are! how it amuses them! No audience at the Franais -ever laughed so much!" - -The play came to an end at last, in spite of Raymond, who did all that -he could to prevent it; but Rosine's grace, Figaro's hilarity, and, -lastly,--for one must do one's self justice,--the warmth, the passion, -the ardor which gave life to my performance of Almaviva made the -illusion complete; I obtained a brilliant triumph, and I read in Madame -de Marsan's eyes the pleasure that my success afforded her. - -_Le Barbier_ at an end, the performance of _Fanchon_ was hurried -forward. All of the cast of the first play, with the exception of Madame -de Marsan and myself, were to appear in the second. We two had plenty of -time to change our costumes. All the dressing rooms opened on the -garden; those of the ladies were separated from ours only by an avenue -of lindens. Having resumed my civilian costume, I went out into the -garden for a breath of air. The second play had begun long before, and -everybody was on the stage or among the spectators. The solitude and -tranquillity of the garden were in refreshing contrast to the clamor not -far away. I was not sorry to be able to saunter there for a moment; but -as I crossed the avenue of lindens, I saw a lady come from one of the -dressing rooms opposite. I stopped; it was Madame de Marsan; it was my -Rosine. She recognized me and came toward me. - -"Where is Monsieur le Comte Almaviva going, pray?" - -"I came out to enjoy this cool shade a moment; but I missed something: -Almaviva cannot be happy without Rosine." - -"Rosine is not at all sure that she ought to go with you." - -"What! after consenting to allow yourself to be abducted?" - -"In truth, I should play the cruel now with a bad grace; but remember -that you swore to be true to me! to love me always, to love none but -me!" - -"Oh! I swear it again! I have no other desire than to repeat it every -moment!" - -"But where are you taking me? we seem to be going a long way. Why do you -take the darkest paths? Why are we going in under these trees? It is too -dark here!" - -"Dear Rosine, what can you fear, with me?" - -"Dear Lindor, I am ill at ease." - -"Did you not intrust yourself unreservedly to me?" - -"Ah! I fear that I was not wise. What are you doing? Kissing me like -this! Oh! that isn't in the play." - -"Do we refuse a kiss to the lover who is to be our husband?" - -"Stop--Lindor--Dorsan---- Oh! this scene----" - -"Dear Rosine, what is it but the natural sequel? ought it not to crown -our love?" - -Madame de Marsan tried in vain to resist; it was too late; I had entered -too completely into the spirit of my rle, and she had identified -herself with hers. We added to _Le Barbier de Sville_ the scene which -the audience does not see, but which it may well divine after the union -of Almaviva and Rosine. For some time the thicket had witnessed that -charming scene, half lighted by the moon. The fervor with which we -played our parts caused us to forget the world and the fte. I was -determined that Almaviva should obtain as great a triumph in the thicket -as on the stage, and Rosine was so prompt in response that I could not -lag behind. We had not begun to think of the dnouement, when it was -hastened by an unforeseen incident; but, to explain it, we must return -to the theatre. - -_Fanchon_ was acted indifferently well; many of the actors, not knowing -their parts, had skipped several scenes; Raymond had done the same with -his lines; so that the play was soon done. Neither Madame de Marsan's -absence nor mine was noticed; the actors supposed that we were in the -audience, the spectators, that we were behind the scenes. - -The vaudeville being finished, Raymond arranged his little scene in -honor of the lady who had played Fanchon, and whose birthday it was. -Everyone sang his or her couplet, and Raymond called for Madame de -Marsan and myself to sing ours. As he did not find us, and as the -dnouement was at hand, he ran into the wings and seized the cord to -which was attached the surprise that was to descend upon Fanchon's head. -He pulled it slightly, and the weight that he felt above set his mind at -rest, convincing him that the gardener had not forgotten to attach the -wreath. - -The moment had come; the orchestra played - - "What grace, what majesty!" - -That was the signal for the wreath to descend. Raymond let the cord go; -a sudden murmur ran through the hall, then bursts of laughter arose on -all sides. - -"Stop! stop!" someone called from the stage. Raymond put his head out -from the wings to witness the tableau, and saw that, instead of a wreath -of flowers, he had lowered a syringe on Fanchon's head. - -The confusion was at its height; the hall rang with laughter, while on -the stage wrath at Raymond's blundering folly was still predominant. The -young lady who had played Fanchon was obliged to push the syringe away -from her head. Raymond dropped the cord and ran out on the stage, -crying: - -"It wasn't my fault; it's Pourceaugnac's syringe--and that idiot of a -gardener forgot to take it off! It should have been a wreath. But we'll -make up for this.--Forward, Cupids!" - -He gave the signal, the orchestra played Zphire's air from _Psyche_, -and everybody waited impatiently for what was coming. Again Raymond -clapped his hands. - -"Come on, Cupids!" he cried; "come out, I say!" - -But nothing came out of the prompter's box. The audience, tired of -waiting to no purpose, prepared to leave the hall, and the actors to -vacate the stage. In vain did Raymond try to detain them, crying: - -"They're coming! they'll appear in a minute! they must be putting on the -bands!" - -Nobody listened to him. In his rage he determined to find his Cupids, at -all events; he jumped down into the prompter's box, looked under the -stage and in every corner of the building, but he did not succeed in -finding them. - -The two little fellows were dressed and ready two hours before it was -time for them to appear. The gardener, bewildered by all the orders he -had received, had entirely forgotten the wreath; but he had made some -bouquets, which he gave to the children, then led them to the prompter's -box and said: - -"Stay here; you're to go on the stage when you're called." - -The children waited quietly for half an hour; but they were tired by -that time; they thought that they had been forgotten; and as they could -enjoy themselves much more in the garden than under the stage, they -left their bouquets there and went outside to play. In running about -they approached the house, and saw on the ground floor, in a -well-lighted room, a sideboard covered with innumerable delicacies, the -bare sight of which made them open their mouths and lick their chops. -They stopped, sighed, nudged each other, divined each other's thought, -and looked behind them in obedience to the natural instinct of the man -who is about to do wrong. There was no one in sight; all the servants -had deserted the house for the play. - -"Oh! see the nice things, brother!" said the smaller of the two; "we -never saw anything like 'em!" - -"Oh! Fanfan, mustn't that be sweet?" - -"Say, Jean; just think--if we could eat some of it!" - -"Look at them cakes!" - -"There's no one there; let's climb in! Come on!" - -They easily climbed in the ground-floor window; they ran to the -sideboard, stuffed their mouths full, made aprons of their tunics, and -filled them with fruit, meats, and cakes; lapped the cream that they -could not carry away; dug their fingers into jars of preserves, and took -refuge finally in the attic, to eat at their ease what they had filched. - -While the little peasants were regaling themselves, Raymond was scouring -the whole estate to find his Cupids. As he came out of the theatre, -after a vain search, he met Monsieur de Marsan, who was looking for his -wife, the company being surprised at her continued absence. - -"Have you found them?" inquired Raymond. - -"I don't know where she is; people are asking for her; ordinarily, I am -not called upon to interfere in anything." - -"Whom are you talking about?" - -"My wife, who is not here to do the honors of the fte." - -"Parbleu! Madame de Marsan can't be lost; she'll turn up; but my two -Cupids--I am more anxious about them; for I must give them back to their -mother, who is not Venus; and she'll break one of her little pitchers -over my head if her brats are not found. Let us search the gardens -together; the little rascals must be somewhere here." - -Monsieur de Marsan followed Raymond, hoping to find his wife rather than -the two little fugitives. They walked through part of the garden, and -Monsieur de Marsan proposed to return to his guests, feeling sure that -his wife must be with them; but Raymond detained him, telling him that -he, Marsan, was responsible for the Cupids, as they were lost on his -premises. They drew near the swing, which was close to the clump of -trees where I was playing my scene with Madame de Marsan. - -"They are over in this direction," said Raymond; "I hear the swing -moving; I was sure that my little blackguards were amusing themselves." - -They reached the swing, but saw nothing. - -"There's no one here, you see," said Monsieur de Marsan. - -"It's strange," said Raymond; "I still hear the same noise. Why--it's in -this direction--in the thicket! What the devil are they doing there?" - -Monsieur de Marsan went forward; Raymond followed him. The moon at that -moment was much too bright! we were petrified. - -"It's Almaviva and Rosine!" said Raymond, jumping back. Monsieur de -Marsan alone retained his presence of mind. - -"Madame," he said, calmly addressing his wife, "your guests are asking -for you; you are needed for the festivities; you must try to arrange -your business and your pleasures so that they will not interfere with -each other." - -With that, he coolly turned on his heel and returned to the house. -Madame de Marsan had fainted; Raymond stood like a statue. I rushed from -the thicket, pushing him roughly aside, in an instant was at the -courtyard, then on the Paris road, and reached the capital at two in the -morning. - - - - -XXVI - -WHERE WILL IT END? - - -After the adventure of the thicket, it was impossible for me to go again -to Madame de Marsan's house, or to see her in public. So that we were -obliged to cover our liaison with a veil of mystery. With many women -that fact would have simply added to the charm; but I was afraid that -with Madame de Marsan, who loved to be surrounded by adorers and by -admiring homage, the impossibility of gratifying her vanity by her -conquest of me would speedily abate her love. If we no longer met at her -house, it was solely out of respect for the proprieties; for, as Raymond -had witnessed the catastrophe, I had no doubt that it was known to -everybody. - -What surprised me most was that I had not seen him since that memorable -evening: a week had passed, and I had not even met him on the stairs; -doubtless he dreaded my wrath. He evidently kept out of sight when he -heard me coming; for as we lived on the same landing and both went in -and out several times during the day, we did not usually pass two days -without meeting. - -Madame de Marsan and I were in regular correspondence; we made -appointments, we went into the country together, and sat in closed boxes -at the theatre. I enjoyed her society more, seeing her only _en -tte--tte_. There was no longer between us that swarm of young dandies -who were constantly fluttering about her, and whose presence was far -from agreeable to me; when we were alone, she could not play the -coquette so successfully and amuse herself by tormenting me. So that, -for my part, I was not at all sorry that we met as we did, but I was -very much afraid that it was not the same with her. Already our -correspondence was beginning to drag, our assignations were becoming -less frequent; she constantly found something to prevent her meeting me: -a reception, a ball, some festivity which she could not possibly avoid -attending. I had no faith in her excuses, because I knew that her -husband left her entirely at liberty to do as she chose. If she refused -to keep an appointment with me, it was because she preferred to create a -sensation at a ball or a concert; in a word, to make conquests, to -surround herself with admirers and attentions, rather than to be alone -with me. The conclusion to be drawn from that state of affairs was very -simple: Madame de Marsan did not love me, had never loved me. She had -smiled upon me solely from caprice; had given me hopes from coquetry; -had yielded by chance; and would leave me because she was bored. - -One morning, opening my door suddenly, I saw Raymond going downstairs -and caught him by his coat tail. - -"Great heaven! I thought you were dead, Monsieur Raymond!" said I. - -"Good-morning, my dear neighbor! It's a fact--I haven't seen you since -the _Barbier de Sville_." - -"That is true; and I counted upon you to tell me how the festivities -came to an end." - -"Oh! you must have heard all about it from----" - -"From whom?" - -"You know whom I mean. To tell the truth, I was afraid you were angry -with me." - -"Why so?" - -"Because I took her husband to the thicket." - -"Aha! so it was you who brought him there, was it?" - -"That is to say, it was I and it wasn't. He was looking for his wife, -and I was looking for the Cupids, who were giving themselves indigestion -in the attic; the little rascals nearly burst, and their mother declared -it was my fault and wanted to tear my eyes out! I was in hard luck at -that party!--But to return to your adventure--if you had let me into the -secret of your liaison with Madame de Marsan, it wouldn't have happened; -on the contrary, I would have induced the husband to abandon the idea of -looking for his wife! But there, as I am always saying to you, you won't -ever tell me anything! your reticence leads to surprises! in fact, you -are responsible for my having to give up going to Monsieur de Marsan's." - -"Why so?" - -"Why so! it's easy enough to see: the wife, knowing what--what I saw, -receives me very coldly; and the husband's another oddity. I wished to -try to arrange matters; it was no easy task, but still, as it was -night, and moonlight--and then, with a shrewd wit one can make anything -look all right." - -"Well?" - -"Well, when you had gone, I tried first to help Madame de Marsan, who -had fainted, as I thought; but the moment I put my salts to her nose, -she got up without help, threw the salts into my face, and ran off and -locked herself in her room. When I saw that, I said to myself: 'I must -go to the husband and throw dust in his eyes.'--I went to the salon, and -motioned to Monsieur de Marsan to step out to speak to me; at first he -was unwilling to leave the cart table, but he finally made up his mind -to it. I led him into a corner and said: 'Monsieur, you mustn't believe -all you see, especially by moonlight, because the moon changes the -aspect of things, and you may be misled. The scene they were rehearsing -in the thicket was of my invention, and was to be played after the -_Barbier_: it was a love scene, and in love scenes the actors sit very -near together, on each other's knees sometimes, take hold of hands, -embrace--in fact, the more things they do, the more complete the -illusion.'--That was rather clever, eh?" - -"Very clever; and what reply did Monsieur de Marsan make?" - -"He hardly let me finish; then he said in a very sharp tone: 'Be good -enough not to weary me with any more of your nonsense, and never to open -your mouth again on that subject!'--And, with that, he turned on his -heel. Faith! I confess that I call that very ill-mannered! I try to give -a husband the matrimonial prism, and he receives me like a dog in a game -of tenpins! you must agree that it was not very pleasant. To cap the -climax, a moment later up comes the dairywoman with her two brats, who -were purple in the face; they had just been found in an attic; and the -impudent peasant began to abuse me, and promised me that, if they burst, -her husband would summon me before the magistrate! As if it was my -fault! Why, I told them to act the part of Cupid, not to stuff -themselves with food!--Faith! when it came to that, I took my hat, and -taking advantage of Figaro's cabriolet--he was driving back to Paris--I -turned my back on the fte, vowing that I would never again compose -anacreontic scenes for peasants." - -My neighbor left me when he had finished his story. Despite the -assurance that I had given him that I harbored no resentment against him -on account of that incident, he seemed to me to retain in my presence a -constrained, embarrassed air which was not usual with him. He had left -me, whereas ordinarily I had hard work to get rid of him. I sought in -vain a reason for this behavior, which was not natural in Raymond. -However, it mattered little to me what maggot he had in his brain; it -surprised me more than it interested me. - -There was something that surprised and troubled me much more: for a long -time I had received no bouquets from Nicette. At first, I thought that -her mother's death might have kept her busy for some days; but that had -taken place more than six weeks before, and still I found nothing at my -door! I had become so accustomed to those tokens of remembrance, that -every evening, when I went home, I hastily put my hand to the doorknob; -but I found nothing, and I said to myself sadly: - -"She too has forgotten me! I might reproach her, but I do not want her -to do from a sense of duty what I had thought was a pleasure to her." - -It was a long time since I had seen her; I woke too late in the morning; -in the evening, I was either with Madame de Marsan, or some friend would -drag me away to one of the parties which began to be more numerous with -the approach of winter. Besides, I knew how dangerous it was to go to -see her in the evening!--Meanwhile, my meetings with Madame de Marsan -were daily becoming less frequent and more depressing; she was simply -waiting for an excuse to break with me altogether; and I, from a spirit -of contradiction, refused to furnish her with one. - -For several days we had not met; but we had arranged to dine together on -a certain day; it was almost like granting me a favor. We dined at the -Cadran-Bleu; the sight of the Mridien, just opposite, reminded me of -the much livelier repast of which I had partaken with Mademoiselle -Agathe; and I said to myself that the grisette, who deceives one openly, -is a hundred times preferable to the _petite-matresse_ who clings to us -when she does not love us. The dinner was a gloomy affair, despite my -efforts to prolong it; at seven o'clock we had nothing more to say to -each other. I suggested the theatre, but there was no play that -attracted her; it was not the season for walking, and I did not know -what to suggest, or how to amuse her. At last she began to complain of -pain in the stomach and head, of the vapors, in short. She decided to go -home and to bed early, and I applauded the idea, which was a great -relief to us both. We left the restaurant; I was going to take her home -in a cab, as usual, but she preferred to go on foot, thinking that the -walk in the fresh air would do her good. It was dark, and we had no fear -of unpleasant meetings. We walked along like a husband and wife of -twenty years' standing, exchanging a word every five minutes. We -reached Rue Saint-Honor and should soon pass Nicette's little shop; but -it would surely be closed, and I was very glad of it. As we drew near I -saw that the shop was still open; the shrubs had not been taken inside. -It was too late to turn back. Indeed, why should I turn back? Was I not -at liberty to give my arm to whomever I chose? Yes; but still I hoped -that she would not see me. - -We reached the shop; Nicette was at her door; she saw me, and by some -inexplicable whim Madame de Marsan chose to stop to examine her flowers. - -"Here's a lovely orange tree," she said; "for a long time I have wanted -one in my boudoir; I like this one very much; don't you think it -pretty?" - -"Yes, madame, very pretty." - -I was embarrassed; I kept my eyes on the ground, avoiding Nicette's. - -"I am afraid it's too large, though," continued Madame de Marsan. "Have -you any others, my girl?--Well! why don't you answer?" - -Nicette did not hear her; she had her eyes fixed on me, and doubtless -her expression was very eloquent, for Madame de Marsan, greatly -surprised, scrutinized her closely; her pretty face, her confusion, my -emotion, my embarrassed manner, aroused in Madame de Marsan's mind -suspicions, which undoubtedly went beyond the truth. Women divine very -swiftly, and their imagination travels fast. Madame de Marsan no longer -loved me, but she had the curiosity which no woman ever loses on that -subject, and, in pure deviltry, she pretended to be very fond of me. - -She entered the shop, leaning nonchalantly on my arm; she bestowed an -amorous glance on me and addressed me in the familiar second person, -which she had not done twenty times at the very outset of our liaison. - -"What do you think of these trees, my dear fellow? tell me which you -like, my dear Dorsan; I want to choose the one you like best." - -Vexation and anger were suffocating me; I was hardly able to stammer a -few disjointed words. I glanced at Nicette; I saw her turn pale and -stagger; her eyes filled with tears; they seemed to say to me: - -"She loves you! do you love her?" - -Madame de Marsan saw it all; she smiled maliciously and watched Nicette -closely. - -"What's the matter with you, child?" she asked, in a contemptuous tone; -"you seem very much excited." - -"Nothing, madame, nothing's the matter," the poor girl replied, in a -trembling voice, looking at Madame de Marsan and at me in turn. - -"What's the price of this orange tree?" - -"It's--it's--whatever you choose to give, madame; I don't care." - -"What's that? you don't care? That's a strange answer!--What do you -think, my dear Dorsan? Come, answer; I don't know what's the matter with -you to-night, really!" - -"When you are ready, madame, we will go." - -"Ah! I see, monsieur; you have reasons for not wanting to stay in this -place with me; my presence embarrasses you--and seems to grieve -mademoiselle! Ha! ha! this is too good! to grieve this poor child!--that -would be cruel beyond words! Come, monsieur, when you choose. But, I beg -you, don't leave her in despair.--Adieu, my girl!" - -She left the shop at last, and I followed her after glancing at Nicette. -But she was crying and did not look at me. - -When we were in the street, Madame de Marsan laughed as if she would -die, and joked me about my amours and about the innocent flower girl. I -made no reply, although I might have made some very mortifying remarks; -we must be indulgent to the woman who has been weak for our sake. I left -her at her door. I was in great haste to see Nicette again; I was -determined now to tell her all my thoughts, all my sentiments; I -proposed to conceal from her no longer the genuine passion which she had -inspired, and which I had fought against to no purpose. She shared it; I -could not doubt that. We would be happy together; yes, I would abandon -myself thenceforth to the dictates of my heart, which told me that I -must possess Nicette. The friendship between us was simply a pretext to -conceal our love; we could not misunderstand each other! Why those -fruitless efforts to overcome the sentiment that drew us toward each -other? Why should cold prudence deprive us of happiness? Is love a -crime, pray? and can that which makes us so happy make us guilty? - -I ran, I flew--at last I stood before her shop; it was closed, and I -could see no light within. I knocked: there was no reply. Was she -asleep? No, no; I was sure that she would not be able to sleep. I -knocked again--no reply! Where could she be? I passed an hour in front -of her shop. I knocked again, but to no purpose. I was convinced that -she was inside, but that she was determined not to admit me, that she -was weeping and did not wish me to see her tears. Perhaps she feared -that I would reproach her for her conduct before Madame de Marsan. Dear -Nicette! Far be it from me to reprove your love. - -"I will see her to-morrow," I thought; "I will console her, and I shall -easily triumph over the resolutions of the night! Since it must be, I -will wait till to-morrow." - - - - -XXVII - -MY STAR PURSUES ME - - -I did not sleep; my mind was too disturbed, my heart too agitated for me -to obtain any rest. All night long I formed plans, prudent, extravagant, -and delicious. Nicette was always included in those charming visions of -the future, which my imagination conceived so readily; I transformed her -into a shepherdess, a great lady, a _demoiselle_; she and I were -together in a palace, in a village, in a desert; but, wherever we were, -we were happy. Ah! how sweet it is to dream waking dreams when one loves -and believes one's self to be loved in return! - -I rose at daybreak; I had twenty schemes in my head, and, as usual, I -could not decide upon any one. First of all, I must see Nicette; that -was the most important thing. My toilet was soon completed; I was sure -that I always looked well to her. - -I left my room; everybody was still asleep in the house, unless there -was somebody who was very much in love. Madame Dupont, who had ceased to -be amorous, kept me waiting a century before she pulled the cord of the -porte cochre; at last she heard me knocking and shouting at her window, -and I was free. - -In less than five minutes I was in front of the shop; it was still -closed. I was surprised; Nicette was usually such an early bird. - -Should I wait? should I knock? I stood hesitating in the street, when a -messenger passed. It was the same one I had questioned some time before; -he recognized me, touched his hat as he passed, and took his seat some -twenty yards away. I walked toward him, with no definite idea what I was -going to do. The messenger, who was pleased with my conduct on the -former occasion, hastened to offer me his services. - -"I have nothing for you to do, my friend," I said, in a decidedly dismal -tone, mechanically putting a five-franc piece in his hand. - -He stared at me in amazement, and waited for me to speak before he -ventured to put the coin in his pocket. I looked toward Nicette's shop -and pointed at it. - -"That flower girl is rather late about opening, it seems to me," I said. - -"Oh! it's early yet; but still, she's been a bit lazylike for some time. -Well, well! it isn't surprising!" - -"Why so?" - -"When a woman gets love into her head!" - -"How do you know? Who told you she was in love?" - -"Oh! a man don't have to be very sharp to see that kind of thing! you -see, I've been on this square twenty year, so I ought to know pretty -well what's going on in the quarter." - -"What do you know about this girl? What have you seen? Answer, and keep -nothing back. Here, take this." - -I felt in my pocket again and put more silver in the messenger's hand, -whereat his amazement redoubled and he looked into my face for symptoms -of insanity. - -"You told me that this girl was virtuous and honest, and that she did -not speak to anybody, because she preferred not to." - -"That's true, monsieur, that's true. She's honest enough still; but when -a girl's young, she may take a liking for someone, and----" - -"Explain yourself more clearly! What makes you think that?" - -"Pardi, monsieur! because I see the fellow come to see her." - -So Nicette had deceived me! Nicette did not love me! No, I could not -believe it. I determined to question the man further. I leaned against -the post that adjoined his stone bench; I needed support, for I trembled -at the thought of finding my misery confirmed. - -"You say that you see someone come to her shop?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Since when?" - -"Why, it was about three weeks ago that the man came prowling around -here; at first he came in the morning, to buy flowers; then he came at -night, just at dusk, and talked a little; then he stayed longer; and -it's got so now that he comes almost every night and talks an hour or -two with the pretty little flower girl. But I think everything's all -straight as yet; the shop door's always open, and unless they meet -somewhere else, which is possible enough, for women are sly, and it -ain't safe to trust to virtuous airs!----" - -"What does he look like?" - -"Well, he ain't exactly a young man, perhaps about forty years old; nor -he ain't very handsome, either; but as to his get-up, he's one of your -sort, a man who looks as if he was somebody! And you can see that the -little flower girl, who put on airs with us poor folks, might have been -flattered to make the conquest of a swell; that's probably what caught -her!" - -"And he comes every night?" - -"Yes, monsieur, pretty near; he don't hardly ever miss a night now." - -"That's enough." - -I strode away from the messenger; the poor fellow had unsuspectingly -torn my heart; at the very moment that I proposed to abandon myself -without reserve to my love for Nicette; to turn my back on society of -which I was weary, so that I might live with her and for her--at that -moment, I lost her thus! She loved another, and I believed myself to be -sure of her love! With that sweet delusion vanished the blissful future -of my waking dreams that morning. - -I was still in the street; I could not go away. At last the shop opened; -Nicette appeared; she was pale and downcast; but I had never seen her -when she was so pretty, I had never been so deeply in love with her. - -The little traitor--with that innocent air! Alas! had I the right to -complain? had she given me her troth? had I told her that I loved -her?--But was it necessary to tell her so? It seemed to me that we -understood each other so perfectly. We had both been deceived! - -Should I speak to her? Of what use was it now? what could I say to her -that would interest her? No; I would not see her or speak to her again; -I would forget her! - -I do not know how it happened; but, with the firm intention to avoid -her, I had walked toward her; and I found myself in front of her shop, -where I stopped, in spite of myself. - -She came to meet me with an air of constraint; her eyes were red, as if -she had wept much; what could be the cause of her distress? I did not -know what to say, and I stood mute in front of her; she too was -thoughtful.--And this was the interview in which the confidence and -unreserve of love were to reign supreme!--Poor mortals! our plans are -drawn on the sand. - -"I came last night," I said at last, in a tone which I strove to render -cold. - -"Last night--yes, I saw you, with--with that lady." - -"No, I mean a few minutes later--I came back and knocked." - -"I was not here." - -"I thought you never went out." - -"I went out last night." - -"You might have been at home, and have preferred not to let me in." - -"Why so, monsieur?" - -"Sometimes a person doesn't like to be disturbed when she has company." - -"Company!" - -"Yes, you understand me perfectly well; will you tell me again that you -have no visitors? For the last three weeks, hasn't a gentleman come to -see you--almost every evening?" - -She was embarrassed, she blushed. The messenger had not deceived me. - -"Well, mademoiselle, you don't answer. Is it the truth?" - -"Yes, monsieur, it's the truth." - -She admitted it! ah! I would have liked to have her deny it, I should -have been so happy to believe her!--Further doubt was impossible! there -was no more hope for me! I must go. I cast a last glance at her and -left the shop abruptly, for I did not choose to let her see the -suffering she caused me. She made a movement to detain me, then paused -in her doorway, contenting herself with looking after me. - -I resolved to think no more of her; she was no better than the rest!--In -truth, I was unlucky in love! I had never yet fallen in with a faithful -woman; they had all deceived me, betrayed me, played fast and loose with -me; but all their perfidies had caused me less pain than I suffered -because of Nicette's inconstancy! She saw that I loved her; all women -see that at a glance! She did everything to attract me! To think that -one so young should be so skilled in feigning love and sensibility and -gratitude! I could never again believe in anything or anybody. - -But, before forgetting her entirely, I proposed to see the man who had -replaced me in her heart, the man who had beguiled her, whom she loved! -What a lucky dog he was! At that moment I would have given all that I -possessed to be loved by Nicette. - -I had been told that he went to see her every evening; I would see him -that very day. There was a caf almost opposite the shop, where I could -wait unobserved, for I did not choose that the ungrateful girl should -witness all the torments of my feeble heart. - -I passed the day as best I could, and at five o'clock I betook myself to -Rue Saint-Honor. When I came in sight of her shop, I looked to see if -she was in the doorway. She was not there, and I slipped into the caf -unseen by her. I took my seat at a table that touched the window, and -ordered a half-bowl of punch, because it would naturally take me some -time to drink it. The waiter made me repeat my order; no doubt he took -me for an Englishman or a Fleming; but I cared little. I took up a -newspaper to keep myself in countenance, and kept my eyes fixed on the -flower shop. - -The time seems very long when one anticipates a pleasure, and still -longer when one is suffering and in dread. Would the darkness never -come! It was October, and should have been dark at six o'clock. Could it -be that it was not yet six? I looked at the clock; it marked only -half-past five; it was probably slow. I looked at my watch; twenty-five -minutes past five! It was cruel! I tried to drink the punch that was -before me, but it was impossible for me to swallow; I had not dined, but -I had been suffocating since the morning. - -At last the daylight faded. How was I to see what happened inside the -shop? how was I to distinguish that man's features? I hoped that she -would have a light. Sure enough, she came out with a light and began to -carry in her flowers. What sadness, what depression in her whole aspect! -She seated herself in the shop, beside the table, but she did not write! -She sighed and glanced often into the street. She was expecting -someone--and it was not I! - -It was almost seven o'clock, and no one had appeared. Suppose he should -not come? Should I be any happier then? Had she not agreed that morning -that I knew the truth? And had her blush, her embarrassment, told me -nothing? - -A man appeared and entered the shop; he sat down beside her. Great God! -did not my eyes deceive me? It was Raymond! Raymond with Nicette! -Raymond her lover! No, no; that was impossible! - -I rushed out of the caf to make sure of the truth. Someone ran after me -and stopped me. It was the waiter; I had forgotten to pay. I did not -understand very well what he said, but I put three francs in his hand -and he left me. The darkness allowed me to remain in the street unseen -by Nicette, while I could see her plainly. It was in very truth Raymond -whom I had seen, whom I saw. He was talking to her very earnestly, and -she listened with attention. I read in her eyes the interest she took in -what he was saying; she seemed more distressed than ever, she wept. He -took her hand and squeezed it tenderly! She did not withdraw it! That -lovely hand abandoned to Raymond! Ah! it was all over, I could no longer -doubt my misfortune. I felt that I must fly while I still had strength -to do so, and must never see her again! If only I could at the same time -banish her image from my thoughts! But the idea that she loved Raymond -crushed me, haunted me incessantly! So it was for Raymond's benefit that -I had preserved intact that flower which it would have been so sweet to -me to pluck! I respected her innocence, and this was my reward! - -If some respectable young man, of obscure station like herself, had won -her heart while seeking her hand, I might perhaps have consoled myself; -at all events, I should have been proud of having kept her pure and -worthy of his vows. But that such a fellow as Raymond should triumph -over Nicette! By what spell could he have fascinated her? He was neither -young nor handsome; he was a stupid, vain, chattering bore! If there was -anything lovable about him, I had never discovered it! And that was the -man she preferred to me! Oh! these women! - -I was no longer surprised at the embarrassment I had observed in -Raymond's manner when we last met. The traitor! so that was why he -avoided me. The fellow was my evil genius, in very truth! He knew that -I knew Nicette; he knew, perhaps, that I loved her. If I had listened to -nothing but my rage, I should have gone to him and insulted him. But how -can one obtain satisfaction from a dastard? and would his death make -Nicette what I formerly believed her to be? I would despise one and -forget the other; that was the only course for me to pursue. - -Once more I sought in repose oblivion of my suffering. What a different -night from the last! Last night, forming delightful plans based upon -love and constancy; to-night, cursing that sentiment and the woman who -had inspired it! If the weariness caused by such tempests of emotion -made me doze for a moment, my first thought, on reopening my eyes, was -of all my blasted hopes. - -When I was dressed, I could not resist the longing to talk with Raymond. -I promised myself to retain my self-control, to hold myself in check, -and to conceal the state of my heart. I hastened across the landing and -knocked and rang at his door. The concierge knew that he was at home; he -was not in the habit of rising early; still he did not open the door. I -rang again, and that time the bellrope remained in my hand. I heard -sounds at last; I recognized his heavy tread, and soon his nasal tones -greeted my ears. - -"Who is it making such a row at my door before seven o'clock? It's -outrageous to wake a man up like this!" - -"It's I, neighbor; it's I, Dorsan; I want to talk with you." - -For some seconds he did not reply, and when he did I knew by his voice -that he was not gratified by my call. - -"What! is it you, my dear neighbor?" - -"Yes, it's I." - -"What brings you here so early?" - -"You shall learn; but first let me in; I don't like to talk through a -door." - -"I beg your pardon--you see, I'm in my nightshirt." - -"Bah! what difference does it make to me, whether you're in your -nightshirt, or naked, or fully dressed? I have no desire to examine your -person. Open the door! then you can go back to bed; that won't interfere -with my talking to you." - -"You see, I passed most of the night writing birthday rhymes; and I am -still sleepy." - -"Oh! morbleu! Monsieur Raymond, open the door, or I'll break it down!" - -The tone in which I uttered the last words indicated a purpose to carry -out my threat. He did not wait for me to repeat it, but opened the door, -and, running back through his little reception room, jumped into bed, -where he wrapped himself up in the bedclothes, leaving nothing exposed -but his nose and his great eyes, which he turned from side to side with -an air of uneasiness, not venturing to look at me. I followed; the first -thing I saw on entering his bedroom was a dozen or more bunches of -orange blossoms, like those Nicette used to leave at my door; they were -symmetrically arranged on my neighbor's dressing table. That sight tore -my heart, but I had promised myself to be philosophical, so I sat down -beside Raymond's bed and tried to speak very calmly. - -"How are you this morning, Monsieur Raymond?" - -He gazed at me in amazement. - -"Was it to inquire about my health that you broke my bellrope and -threatened to break down my door?" - -"Oh! you must know that that was a joke! I had a question I wanted to -ask you.--You have some very pretty bouquets there; it seems that you -too are fond of orange blossoms?" - -"Yes, yes; I like their odor very much; it's good for the nerves, and I -am very nervous, you know." - -"There's a bond of sympathy between us, for these bouquets bear a -surprising resemblance to those that adorn my bedroom--and for which you -once expressed your admiration." - -"Yes, that's true; indeed, I remember now that that was what gave me the -idea of having some myself." - -"And are your flower dealer and mine the same?" - -He did not know what to say, and his head disappeared for a moment under -the bedclothes. - -"Well, neighbor?" - -"Oh! I haven't any regular flower dealer; I go sometimes to one, -sometimes to another." - -"Come, come, Monsieur Raymond, why fence with me; is this the confidence -of which you claim to set me an example? Are you afraid of making me -angry? Don't be afraid; I ceased to think about little Nicette a long -while ago." - -At that, he took his whole head out from beneath the bedclothes, and -looked at me with a surprised and pleased expression. - -"What! do you mean it? you have ceased to think about the little flower -girl?" - -"I never thought about her!" - -"Well! do you know, I almost suspected as much! Besides, we have Madame -de Marsan, who must occupy a good deal of our attention!" - -"Never mind Madame de Marsan; tell me about your intrigue with Nicette." - -"Oh! it isn't a long story! I confess that I am madly in love with her! -You know how pretty she is!" - -"A saucy face!" - -"The deuce! saucy! you call her saucy! you are hard to please." - -"Well?" - -"I go to make love to her almost every night. At first she was a little -inclined to be wild; but I was so skilful at wheedling her, that now she -can't get along without me, and I am sure that she adores me." - -"Has she told you so?" - -"Almost; besides, those things don't need to be told; they can be seen. -I know women so well!" - -"You are more fortunate than I. So you have triumphed?" - -"Not altogether as yet; but it won't be long, I am getting ahead very -fast. Look you, with women, just be assiduous, persistent, and -agreeable, and you can be sure of victory! Oh! I'm a crafty dog, I am, a -finished rou! A man must be that, to please the women. Sentiment, -sighs, tender words, those were all right once; nowadays, at the first -meeting, you inflame; at the second, you toy; at the third, you take a -kiss--pinch the knee, squeeze her, and she is yours." - -I could not restrain an angry movement. - -"And this is the man she loves!" I said, rising abruptly. - -Raymond, terrified by my action, had buried himself anew under the -bedclothes. - -"Do you still have nervous paroxysms?" he cried, without showing his -face. - -"No, no, I'm all right. Adieu, Monsieur Raymond! be happy; and, above -all things, make Nicette happy." - -With that, I left him, returned to my own room, and locked the door. -There I could at least give free vent to the passions which agitated me, -and which I had had the strength to restrain in Raymond's presence. My -heart was torn by love, jealousy, anger, and the most profound -melancholy in turn. I tried to regain my self-control and to overcome a -weakness at which I blushed; then I went out. For a week I courted the -distractions of society and abandoned myself to what men call pleasure. -But those things that once attracted me no longer had the slightest -charm for me. I went to the theatre, to balls, concerts, the most -brilliant parties; everywhere I was bored and discontented; wherever I -went, I carried in the depths of my heart a melancholy, a depression -which I could not overcome. - -I was always delighted to go home; I was happier there; I sought new -suffering in my memories; but that very suffering had a charm for me -which I failed to find in society. But if I wished to forget _her_, I -must needs leave those lodgings. How could I fail to think of her in -that room, on that bed where she had slept! everything there reminded me -of her and fed my love for her. I felt that I must go away; that I must -leave Paris, where life had become unendurable to me. Distance, change -of scene, and time, which, they say, triumphs over everything,--those -were the remedies with which I must treat the insane passion that held -sway in my heart. I would go to see my sister; she had ceased to expect -me, but she would be none the less glad to see me; at all events, I -should find there people who loved me. It seemed to me that that would -do me good. My preparations were soon made. I locked the door of my -lodgings, which I retained, although I was resolved never to occupy them -again. I forbade Madame Dupont to let anyone enter except herself; she -was to take care of them. I paid two quarters' rent in advance, and -started for my sister's. - - - - -XXVIII - -LIFE IN THE PROVINCES - - -I arrived in due time at the country estate where my sister ordinarily -passed the whole year. From a distance I saw that the window shutters -were closed. Could they be travelling? She surely would have written me. -I rang the bell at the gateway; the gardener admitted me and informed me -that Monsieur and Madame Dneterre had gone to Melun for the winter, and -that they came into the country on fine Sundays only. As the city was -only two or three miles distant, I set out on foot. It was beginning to -be dark, but there was a moon. On the way, I tried to imagine what had -induced my dear relations to change their mode of life. They used never -to leave their country house; but they had been married a number of -years, and they probably were beginning to find that they had not so -much to say to each other. Then the winter evenings seemed long to them, -I supposed, so it occurred to them to try passing them in town. That is -the way such fine plans for the future always end! Is there anything on -earth that is beyond the reach of the effects of time? - -I came in sight of the first houses of Melun, a pretty little town, -where I used to enjoy myself immensely in the old days; I should surely -find it delightful, now that Paris was unendurable to me. This much was -certain, that change of scene necessarily causes distraction, and -distraction is the very best remedy for pains of the heart and mind. -Besides, I was no Werther; I had no inclination to nourish my love and -my sorrow in dense forests, or on the brink of a precipice. On the -contrary, I was trying to cure myself; that is the most sensible course; -less romantic, it is true, but more in accordance with nature; and I am -all for the natural. - -I inquired my sister's address. I walked through a part of the town, -which would be its Faubourg Saint-Germain, and I soon found the -Dneterre mansion. In the provinces a family generally occupies a whole -house, whereas in Paris three families often live on the same floor. I -confess that it is pleasanter to be alone in your house, to be able to -do whatever you choose without fear of annoying your neighbors, to be -spared the necessity of meeting repulsive faces, insolent servants, and -snarling children on the stairs, to find no marks of a dog or cat on -your doormat, when for cleanliness' sake you keep no animals yourself; -and lastly, to be able to dismiss your concierge when he is -disrespectful, whereas in Paris you must bribe him, no matter how -insolent he may be, at the risk of passing the night in the street or at -the police station, because, in the company of your friends, you have -forgotten to keep watch of the time. These are some notable advantages -of the provinces over the capital. - -My sister uttered a cry of surprise and delight when she saw me; she -threw her arms round my neck and kissed me. - -"Is it really you, dear Eugne?" she said. "In truth, I didn't expect to -see you before next spring. Ah! it's very sweet of you to remember your -best friends at last." - -I did not tell her that nothing but the desire to avoid Nicette had -driven me from Paris; there was no need of that; besides, I preferred to -be spared the comments of my dear Amlie, who was something of a gossip, -which one is sure to be when one lives in the provinces, where there is -not enough to do to keep people from meddling with their neighbors' -affairs. - -My sister sent for her husband, who had gone to play billiards with some -friends. - -"So he no longer passes all his evenings at home?" I asked Amlie. - -"Oh! my dear, the evenings are very long in winter, and one must do -something. In the provinces, gambling is the general rule; one must -needs conform to it and do as others do." - -"That is true; it is what I have always thought, and what I told you at -the time of your marriage, when you were laying out a scheme of life -which resembled nothing ever heard of. You told me that I was a -heedless, foolish fellow, because I laughed at your plans of seclusion, -and of the happiness you were to enjoy in solitude; and now you have -abandoned that solitude!" - -"Oh! only for the winter; for in winter the country is very dismal; you -see nobody, you can't walk or drive. Everybody flocks to the town, where -they give receptions, play cards, dance sometimes--in short, enjoy -themselves. That's why we came. What would you have? we must do as -others do." - -"Why, it seems perfectly natural to me. At all events, you are happy, -aren't you?" - -"Yes, my dear, very happy! My husband is the best of men; a little -obstinate, to be sure, and not always willing to listen to me when I -prove to him that I am right. The result is that we dispute sometimes; -but that's nothing!" - -"Oh, no! besides, we must do as others do, must we not?" - -"You haven't kissed my children yet, my two little boys; they are -charming little fellows, perfect demons! But bright! you may judge for -yourself." - -"Where are they?" - -"They're in bed; it's nearly eight o'clock." - -"We mustn't wake them." - -"No; you shall see them to-morrow. It's more than a year since you came -to see us--fifteen months at least! They have grown tremendously in that -time! The older one is four now, and the younger three. You can tell us -whom they look like." - -Dneterre's appearance interrupted our conversation. My brother-in-law -manifested great pleasure at my arrival; he embraced me with sincere -cordiality, urged me to pass the winter with them at Melun, and I saw in -his eyes that his heart agreed with his lips; I noticed simply that when -he came in he had in his hands a billiard cue, which he stood in a -corner. We talked business and the news of Paris for a moment. Dneterre -was in good spirits; his cotton mill was prosperous, his business was in -excellent shape, he hoped to be able to retire and live on his income in -a few years. - -While we were talking, Amlie went in and out, gave orders, had a room -made ready for me, invited me to take something before supper. - -"I never take supper," I said. - -"You must do it here, my dear; it's one of the customs of the province, -and it's not disagreeable, I assure you." - -"All right; I'll take supper when I am hungry." - -"Speaking of eating," said Dneterre, "where are the children? Why don't -they come to kiss their uncle?" - -"They're in bed, my dear," said Amlie. - -"In bed, already! why, that's ridiculous! You put them to bed too -early." - -"Their health requires it." - -"Boys don't need to sleep so much." - -"Boys who run about and play all day must need rest when night comes." - -"No matter; I want them to come to kiss their uncle." - -"They can do it just as well to-morrow morning." - -"To-morrow! to-morrow! that won't be the same thing at all. I'm going to -get them." - -"What! wake them up! upon my word! I would like to see you--just to make -them sick." - -"You're the one who makes them sick, making them sleep like dormice." - -"At this rate, I shan't have anything to say about my own children." - -"They are boys; it's my place to train them." - -"You don't understand anything about it; besides, it isn't my fault that -they're not girls." - -As I saw that the discussion was becoming warm, I made haste to change -the subject by taking the billiard cue and handing it to Dneterre. - -"Is this cue yours?" - -"Yes; it's a prize cue that I won at pool not long ago." - -"Ah! so you play pool, do you?" - -"Every night; I am a very good hand at it." - -"Very well; go and finish your game. No ceremony between us, you know. -Besides, I am tired and am going to bed." - -"Until to-morrow, then," said Dneterre, taking his prize cue eagerly; -"you must join us to-morrow, and you will see what progress I've made -since last year, especially since I have been using a patent cue." - -Dneterre left us, and Amlie took me to my room, showing me on the way -a large part of the house, and telling me in detail all that she had -lately had done to it, and the further improvements that she had in -view. I noticed in my sister's conversation something of the tone of the -old gentleman with whom I had dined at Madame de Marsan's country house, -and who dilated so complacently on the details of his barnyard and -hencoop. But I began to understand that the story of the birth of a -chicken and the education of a rabbit might be of great interest to -people who had nothing else to do. - -In the course of our conversation, I asked my sister if she often had -disputes with her husband. - -"Disputes!" she exclaimed, with a surprised look; "why, we never have -any." - -"I thought that just now----" - -"Oh! you call that a dispute! why, my dear boy, that was nothing at all; -we have a hundred little arguments like that during the day; but they're -not disputes! You see, when two people live together, it's very hard to -be always of the same opinion." - -"I should think that it would be more agreeable." - -"But it's impossible! Ah! my dear Eugne, anyone can see that you're a -bachelor! you know nothing at all about married life; but before long I -hope that you will know all the joys of marriage, of which you have no -conception now." - -"No; I agree that I have no conception of them." - -"Patience, it will come in time. Good-night, dear Eugne; until -to-morrow!" - -My sister left me, and I went to bed reflecting on the manner of life of -which Amlie and her husband had just given me a specimen; and yet it -was a delightful household, so everybody said. This much was -certain--that my sister was virtuous, and true to her husband, and that -Dneterre was very fond of his wife and children. Why, then, those -frequent disputes?--I saw that my sister was right: I had undertaken to -argue about conjugal happiness, and I did not know what it was. I -concluded that the best thing I could do was to go to sleep. - -The journey had tired me, but the sight of my sister and her husband had -diverted my thoughts from my grief, for all troubles yield at last to -time and to distraction. I fell asleep in a more tranquil frame of mind -than I had known for a long while; and I should doubtless have slept -well into the forenoon, if my dear nephews had not taken it upon -themselves to wake me. At seven o'clock I heard a great noise in my -room; I felt somebody pulling my leg and my arm; I opened my eyes and -saw my sister's two children, who had climbed on my bed and were amusing -themselves by playing tricks and tumbling all over me. While I, still -half asleep, gazed vacantly at them, I heard a roar of laughter behind -me; I drew the curtain aside and discovered Dneterre seated a few feet -from the bed and laughing at my surprise. - -"Well!" he said; "here they are; what do you think of them?" - -"Why, they are in excellent condition, so far as I can see." - -"Aren't they fine boys?" - -"Yes, indeed." - -"Ah! I'll make hearty little chaps of them, I tell you! They're such -merry, lively rascals!" - -"So I see; just tell them not to pinch me so hard. Here's one of them -who won't let go my calf." - -"It's only play, my dear fellow. They wake me like this every morning. -Tell me, is there any greater pleasure?" - -"Yes, to a father, it must be perfectly charming; but to an uncle, you -see, it hasn't quite the same fascination." - -"Parbleu! it rests entirely with you to become acquainted with that -pleasure; marry, and have children; they'll caress you as these little -fellows caress me." - -"Oh! I shall do it some day, no doubt." - -"Come, my hearties, kiss your uncle and let him dress." - -To prove their affection, the "hearties" threw themselves on my stomach, -seized my head, and, while kissing me, rubbed their faces clean and -wiped their noses on my cheeks and nose; they tried to see which would -kiss me the more. I was suffocating, I cried for mercy; their papa was -forced to order them to desist, but they listened to him no more than to -me, and kept on as before. Luckily, my sister arrived and the scene -changed. - -"What!" she exclaimed, striding angrily toward her husband; "you brought -the children to their uncle before I had washed and dressed them and -combed their hair?" - -"Well! what of that, my dear love? must they be in their Sunday best to -bid their uncle good-morning?" - -"It isn't a question of Sunday best; but I should have liked Eugne to -see them first when they were decently clean; and when they have once -begun to play, it isn't possible to keep them looking decent. But you do -everything without consulting me!" - -"I assure you, my dear sister, that I consider them very nice as they -are." - -"Come, young gentlemen, breakfast is waiting." - -The word _breakfast_ caused my little rascals to decamp at once; they -were soon off my bed, and I was able to rise. - -It seemed to me that examples of wedded bliss succeeded each other -rather swiftly under my sister's roof. But I was inclined to think that, -if I should marry, I should not take them as patterns in the matter of -bringing up children. But I had arrived only the night before, and it -was fair to wait before forming a final judgment. - -I went downstairs and joined the family in the dining room. While we -breakfasted, Amlie and her husband described their daily life to me. In -the morning, business, housekeeping, and a walk when they had any time -to themselves; in the evening, Dneterre went to the caf to play pool, -while his wife dressed to go out. Every evening in the week was taken: -Monday, at the notary's, a small and select party. The most notable of -the townspeople met there. There was little card playing, but much -political discussion, and one could learn there the news of all the -cabinets in Europe; the interests of each of the powers were discussed, -and the _Moniteur_ was read aloud. Tuesdays, at the house of a retired -merchant; he was a rich man and entertained handsomely: beer, cake, and -sweetened water flavored with orange. The play was for very high stakes: -boston for six _blancs_, and cart for five sous; the bets sometimes -went as high as seventy-five centimes! But all games were played there; -whist and boston with great skill. No one called for six tricks unless -he had eight, or stood unless he held an _indpendance_; so that it was -very unusual to see a _remise_ in the course of the evening. Wednesdays, -the evening was spent with the widow of the justice's clerk, who had -four daughters to marry and no money to give them. There they played -innocent games or acted charades or proverbs. In the first place, those -games do not wear out cards, and require fewer candles; in the second -place, the young men soon become well acquainted with the young ladies -while playing such games. They talk and laugh together; and many a -passion has had its birth in crambo, or the little box of _amourettes_. -While whispering a _confidence_, one can easily put in a word of love; -while pretending to sulk, one can say many things! That is the way more -than one marriage is made; and when one has four daughters to look -after, no means should be neglected. However, everything was all right -at the widow's; the games were carried on with the strictest decorum, -and blind-man's-buff seated was prohibited. Thursdays, the meetings were -at an ex-councillor's. Everybody was not received there; only the cream -of society. The guests were forbidden to talk politics, war, affairs of -state, or newspaper rumors. There was no card playing, because that was -a bad example for the young; there was no dancing, because madame la -conseillre, who was old but coquettish, could never obtain a partner; -there were no charades, because they disturb the orderly arrangement of -a salon, and may result in marring the furniture and tearing curtains; -there were no innocent games, because the councillor considered them -indecorous; there were no refreshments, because well-bred people never -need anything of the sort. With these restrictions, one could say and -do whatever one chose, and, of course, enjoy one's self immensely. On -Fridays they met at the house of an elector, whose wife, who was young -and pretty, followed all the fashions of the capital. There you did -whatever you chose; no restraint, no ceremony. Dancing was permitted, -and singing, when anyone desired to sing. Sometimes there was -instrumental music, because there was a piano. All sorts of games were -played, from loto to chess; and you could risk a sou or a louis at your -pleasure. Everybody said what came into his head; they laughed and joked -and talked as they liked; opinions were free; almost all the newspapers -were to be found there, and all sorts of refreshments were provided. It -was after the style of the receptions in the Chausse d'Antin at Paris. - -On Saturdays--ah! that was the day when they all met at my sister's. - -"You will see what fun we have," she said to me; "such a noise, such -_go_! You can't hear what anyone says, but we laugh, and everyone tries -to be merrier than the rest. Why, sometimes the time passes so quickly, -that they are still here at half-past ten!" - -"Half-past ten in the morning?" - -"Why, no! in the evening. Are you mad?" - -"Do you call that late?" - -"I should say so! the custom is to go home at ten o'clock precisely." - -"Great heaven! I am no longer surprised that your children wake you up -at seven o'clock! But on Sundays?" - -"Oh! on Sundays we meet at monsieur le maire's. There are always a lot -of people there. He has a billiard table, and, besides that, the young -people dance. You can judge for yourself what fun we have. That, my -dear Eugne, is the way we employ the week. As you see, there is some -new pleasure every day, and we have no time to be bored." - -"You have no theatrical performances?" - -"Very seldom; but we get along without them." - -"No concerts?" - -"Why, what about those we give among ourselves? And then, in fine -weather, there are the drives about the neighborhood, which are -beautiful: the little forest of La Rochette, Trois-Moulins, and a -thousand delicious spots. And fishing and hunting, and the news of the -town; the little intrigues that everybody knows about after a week, the -quarrels, the gossip, the comments, the fashions, which we think about -here even more than they do in Paris; and the parties, dinners, -baptisms, weddings; ah! the weddings above all! they give us something -to talk about for a month!--Oh! you'll see, my dear brother, that we -have a much better time in the provinces than they do in Paris." - -My sister did not interrupt her enumeration of the pleasures of -provincial life until she saw her husband giving coffee to the little -boys, when a slight discussion ensued. - -"Why do you give those children coffee? it won't do them any good." - -"Bah!" - -"It excites them." - -"Bah!" - -"And then, they don't sleep at night." - -"Bah! bah!" - -"Oh! how you tire me with your _bah! bah!_ I tell you, I don't want them -to drink it!" - -"Just a drop." - -"It makes no difference." - -"It's three-fourths milk." - -"If there were twice as much, it would make no difference.--Come here, -messieurs, and don't drink any more." - -"I want some more!" - -"Here, my boy, drink this." - -"Will you obey me this minute!" - -"Come, come, let them alone." - -"No, I don't want them to drink it." - -And my sister seized the cup, her husband held fast to it, and the -children squealed. Luckily, between them the cup was broken and the -coffee spilled, which fact put an end to this scene of domestic bliss, -to which I found it difficult to accustom myself. The day was employed -in showing me the town and taking me to see my sister's intimate -acquaintances. I let her take me wherever she wished; I was so -complaisant and docile that she was enchanted. She found me much more -staid and reasonable than at my last visit. - -After dinner, Dneterre took me to play a game of pool at his caf; then -we went home to get my sister to go to a reception. It was Thursday, -unluckily for me. I had fallen upon the ex-councillor's day, and I saw -none but cold, forbidding faces, and stiff, formal figures. Fortunately, -the guests did not arrive until half-past eight and left at a quarter to -ten, so that the soire lasted only an hour and a quarter; the first -third was occupied in salutations and reverences, the second in -exchanging commonplaces and nodding the head in assent, and the last in -yawns, concealed with the hand, the handkerchief, or the snuffbox. - -The next evening belonged to the elector; it compensated me to some -extent for the boredom of the preceding one. I found there several -pretty women and a little less formality and more merriment. In the -course of a week I ran the whole gamut of receptions and knew the whole -town. I was well received everywhere; I was rich and unmarried: that was -more than was necessary to assure me a warm welcome. - -I began to become accustomed to the conjugal discussions, and to the -pranks of my nephews, who were little demons in very truth. I saw that, -taking everything together, my sister and her husband were happy; in the -finest weather of one's life storms may arise; a picture must have -shadows to bring out the lights. Their little quarrels did not prevent -their loving each other, and their children's defects were graces in -their eyes. However, I hoped that, if I ever married, I should have -fewer petty _discussions_ with my wife, and I resolved to bring up my -children in an entirely different way; but perhaps I should have -troubles which my sister and her husband had never known. - -I had been in the province a fortnight. I cannot say that I enjoyed -myself exactly, but at least I was not discontented. The novelty of the -life, the original faces that I saw every night, my sister's affection -and her husband's--all these served to divert my thoughts; time produced -its inevitable effect, my melancholy disappeared, and I became what I -used to be. However, I had not entirely forgotten Nicette; I felt that I -still loved her; but when the thought of her came to my mind, I had the -strength to put it aside, and I imposed silence on my heart. - -I would have been glad to fall in love anew--were it only a caprice, one -of those flames which used to set me on fire so quickly; perhaps that -would cure me entirely. But long for it as I would, I could not compel -any such feeling! I looked about me; I saw some good-looking women, some -few faces formed to please; but I saw nobody who resembled Nicette. - - - - -XXIX - -MADEMOISELLE PLAGIE.--A SCHEME TO MARRY ME - - -My sister, who was really a most excellent woman,--due allowance being -made for her tendency to be a little obstinate,--was overjoyed that I -had ceased to speak of returning to Paris. She had no mercy on herself -in her endeavors to procure for me what she called new pleasures every -day. She would have been so delighted to induce me to settle at Melun! -From time to time, she would ask my opinion concerning the young women I -had seen the night before; she would dilate in great detail upon the -virtues, talents, and amiable qualities of each one of them; then she -would extol the pleasures of wedded life, the joy of having children, -which, however, did not prevent her shrieking after her boys the next -moment, and disputing with her husband; but it was understood that those -were among the joys of wedded life. Ah! my dear sister! I saw what you -were driving at! you had gone back to your favorite idea; you were -determined, in short, that I should do as others did, for that was your -constant refrain. And then, to negotiate the marriage of one's brother -is an affair of such vast importance in a small town!--What an -exhaustless source of interviews, confidential communications, visits, -parties, new dresses--and, therefore, of pleasure! - -For some time I did not allow myself to be tempted. However, I was -beginning to believe that one might as well do as others do, especially -when one has lost that desire to flutter about the fair sex, that -longing for every pretty woman, which is so natural to young men. There -was only one for whom I had had any longing, for many weeks past--but -she had deceived me, so I must needs forget her as well as the rest. - -I had noticed for several days that my sister seemed even more content -than usual; I often saw her whispering with Dneterre, who in the end -always did what she wanted him to. They extolled still more warmly the -joys of wedlock, but they said nothing more about any of the young women -I had already seen; they evidently had some new hope; no doubt, I should -soon learn what was in the wind. - -"I shall try to make myself look very nice to-night," said Amlie one -day. "You will go with me, won't you, dear Eugne? It's Madame Lpine's -evening,--she was the elector's wife,--and they say there'll be a good -many people there." - -"But I seem to see the same persons every time." - -"Ah! there'll be some new faces for you to-night; Madame de -Pontchartrain has returned from her place in the country, and she will -be there." - -"Who is this Madame de Pontchartrain?" - -"A most respectable person, who has an income of seven thousand francs -and is seventy years old." - -Very respectable, no doubt; but I could not see why I should be -especially interested in Madame de Pontchartrain. Doubtless I should -learn the answer to the enigma in the evening. - -After dinner madame set about dressing. I had thought that Parisian -women were coquettes, but since I had lived in the provinces I had -learned to do justice to the belles of the capital, who passed two hours -less before their mirrors than the beauties of a small town. Dneterre -went off to play pool, and I walked in the garden while my sister was -dressing; for the first time I was vexed by her slowness; I was in a -hurry to arrive at Madame Lpine's--I, who ordinarily accompanied my -sister solely to oblige her; but one sometimes has presentiments. - -My sister was ready at last; Dneterre returned, and we started. We soon -reached our destination; in a small town no two houses are far apart. We -were announced in due form; for in the provinces you may not enter a -salon in good society without being announced. I glanced around at the -guests and saw no unfamiliar faces. I was almost angry; but while Madame -Lpine was arranging the different games, I saw my sister go to her and -heard her say: - -"My brother won't play cards to-night; don't count on him for boston or -reversis; he prefers the games." - -I had not said anything of the sort to her; what did it mean, that she -took that step without consulting me? I was just on the point of -demanding an explanation, when the servant announced: - -"Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece." - -Aha! there was a niece! I began to understand. All eyes turned toward -the door; I did like everybody else, and I saw a tall, thin, angular, -yellow-skinned woman, who, despite her age, held herself very erect and -seemed to have retained all the vivacity of youth; that was the aunt; -let us say no more of her, but give our attention to the niece. - -A flattering murmur ran about the salon as she entered. In truth, she -was very pretty; of medium height, but well set up; and if she was a -little stiff in her carriage, it was the result of her training. Her -features were regular, complexion rosy, hair very beautiful, and eyes -very large; as for their color, I could not as yet discover it, for she -kept them fixed on the floor. - -While Madame Lpine went to meet Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece, -and all the young women whispered together as they scrutinized the -newcomer, in whom they were undoubtedly seeking defects which they would -speedily find,--for women are very skilful in detecting at a glance -anything disadvantageous to their rivals,--I noticed that my sister -looked furtively at me, trying to read in my eyes the impression that -Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain had produced on my heart. - -Ah! my poor Amlie! my heart was perfectly calm!--calm, do I say? alas, -no! it was not calm as yet, but it was not that young woman who excited -it. I wished that it were; she was very pretty; she might well attract -any man, and I should have been delighted to love her. - -The niece's name was Plagie; I heard her called so by her aunt, who had -taken her seat at a whist table from which she would not stir until it -was time to go home. She urged her niece to enjoy herself, to be less -shy; Plagie blushed, and replied very gently: - -"Yes, aunt." - -The young woman seemed to be the personification of innocence. - -Madame Lpine took possession of Mademoiselle Plagie and led her to the -circle formed for the games. I took my place by her side; I was curious -to make the acquaintance of that young novice. I noticed that all the -other young women watched me when they saw me place my chair beside -Plagie's; jealousy and spite were blazing in their eyes already! In the -provinces, people are so quick to interpret the slightest action, the -slightest indication of preference! But it mattered little to me what -they thought; I was at liberty to do whatever I chose. - -How uncharitable young women are to one another! Those who came -regularly to the receptions enjoyed the bashfulness and embarrassment of -the newcomer, and tried to intensify them by putting the most difficult -questions to her in the games and making her do what was likely to -confuse her most. I detected their petty malice, and I tried to put -Mademoiselle Plagie more at her ease. Once she attempted to thank me, -and began a sentence the end of which I did not hear; but she raised her -eyes an instant, and I was able to see that they were of a very tender -shade of blue, and sweet in expression. - -Madame Lpine, who was a very amiable person and did her best to -entertain her guests, asked Madame de Pontchartrain if her niece was -musical. - -"Yes, madame," the old aunt replied; "Plagie sings, and accompanies -herself on the piano." - -Immediately all the young women begged Plagie to sing them something. -They hoped to find food for criticism. Plagie demurred very awkwardly; -she glanced at her aunt, who gave her a look which clearly signified -_sing_; whereupon she rose; I escorted her to the piano and offered to -accompany her. - -"No, monsieur," she said; "I will play my own accompaniment." - -Surely any other woman would have thanked me in a different way; but -Plagie was innocence itself, and I saw that she had not learned to -embellish her speeches. - -She sang us an old ballad in six stanzas. The subject was love; but no -one would have suspected it from listening to Plagie, who imparted -absolutely no expression to her voice or to the instrument. Any Parisian -girl, even when fresh from her boarding school, would have played and -sung much better than that; she would have rolled her eyes gracefully, -whereas this one did not lift them from the keys; she would have put -some soul into the words of love, whereas this one repeated them as -coldly as possible. The comparison at the first blush seemed unfavorable -to Plagie; but when I reflected that that which prevented her from -performing more brilliantly proved her innocence and virtue, I -considered that her awkwardness was entirely to her credit. - -My sister was enraptured. She saw me sit beside Plagie, speak to her -often, escort her to the piano, and take her back to her chair. That was -more than was necessary to indicate the birth of love; and, of course, -it would naturally end in marriage. - -The party came to an end; everybody took their leave; but Amlie found -an opportunity to present me to the great-aunt, who honored me with an -almost affable glance. As I went downstairs, I found myself beside -Plagie; I could not do otherwise than offer her my hand. She looked at -her aunt; a glance authorized her to accept, and she held out her hand -as awkwardly as possible. I was careful to touch only the tips of her -fingers; I had fallen in with the manners and customs of the town. -However, the ladies lived only a few steps away; so we soon reached -their house, where we left them after the three conventional bows; I -observed, by the way, that Plagie was very proficient in the matter of -courtesies. - -When we reached home, Amlie turned the conversation upon Mademoiselle -Plagie; I expected it, and I let her talk with her husband. They vied -with each other in extolling her to the skies. - -"She's a charming girl!" - -"Upon my word, she's the prettiest girl in Melun!" - -"And so perfectly well bred!" - -"Wonderfully so! a strict education; but what manners! what decorous -behavior in company!" - -"She is innocence personified." - -"She's an excellent musician." - -"And no one would suspect it, because she makes no pretensions." - -"Her aunt has no other heir; she's an excellent match!" - -"The man who gets her won't make a bad speculation!" - -"And he can be sure of his wife's virtue." - -Annoyed by my silence, my sister addressed herself to me at last. - -"Well, Eugne, tell us what you think of Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain." - -"My dear girl, what do you expect me to add to your eulogies of her?" - -"Aren't you of our opinion?" - -"Why, yes, pretty nearly." - -"Oh! you don't choose to admit it, but I saw well enough that you -thought her pretty." - -"Pretty; to be sure she is." - -"And well bred." - -"As to that, I think so, but----" - -"In short, she pleased you, my dear brother?" - -"Pleased me! oh! come now! I haven't said anything to prove----" - -"But I can't see why it isn't perfectly natural. Surely your lady -friends in Paris can't resemble the charming Plagie?" - -"Resemble her! Oh! as to that, I agree with you absolutely." - -Amlie seemed quite content; in vain did I tell her that she was -mistaken; she was persuaded that I was in love with Plagie. Dneterre -kept repeating that it would be an excellent match; and as I could not -make them stop talking, I adopted the expedient of going to bed. - -For several days nothing unusual disturbed the even tenor of life under -my sister's roof. Every evening I went with her to some reception; for -when I attempted to stay behind, she always found some way to make me do -as she wished. So that I saw Mademoiselle Plagie every evening, for she -accompanied her aunt, who never failed to be on hand for her game of -whist or reversis, which she even played in the morning, with three -dowagers who had done nothing else for fifteen years, and in whose eyes -their game was of such importance that one wept when her king was -trumped, and another fell ill because she had discarded the knave of -hearts. - -Plagie took part in the minor games, but she continued to be as shy and -embarrassed as on the first day I saw her. As she was very pretty, the -other young ladies had no mercy on her. Some of the young lady killers -of the town undertook to make to her the pretty, gallant speeches which -men of wit no longer venture to use, because they are too trite. But the -wit of the dandies of Melun seemed to make no impression on Plagie's -mind; she listened very coldly to their compliments, and made no other -reply than a low bow. The young men, vexed to produce so little effect, -went elsewhere to play the butterfly. I alone remained true to -Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain, and I alone obtained from her replies not -quite so laconic. To be sure, I paid her no embarrassing compliments, -and placed myself on her level by talking with her of the simplest -subjects. She seemed a little less timid with me; she began to raise her -eyes when she answered me; and twice I fancied that she actually smiled -at me. Decidedly I was a favored mortal. - -The novelty of this method of making love amused and distracted me. My -heart was still perfectly tranquil in Plagie's presence; and yet, since -I had known her I had thought less of Nicette. The young innocent filled -my thoughts, and, while I had no love for her, I liked to be with her; -her pretty face did no harm, but her shyness and her artlessness -attracted me even more. - -My sister had ceased to talk about her, but I saw she was well pleased. -The great-aunt treated me very affably; she interrupted her game -sometimes to inquire for my health; which fact indicated the -extraordinary favor with which she regarded me. The young ladies, it -must be said, no longer evinced the same interest in me, manifested much -less pleasure at my arrival, and did not make me pay a forfeit at the -kissing stage of their games; but as I attached no value to the -privilege, I paid no heed to their indifference. The mammas whispered to -one another as they looked at me, while the papas smiled slyly at me; -everything indicated that a great event was expected; I was perhaps the -only one who gave no thought at all to the subject with which the whole -town was agog. - -Dneterre was the first to open my eyes. - -"When's the wedding to be?" he asked me one evening, rubbing his hands. - -"What's that? what wedding?" - -"Parbleu! yours!" - -"Mine! with whom, pray?" - -"With whom! with whom! Ah! you choose to be close-mouthed! But we have -eyes, my dear fellow, and we know what to think." - -"But I believe I have eyes, too, and I have seen nothing to imply----" - -"Come, come, my dear Eugne," interposed my sister, "why pretend any -longer with us, your best friends? You love Plagie; what do I say? love -her? you adore her; I am sure of it. The whole town knows it, too; it's -no longer a mystery." - -"Oho! the whole town knows that----" - -"Yes, my dear. And the young woman has shown her preference for you; -that also is very easy to see: moreover, no one should claim to cut you -out. The aunt considers you a very suitable match; she knew our mother -and she thinks a great deal of our family. When her niece is married, -she will settle three thousand francs a year on her, and leave her the -rest of her property at her death. It seems to me that that is not to be -despised; with what you have now, you will be in comfortable -circumstances, and you will make a charming couple. Tell me, when do you -want me to go to ask for her hand?" - -I listened to my sister, and I admit that I was greatly surprised by -what I heard. However, on mature reflection, I realized that my conduct, -which would never have been noticed at Paris, might well, in a small -town, give rise to the conjectures which were relied upon to induce me -to marry Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain. - -Amlie and her husband told me so often and so earnestly that I loved -Plagie, that I began to think that they would end by making me believe -it. And, after all, should I be so badly off if I married that young -innocent? If I was not in love with her, perhaps I should be all the -happier; moreover, I was well aware that I was incapable of a new love; -the most that I could do was to stamp out that which still tormented me -in spite of myself. - -Beside the innocent Plagie, I should pass placid days; she was bashful, -virtuous, well bred; a husband would be able to mould her as he chose. -Friendship, they say, is more durable than love; I would begin with -friendship for my wife, so that I might love her the longer. I should -not be jealous; I should have one less source of torment. I should have -children, whom I would bring up on a very different plan from my -sister's. Finally, having a gentle, guileless, and taciturn wife, we -should have none of those little discussions which Amlie called -conjugal amenities, but which were in my eyes very unpleasant quarrels. - -All these reflections produced a state of indecision, which my sister -interpreted in accordance with her favorite idea. Persuaded that I loved -Plagie secretly, that Plagie adored me, and that our union would make -me the happiest of husbands and ensure my future peace of mind, Amlie -urged me, harassed me, persecuted me, to induce me to authorize her to -ask for the hand of Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain. At every moment in -the day she drew for me a new picture of the delights of wedded life. -Dneterre did the same; in the first place, to please his wife, and, -secondly, because he thought it would be a good match for me; to cap the -climax, even messieurs my nephews had been taught their lesson, and -every day, as they climbed on my knees or my shoulders, they would say: - -"When are you going to invite us to the wedding, uncle?" - -I am naturally weak, as you must have noticed; tired of being tormented -from morning till night to marry, I saw that I must either make up my -mind to do it or leave the town, where I was already pointed out as -Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain's future husband. - -But if I returned to Paris, what should I do there, tired as I was of -bachelor life, and conscious of a craving to love, to attach myself to -someone, and to detach myself from her whom I had loved so dearly?--No, -I would marry, I would adore my wife if possible, and pray that she -would prove my rock of salvation. - -The result of these reflections was that I said one day in response to -my sister's entreaties: - -"Do whatever you choose." - -Amlie asked no further questions; she threw her arms around me, kissed -me, and, giving me no chance to add a single word, flew to Madame de -Pontchartrain's to sue for Plagie's hand for her brother. In half an -hour she returned with the answer, which was favorable. - -"She gives her to you!" she cried from the foot of the stairs; "she is -yours; everything is agreed upon and settled; to-morrow I will attend to -publishing the banns." - -I considered that my sister had been a little too expeditious; it was -impossible now to retract; the request had been made and granted, and I -was bound!--What! I was going to marry Plagie, whom I hardly knew? It -seemed to me that it must all be a joke; I could not accustom myself to -the idea of being Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain's husband. - - - - -XXX - -AN INTERVIEW WITH MY INTENDED - - -After my marriage was decided upon, I received permission to go alone to -Madame de Pontchartrain's to pay court to Plagie in her aunt's -presence. In the evening, I sometimes escorted the ladies into society -and took them home. It was not infinitely entertaining to me. I began to -be weary of all that etiquette and ceremony, of all those provincial -puerilities; but I determined that, when I was once married, I would go -back to Paris and teach my wife another way to live. - -Despite all the efforts my sister made to hasten what she called the -instant of my happiness, I could not become Plagie's husband in less -than a month; and in that time I hoped to become better acquainted with -my promised bride. To be sure, I saw her every evening; but it was -always in company, playing parlor games, where everybody's eyes were -fastened on us, trying to divine what two people who are to be married -say to each other. Poor dears! in vain did you prick up your ears and -stretch your necks, trying to catch our lightest words; you could not -possibly hear anything to enlighten you upon that subject, because -Mademoiselle Plagie and I had never spoken of it. - -It may seem surprising that a promised husband had not spoken of love -and marriage to her to whom his troth was plighted; but I confess that I -did not care to admit everybody to the secret of my thoughts, and in -company it would have been very hard for me to say anything to Plagie -which would not be overheard by all the ears that were constantly on the -alert about us. Moreover, how can one discuss an interesting subject -while playing _La Sellette_ or _Monsieur le Cur_? I hoped to be less -constrained with her in the morning, but the aunt was always there; -often, too, some acquaintance came to make a call. I could not see -Plagie alone for an instant; it was impossible to carry on a connected -conversation with her, and I began to be impatient. It seemed to me very -natural to make the acquaintance of one's wife before marriage; I felt -sorely tempted to consign to the Evil One all that provincial etiquette -which was so utterly devoid of sense. I decided to apply to my sister to -obtain for me an interview with my intended. - -"Amlie, I should be very glad to have a little conversation with -Plagie." - -"Well, what prevents you, my dear? don't you see her every morning and -evening, if you choose?" - -"Yes, to be sure, I see her in the morning, but always in the presence -of her aunt and three or four old mummies who would deprive the most -impassioned lover of all desire to make love. Besides, Plagie is very -shy; how can you expect her to describe her sentiments before people?" - -"Why, my dear, you ought to divine them easily enough from the hints she -lets fall." - -"My dear girl, at the point we have reached I cannot be content with -hints; I want something positive; in short, I want to know what sort of -a person I have to do with." - -"But you are allowed to talk freely enough, I should think." - -"Ha! ha! that is delicious! but I tell you again, it isn't enough for -me." - -"In the evening, you always sit beside her; you can whisper to her and -squeeze her hand." - -"My poor Amlie, you make me laugh with your provincial privileges; a -man has much greater ones in Paris with young women he isn't proposing -to marry." - -"So much the worse for the girls in Paris, brother." - -"Or so much the better, for, after all, severity overdone is often -harmful; when the principles of virtue are once engraved on a girl's -mind, I don't see why she should not be allowed a reasonable degree of -liberty; those who would make missteps would surely have done it later; -but those who would always behave themselves, and would not abuse the -privilege of listening to foolish talk, they, my dear Amlie, would -bring with them, when they marry, a guarantee of their virtue; for you -will agree that there is no great merit in being innocent when it is -impossible to be anything else." - -"Oh! what ideas you have about women, brother! It is easy to see that -you have been spoiled in Paris." - -"I have much less narrow ideas than yours as to the training of girls, -sister; for example, I strongly approve the English method, by which -they are allowed to do whatever they choose before marriage. In London, -an unmarried girl goes out alone to call on her friends and -acquaintances. She may go to a concert or theatre with a young man, -without arousing the suspicion that he is her lover. She goes to balls -without a mentor; and in society she may laugh and talk and lead the -conversation, without being called to order by her parents. But when she -is once married, there's a great difference; she must lead an orderly, -quiet life, devoted entirely to the care of her household and her -children; she goes out only with her husband, receives no men except in -his presence, and at parties and receptions consorts with persons of her -own sex, who, like herself, refrain from joining the men, whom they -generally leave at table after dinner to drink and tell stories. Well! -do you think that such a very bad system? For my part, I am convinced -that there are fewer deceived husbands in England than in France." - -"Bah! they are deceived there before marriage, that's all the -difference." - -"And here, after marriage." - -"Brother!" - -"Oh! don't be angry; I didn't mean that for you." - -"Well! what is the point of your remarks?" - -"I want you to procure me a tte--tte with Plagie." - -"A tte--tte! do you mean it?" - -"With my future bride, it will be perfectly proper!" - -"But propriety--good morals!" - -"Propriety and good morals cannot be offended." - -"But the custom!" - -"Your customs are beginning to be very irksome to me; and if you don't -obtain me the interview I desire, I am quite capable of decamping some -fine morning and leaving you with my intended and her aunt and all the -gossip of the town on your hands!" - -"Oh! mon Dieu! the reckless fellow! he makes me shudder!--Well, I'll try -to arrange it. After all, you're to be married in a week, and--and--in -fact---- But I have an idea: I will go to Madame de Pontchartrain and -ask her permission to take her niece with me to make some purchases that -are necessary for her wedding; she can't refuse me; then I'll bring -Plagie here, and you can talk to her at your leisure." - -"That's a happy idea!" - -"But I trust, my dear, that you will behave yourself, and----" - -"Don't be alarmed! Really, you have a very low opinion of me." - -"The fact that I am going to fetch your intended proves the contrary." - -My sister did, in fact, go to Madame de Pontchartrain's. My threat of -leaving Melun had made poor Amlie tremble; she had not even been -willing to let me go to Paris to purchase the indispensable gifts; -Dneterre had undertaken to do all that. I did not insist, for I might -have fallen in with somebody in Paris who would have made me forget my -marriage. - -Amlie succeeded in her mission; she soon returned with Plagie, who, on -seeing me, blushed and courtesied as if I were a stranger. - -"Here is my brother, who will be delighted to talk with you," said -Amlie, as she led Plagie into the house. "I have a thousand things to -do, and I am compelled to leave you for a few minutes; but you will be -united in a week, so I can see no great harm in leaving you together." - -Amlie left us, and I was alone with my future wife at last. Plagie -seated herself at a considerable distance from me, so I began by placing -my chair close to hers and taking possession of both her hands. I was -glad to see that she made no effort to withdraw them. I gazed at her for -several minutes; she kept her eyes fixed on the floor and said not a -word. I concluded that if I did not begin the conversation we should sit -in silence and without moving all day long; indeed, it was my place to -begin. - -"You know, mademoiselle, that we are to be married?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"In a week, I shall be your husband." - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Does the prospect please you?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Then you love me a little?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -That was not bad for a beginning. Still, I was anxious to obtain -something besides that everlasting _yes, monsieur_.--I tried to go about -it so as to make her reply less briefly. - -"When you first saw me, did you pick me out from the rest, prefer me to -other young men?" - -Doubtless that question seemed embarrassing to her; it was some time -before she answered, but at last I heard a _yes, monsieur_. - -"Had your heart never spoken before you saw me?" - -"I don't know, monsieur." - -"What! do you mean that you have been in love before?" - -"Oh! no, monsieur; I don't know anything about love." - -"Why, you do now, don't you?" - -"No, monsieur." - -"Then you don't love me?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Would you prefer another to me?" - -"I don't know, monsieur." - -"Suppose you should be married to someone else, would you be sorry?" - -"I don't know, monsieur." - -"Then, why do you marry me?" - -"I don't know, monsieur." - -I nearly lost my patience; the woman would surely drive me mad with her -gentleness. I began to be afraid that I had mistaken stupidity for -innocence and awkwardness for timidity! But her hand trembled; probably -she was afraid that she had angered me. I felt that I must control -myself and not frighten her; that was not the way to attract her and win -her confidence. - -"Plagie." - -"Monsieur." - -"My dear girl, when you are going to marry a man, you mustn't call him -_monsieur_." - -"What shall I say, then?" - -"Call me your _dear_; I hope always to be that." - -"Yes, my dear." - -"Has your aunt brought you up very strictly?" - -"Yes, my dear." - -"Don't you ever receive any young men at your house?" - -"No, my dear." - -"Do you like society?" - -"Yes, my dear." - -"When we are married, what would you like to do?" - -"Whatever you like, my dear." - -"Shall we remain here, or go to Paris to live?" - -"Oh! I don't care. But----" - -"Well! go on, don't be afraid to speak." - -"I think I should like Paris better." - -"In that case, I am delighted to agree with you." - -And I kissed her hand, to manifest a little affection. She hastily -withdrew it. - -"Plagie, a promised husband may kiss his betrothed's hand as much as he -pleases." - -"Really?" - -"I give you my word." - -Instantly she offered me both hands. Her docility was charming; it was -something, at all events. - -"Plagie, what has your aunt ever said to you about me?" - -"She told me I might listen to you." - -"And then?" - -"That you had asked for my hand, and she had given it to you." - -"So she didn't consult you beforehand?" - -"No, my dear. What for?" - -"Why, to know if you liked me." - -"Oh! it wasn't worth while." - -"But it seems to me that if----" - -"I am too well bred not to obey my aunt." - -"But if I had been old, ugly, and gouty?" - -"That wouldn't have made any difference." - -"You would have married me just the same?" - -"Of course, if my aunt had said so." - -"Why, then you have no inclination for me?" - -"What is an inclination?" - -"What! has your aunt never told you that you must love your husband?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -"And be faithful to him?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -"Do whatever he wishes?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -"And never listen to other men?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -I could stand it no longer; I leaped from my chair. Plagie, terribly -frightened, rose also and looked at me. I paced the floor with long -strides. But she came toward me. - -"Have you hurt yourself?" she asked, opening her eyes to their fullest -extent. I could not help smiling at her question. I put my arms around -her and embraced her with considerable warmth; I was determined to try -to animate her at any cost. At first she tried to release herself; but I -told her that a future husband had the right to hold his intended in his -arms. - -"Oh! that makes a difference," she said; and she ceased to resist. - -"He may kiss you, too," I said; and I proceeded to kiss her repeatedly, -on her cheeks and her lips. She made no objection.--See how dangerous -ignorance often is! there was an innocent with whom a man might do -whatever he chose by means of false arguments. - -But as I heard my sister I released Plagie, who allowed herself to be -kissed with charming docility. Indeed, I fancied that she was beginning -to show some animation. - -"Come," said my sister, as she entered the room, "it's time to go back -to your aunt, my dear Plagie; she might not like it if you should stay -away any longer. You have had plenty of time to talk, and you will have -still more when you're married. Take your shawl and let us go." - -Plagie took her shawl without a word, and prepared to go with my -sister. I bade her adieu, whereupon she gave me a decidedly tender -glance. I believed that my kisses had produced some effect on her heart, -and that belief made me a little more hopeful of the future. - -I realized now that my bride had no intelligence; perhaps I might have -gone further; but I must needs make the best of it. I did not think -that, in order to be happy, one must have a genius for a wife; bright -women are generally very tiresome in their homes, and she who devotes -her time to displaying the gifts she has received from nature very -rarely thinks of taking care of her children and gratifying her husband. -As soon as a woman believes herself to be more intelligent than her -husband, she refuses to be governed by him. Moreover, I had had many -liaisons with clever women, and the result had not been flattering to -me. Agathe, Caroline, and Madame de Marsan were all bright. And Nicette? -she was, too; and yet---- Well, it was very fortunate that my betrothed -was not. I was well aware that there was a great distance between a -genius and a blockhead, and that if pretentiousness is irksome, -stupidity is even more so. But I hoped that marriage, which works so -many metamorphoses, would succeed in forming Plagie's judgment. I had -already fancied that I could see that my caresses had stirred her -pulses. There is a time when nature seems benumbed; at such a time a -crisis is necessary. Perhaps Plagie's heart and mind only needed that -crisis to develop rapidly. - - - - -XXXI - -I MARRY - - -The great day arrived when I was to utter that solemn _yes_ which would -bind me forever. Forever is a very long time--it is very short when one -is happy! - -At times melancholy thoughts oppressed me. I was not in love with the -woman I was about to marry, and I felt that it was the absence of love -that made us walk so carelessly toward the altar. Love, who charms the -present and embellishes the future, is a god whose presence is most -essential on the wedding day; he ought always to preside on such -occasions. However, I proposed to do without him; indeed, I must, for -whom could I love now? I should have ceased to think of _her_, but I -still thought of her. She did not love me; and if she had loved me, -could I have married her? It would have been madness; but is the madness -which makes one happy so very blameworthy? - -I felt tears in my eyes. Was that the proper way to begin that day? It -was my last thought of her. Henceforth I would never think of the past. -I must try to be light-hearted, to be amiable with Plagie. Amiable! she -would not notice it! But, no matter; I must forget myself. - -My sister was the first who entered my room. I fancy that she noticed my -depression; she kissed me and embraced me, and assured me that I should -be very happy. - -"God grant it!" I thought. "Thus far I have not been happy in love; -perhaps I shall be in marriage." - -I overcame my weakness and was myself once more. Poor Amlie! she was so -pleased when she saw me smile! - -By the way, where were my wife and I to live? I had not given that -matter a thought; but I was not at all disturbed, for my sister had -undertaken to look out for everything, and she was not the woman to -forget anything so important. However, I felt that I should be very glad -to know where I was to take my better half that night. - -"You haven't told me yet, sister, where I am to live." - -"That goes without saying, my dear." - -"Nevertheless, you will have to tell me, for I can't guess." - -"Has not Madame de Pontchartrain a magnificent house, of which she -occupies only one-half? You are to live there with your wife." - -"At her aunt's? I don't like that very much." - -"Don't be disturbed; your suite is by itself, and a long way from hers; -you need have nothing to say to each other, except when you please. I -knew, of course, that you would like to be by yourself, and I have had -everything arranged with that end in view." - -"All right.--By the way, has Plagie received all the usual gifts?" - -"Yes, my dear; have you forgotten that I showed them to you yesterday -and told you Dneterre had spent three thousand francs out of the money -you gave him?" - -"True; it had gone out of my head." - -"Plagie will be enchanted, I assure you. There's a beautiful set of -jewelry--and shawls--and dress materials." - -"Very good; so, then, there's nothing for me to do to-day but to get -married?" - -"Mon Dieu! that's all, my dear." - -"So much the better. What time is it to be?" - -"At eleven o'clock you are to call for your wife and take her to the -mayor's office. We shall have two carriages; I have ordered them." - -"Two carriages! it seems to me that's very few." - -"There are no more to be had in town." - -"That makes a difference." - -"But this evening we shall have several sedan chairs and Bath chairs." - -"Aha! so they have those things here?" - -"To be sure; they are very convenient and much less dangerous than your -horse vehicles, which always frighten me." - -"It is true that in a Bath chair the steed doesn't take the bit in his -teeth. And from the mayor's office we go to the church?" - -"Yes; at one o'clock." - -"And then?" - -"Then we come back here, and chat until three." - -"Where is the wedding feast to be?" - -"Here, my dear. At first Madame de Pontchartrain insisted on having it -at her house, but I finally carried the day. We shall be much more free -here, you know. We can laugh and sing and frolic." - -"I confess that I shall be delighted to be allowed to frolic. And the -ball is to be here also, I suppose?" - -"Oh! no, my dear; the ball is to be at Madame de Pontchartrain's; she -has a superb salon, where three sets can dance a quadrille at once. -Besides, it's more proper at night to be where the bride can -conveniently be put to bed!" - -"What's that? put the bride to bed? I fancy that that's my business." - -"No, my dear; don't you know that it's the custom for the bride's near -relations to take her to the nuptial chamber and undress her and put her -to bed?" - -"You will do me the kindness to abridge all that ceremonial, which I -consider utterly ridiculous, as much as you possibly can. It seems to me -to be the bridegroom's place to undress his wife and put her to bed--or -to postpone putting her to bed if he and she please. They are entirely -at liberty to suit themselves." - -"Oh! brother, think of what decency demands!" - -"My dear girl, some people are so decent that they end by being -indecent; just as some people are so bright that they end by making -fools of themselves. Extremes meet; too great strictness breeds -debauchery, just as extreme rigidity of morals often ends in their -entire subversion. _Summum jus, summa injuria._ The savages who live in -countries where they are not ruled by civilized man should have pure -morals, since they follow the inspiration of nature; and yet that -extreme purity which leads them to go naked and to conceal nothing from -one another resembles a refinement of libertinage among us. Diogenes, -who wanted to be a wise man, was nothing better than a fool; and Crates, -who considered himself a philosopher, was simply disgusting; and how -many writers there are who, by dint of trying to rise to the sublime, -fall into bathos! and scholars who, while striving to be profound, are -simply ludicrous! and actors who, in their efforts to be natural, appear -absurd! and dancers who fall to the ground because they try to jump too -high! The moral of all this is that we should seek a happy medium in -everything, and that when a husband and wife have complied with the -behests of the law and of religion they should be allowed to go to bed -without having somebody else place them solemnly between two sheets; -which, in my opinion, is better adapted to offend decency than to -gratify it." - -"I am very sorry, my dear, but the custom----" - -"I tell you, if I were in love with my wife, I would make short work of -this custom! but let us say no more about it; I will submit to whatever -you say." - -"Very well; dress yourself and come to breakfast." - -I felt that I must dress myself with care; the least one can do is to -try to make himself presentable on his wedding day. Although Plagie had -said that she would have married me just the same if I had been old and -ugly, I liked to think that she would notice the difference. I was soon -ready; unless he is a conceited fop, a man cannot spend much time over -his toilet, and I did not, like Raymond, reflect for a quarter of an -hour where I should place a pin or how I should arrange the ends of my -cravat. Speaking of my neighbor, I regretted that he was not at Melun; -he would have assumed the duties of best man, and would certainly have -invented something new; but it would probably have resulted to my -disadvantage, so perhaps it was as well that he was not there. - -My nephews came jumping and prancing into my room, to tell me that -breakfast was waiting; they were already in their gala costumes, and -were so wild with delight that we could not hear ourselves talk. Happy -age, when the least novelty, the slightest change in the daily habits, -the idea of a party, a wedding, a grand dinner--of anything, in fact, -that suggests confusion and disorder--causes intoxicating delight! We -ought to retain longer the characteristics of childhood. - -I found Dneterre in full dress. He came to me, embraced me, pressed my -hand with a satisfied air, and said to me in a half solemn, half comical -tone: - -"Well! you're one of us now!" - -I looked at him with a smile, and stifled a sigh which would have been a -rude answer to his congratulations. - -"Come, let's eat, and eat heartily!" said my brother-in-law, taking his -seat at the table. "You need to lay in some strength to-day, my dear -boy." - -So the chapter of jests had begun; but it was likely to be brief in a -small place, where remarks with a double meaning were frowned upon. At -all events, they might say what they pleased; I was determined to accept -everything with a good grace. But I thought it well to follow -Dneterre's advice and eat heartily; that was the best thing for me to -do until night. - -"Let us hurry," said Amlie; "it's almost eleven; we mustn't keep your -wife waiting, dear Eugne." - -"Of course not; that would not be polite; I am ready to start." - -"Come, Dneterre, have you finished?" - -"For heaven's sake, give me time to swallow!" - -"Oh! how long it takes you to do anything! Do put on the children's -hats!" - -"What! are you going to take them to the mayor's office?" - -"Certainly." - -"That's all folly; it won't amuse them, and they'll crowd the carriage; -it's much better not to take them till we go to the church." - -"But I insist on their going now! Do you suppose that I dressed them up -just to leave them at home?" - -"But I tell you we can come back and get them in a little while." - -"And I tell you that I propose to take them now." - -"There won't be any room for them." - -"You can hold them on your knees." - -"So that they can kick me and soil the ladies' dresses!" - -"They'll keep quiet." - -"It would be something new!" - -"Oh! how you tire me with your arguments!" - -"You are a most obstinate creature!" - -The clock struck eleven, and I put an end to the discussion by -announcing that I was going; my sister and her husband did the same, and -we took the little boys. I was very sure that that would be the result. - -The two carriages were in front of the house; the coachmen wore white -gloves and had huge bouquets. All the neighbors were at their doors or -windows; a wedding in a small town is such a momentous event! it -furnishes a subject of conversation for more than a week. - -We took five minutes to go about as far as the length of one of the -shorter boulevards in Paris; the horses were not used to coaches, and -their drivers drove very slowly in order that they might seem to be -starting on a journey. We arrived at last and were shown into the large -salon, where the intimate friends and the distinguished personages -invited to the first ceremony were assembled. I did not see my bride, -and started to go in search of her; but I was detained; I could not be -allowed to enter her bedroom yet. - -"She's coming," said Madame de Pontchartrain; "be patient, my dear -Dorsan, you will soon see her." - -I had no difficulty in being patient; still, I wished that it was all -over. I was beginning to be deathly tired of the compliments everyone -paid me, to which I soon ceased to be able to reply, because everyone -said the same thing. - -At last Plagie appeared, escorted by her aunt and my sister. Her dress -was magnificent, and her face even prettier than usual. The compliments -began anew. I listened to them now with more pleasure; the presence of a -pretty woman always suggests compliments to me, and I was not displeased -by the admiration my bride aroused. - -I hastened forward to take her hand; she kept her eyes fixed on the -floor and seemed to have resolved not to raise them during the day. I -led her toward the door and to the carriage, heedless of the -remonstrances of her aunt and my sister, who called after us: - -"That isn't right! wait! wait! It isn't your place to take her hand! -You're disarranging the programme!" - -I cared not a whit for the programme. Madame de Pontchartrain almost -lost her temper; my sister calmed her by attributing my heedlessness to -my excessive love. We entered the carriages, which process took nearly -ten minutes, because, in the first place, no one would get in first, and -then no one would take the rear seat. I had to hold myself hard to -refrain from pushing them all into the carriages--the ceremonious -idiots, who stood an hour on the steps! Poor lovers, who marry in the -provinces, how your tempers are tried! At last we were all seated. -Dneterre was compelled to walk with the children, who had already torn -the trimming of three dresses and stained several white satin shoes with -mud. Really, the little rascals were most amusing! - -We arrived at the mayor's office. As there is seldom a line of people -waiting to be married in provincial towns, we were not obliged to wait -an hour for our turn. The ceremony was performed quickly enough, and I -was married according to law; there was no drawing back. - -To reach the church we had to repeat the same nonsense with respect to -the carriages; it took even longer to arrange the order of march, for -several people had joined us at the mayor's office, and the procession -was swelled by three sedan chairs and two Bath chairs. My wedding had -stirred the town to its centre; the church was filled with people, and -we could scarcely force our way through the crowd. Those who were not of -the wedding party had come to criticise, those who were, to admire; and -the idlers, loiterers, working girls, matrons, and old women, to say -their say concerning the bride and groom. - -Everybody knows what a marriage is, for it is easy to procure the -pleasures of marriage in Paris. I will not therefore go into the -details of mine; it resembled others as to form, and several times I -heard some such words as: - -"That's a pretty couple; they are both very good-looking." - -A body always likes to hear such remarks. - -At last the fatal _yes_ was pronounced. Plagie said it so low that -nobody could have heard her; for my part, I showed much firmness. We had -a sermon preached to us--a little long, perhaps, but very touching and -moving. How can one fail to be moved when one is pledging one's self for -life?--I glanced at Plagie; she did not weep; her eyes were cast down, -her manner was as reserved, her demeanor as modest as usual, and she -showed no more than her ordinary emotion. That vexed me; it seemed to me -that she should have wept. - -At last all was over; I was married! We left the church between three -rows of sightseers, and went to my sister's; we spent three-quarters of -an hour in going the distance of a gunshot; to be sure, our procession -was increased by about half of the town, and we had to return salutes -and courtesies at every step. - -When we reached the house, it was only half-past one, and we did not -dine till three. What were we to do in the interval? That was the most -difficult part of the whole day. Some old women proposed a game of -boston or whist, but Madame de Pontchartrain thought that it would be a -breach of etiquette to play cards on a wedding day morning; it is good -form to do nothing; it is amusement enough to talk, sitting very -straight for fear of rumpling one's gown. - -Without asking our dear aunt's opinion, I went down into the garden with -my wife. I wanted to entice her into some solitary path; not that I -proposed to exert my marital rights already; but I wanted to try to -read Plagie's heart and find out what her present feelings were.--It -was impossible to be alone; all the young women followed us; the -inquisitive little hussies would not let us out of their sight. Two -young married people afford so much food for thought! they are so pretty -to look at--when they are pretty; and you know that we were. - -I could do nothing more than take my wife's hand; I squeezed it -tenderly--very tenderly--and she looked at me and smiled.--"The deuce!" -thought I; "can it be that she understands that language?" - -"You hurt my fingers," she remarked mildly, withdrawing her hand. - -It was enough to drive one to despair! I had no further desire to walk -with her alone. - -Luckily, the hour for the feast arrived. We betook ourselves, with the -utmost formality, as before, to the dining room; we took our seats in -the order demanded by convention. I was at one end of the table, my wife -at the other; that was the best way to encourage harmony between us; and -then, everyone knew that we should come together at last. - -The greatest tranquillity reigned during the early courses; we sat very -straight, watched one another, passed the dishes, ate, and declared -everything divine, exquisite, delicious: that was substantially the -whole of the conversation. I had no desire to enliven it; I was sober, -yes, pensive. Sometimes I glanced at my wife; her eyes were constantly -fixed on her plate. Madame de Pontchartrain's expressed the satisfaction -she felt at the reserved demeanor of the bride and groom; we certainly -could not be charged with acting like two madcaps. - -Upon examining the guests, I found that I had at my right a pretty, -vivacious young blonde, with whom I had several times laughed and joked -when we met in society, so far as laughter was permitted in the circles -that we frequented. I began to talk with her by way of distraction, but -she replied with marked coldness, reserve, and brevity. What did that -mean? Mon Dieu! I had forgotten that I was now a _married man_. I was -still inclined to play the gallant with young ladies, but I had lost my -title of bachelor, which was worth a hundred times more in their eyes -than all the pretty speeches I could make them as a Benedick. - -However, I was determined to amuse myself at any price. I tried to eat; -but I was not hungry. - -"I will drink, then," I said to myself; "but I must take care; a -bridegroom should keep his head clear." - -The dessert came at last; our appetites were a little appeased; the wits -of the party began to shine, the jokers to hazard a bonmot or two or a -very sly remark; the young men tried to laugh, and the women did their -utmost to consider it all very amusing. My sister was in ecstasies; she -did her best to encourage this well-intended merriment. As for -Dneterre, he was so busily engaged in carving, and in looking after the -small table at which his children were sitting with six other children, -that he had no time to put in a word. - -The dessert and liqueurs increased the general hilarity to the highest -point, augmented as it was by divers little pranks on the part of my -nephews, who knocked over two piles of plates, broke three glasses, -overturned sauce on several ladies' dresses, while coming to the large -table to fetch for themselves things that were promised them but that -did not arrive quickly enough to satisfy them. But they knew that on -such a great day they had carte blanche, and they made the most of it. -Everybody agreed that they were dear little fellows, even the ladies who -would have to change their dresses. Their papa and mamma were -enraptured, which was quite natural. - -The signal was given, and we left the table. - -"How is this?" I whispered to my sister; "no song?" - -"You know very well that it isn't good form nowadays, my dear. Is there -singing at the great weddings in Paris?" - -"No; but there is at those where the guests enjoy themselves." - -"We stick to custom." - -"And the garter?" - -"Fie! fie! we have done away with that; it was indecent!" - -"Oh! it was indecent, was it? I see that I must not do at my wedding -party or to my wife anything that the most rigid rules of chastity do -not permit. I trust, however, that you have not suppressed anything -else." - -"Oh! no, brother! besides, I am sure that to-day you have no desire -to----" - -"To what?" - -"Why, to----" - -"To what, in heaven's name? Finish." - -"Why, a desire to--with your wife---- Oh! you know what I mean." - -"The deuce! surely you are joking, my dear girl? Do people no longer -marry for that here? is that suppressed, too?" - -"No, my dear, no! but a man generally leaves his wife in peace the first -day. The poor child has been so excited!" - -"Yes; it is astounding how excited she looks!" - -"You must give her time to recover herself." - -"Go to the deuce, my dear Amlie, with all your nonsense! What is the -meaning of all this affectation? as if it must not come to that at last! -I don't like this prudery which denotes dissimulation pure and simple. I -know by experience that those who cry scandal the loudest are the ones -who in secret have the least virtue. The modesty of rakes and kept women -is much more easily shocked than that of virtuous men and decent women. -Fans hide more prostitutes than virgins, and veils are worn from -coquetry, not from modesty; in short, those who make so much fuss and -hang back at first are the ones who jump the highest afterward." - -"Well, you are free to do as you please, brother." - -"That is very fortunate!" - -Poor Amlie! how she had changed since she had been living in that -paltry town! So this was the banquet at which we were to laugh so loud -and have so much sport! For my own part--and I have been to many -weddings--I confess that the merriest are those of honest folk who are -not afraid of violating etiquette and the proprieties every moment. -Commend me to the poor people for real enjoyment! But I realized that on -this occasion I must say with the song: - - "When we are beggars, then we'll make merry!" - -My wife disappeared. Ah, yes! to dress for the ball--that was it. I had -nothing to say against that custom; in any event, I should have been -careful not to say it; I should have had all the young women about my -ears. Two dresses, sometimes three--that was one of the pretty customs -of that day. - -We returned to Madame de Pontchartrain's for the ball. It was the first -time that I had ever seen wedding festivities divided between two -places; but I found that I learned many things at Melun. - -We assembled in the salon, which was lighted by candelabra that must -have done duty in the time of King Pepin le Bref. The guests invited for -the ball arrived in a swarm; no one ever dreams of missing a fte in a -small town. The bride appeared in her ball dress, which was in very good -taste. I looked at her, but her eyes were still _in statu quo_. I -ventured to say to her, under my breath: - -"Do lift your eyes a little; you have such lovely eyes!" - -"Aunt told me not to." - -That was all I could extort from her. I had nothing to say to that; it -would have been ill-advised for me to play the master so soon. - -The orchestra began to play; we had two violins and a clarinet; also a -little fifer, to imitate Colinet; it was superb--at all events, it was -the best that could be had in the town. They played contradances that I -had never heard in Paris. I surmised that they were composed by the -leader of the local orchestra; it was impossible to make the mistake of -confusing them with those of Rubner, Weber, and Tolbecque. - -There was plenty of dancing; and in that amusement the pleasure was not -feigned, for youth loves to caper. The young men disputed with one -another the privilege of dancing with the bride, who was always engaged -for fourteen or fifteen quadrilles ahead. The groom's turn never comes -on such occasions; but on his wedding day he is easily consoled, and a -thing that would have distressed him terribly the day before makes no -difference to him when he is married. How a title changes one's way of -feeling and of looking at things! - -I too danced; I was very glad to have that resource to occupy my time, -and I was as persistent as my wife. - -"Do take a little rest," some young man would say to me; "you'll tire -yourself out." - -But I paid no heed, for I thought less than they did of what I still had -to do. - -Toward the end of the evening, however, I danced with Plagie; the ball -had warmed her up a little: her cheeks were flushed and her bosom rose -and fell more rapidly; she was really very pretty, and I ought to have -deemed myself very lucky to possess so many charms. I began to look at -my watch and to think that the time passed very slowly. - -But it was growing late, and many people had already taken leave. It was -one o'clock in the morning! a big slice taken off the night. Madame de -Pontchartrain made a sign to my sister, and they led my wife away. I -divined the meaning of that, and I waited until I might be allowed to -join Plagie. - -The ceremony seemed to me very long! Not until three-quarters of an hour -had passed did Amlie return and motion to me that at last I was at -liberty to go to my wife. - -All the guests departed; I did the same; fleeing from the jests that -bored me to death, I left the ballroom and bent my steps toward the wing -which I was to occupy thenceforth. - -I was directed to my bedroom; I had been careful to take a light, -otherwise I should have broken my neck in some of the innumerable rooms -of that old house, and the time would have been very ill chosen for an -accident. I saw a light--that must be the place. I opened a door and -entered a very handsome bedroom, furnished somewhat _ l'antique,_ but -provided with everything. Two wax candles were burning on the mantel; I -recognized several articles of mine on a table, for my sister had taken -pains to have all my wardrobe transported to my new abode. I was at -home; so far, so good. To make sure of not being disturbed, I bolted the -door, then walked toward the bed, the curtains of which were drawn--from -bashfulness, of course. - -I heard no sound. Could she be asleep already? or was she pretending to -be? I drew the curtains aside, and I saw no one in the bed, which had -not been disturbed. - -What did that mean? I was certainly in my apartment--everything that I -found there proved it. In that case, where could my wife be? Did it mean -that we were to have a bedroom each? Why, of course; and that was why -they hoped that I would leave my wife in peace. "The devil take them -with their nonsensical customs!" thought I.--If I had only known it -sooner! However, I wanted my wife; I was determined to have her, I must -have her. I had not married a pretty doll who never opened her mouth and -kept her eyes on the ground all day to be alone at night and occupy a -separate bed; the least I could expect was some little compensation for -the ennui I had suffered.--I would sleep with my wife--that was my -resolution--even though I must turn the whole house upside down to -attain that end. - -I reflected first of all that my wife's room could not be far from mine. -I concluded to try to find it, and to avoid making a noise if possible; -for that would cause scandal in the household of Madame de -Pontchartrain, who thought perhaps that I had married her niece to -obtain the right to make love to her at those innocent parlor games. - -I looked about and discovered a door which I had not noticed at first. I -took a candle, opened the door, and found myself in a fine salon. That -was very well; I continued my inspection of my suite. There was a door -facing me; where did that lead? Into a dining room. Another door opened -into a passageway; I went on and found a toilet room freshly painted; -all very pleasant, but not what I was looking for at that moment. - -I returned to the salon. Whither did that other door lead? To my wife's -room, no doubt; since I had been prowling about the salon as if I were -playing hide-and-seek, I must have passed it many times. I tried to open -it by turning the knob, but it resisted; it was locked on the inside. No -more doubt: my wife was there, and had been advised to lock herself in. -Ah! what sly creatures they were in that country! - -I knocked--no answer. I knocked again, louder. - -"Who is there?" someone asked at last; and I recognized Plagie's voice. - -"It's I, my dear love." - -"Oh! is it you, monsieur my husband?" - -"Yes, my dear; come, let me in quickly." - -"What for?" - -"Parbleu! I'll tell you in a minute. Open the door." - -"Oh! I can't!" - -"You can't! what does that mean? that's decidedly new!" - -"My aunt told me not to." - -"Your aunt doesn't know what she says. As she has been a widow -thirty-three years, perhaps she has forgotten that husbands and wives -sleep together." - -"Oh, yes! I know that you will sleep with me finally; but she told me -that modesty requires me to postpone the time as long as possible." - -"And I tell you that we must sleep together at once; modesty has nothing -more to do with our love; hymen has its rights, and you must listen to -it now; the pleasures it permits should not alarm your modesty." - -"I don't understand all that." - -"I will make you understand it when I am with you. Open the door, I beg -you. I can't begin to instruct you with this door between us." - -"I'm afraid that my aunt----" - -"Look you, madame, I am your husband, after all; you swore this morning -to be obedient and submissive to me, and you are violating your oaths -already! Come, Plagie, I beg you, let's not begin with a quarrel; open -the door at once; if you don't, I'll set the house on fire." - -"Oh! mon Dieu!" - -She opened the door instantly; she was in her chemise and hurried back -to hide herself in her bed; but it was easy for me to find her now. I -still had a few obstacles to overcome; but they were not at all -disagreeable; indeed, I should have been very much distressed if I had -not encountered them! On this occasion the rose was not without thorns. - -Let us draw the curtain over the mysteries of hymen, although they are -one of Polichinelle's secrets. - - - - -XXXII - -RETURN TO PARIS - - -The first days of married life are called the honeymoon. But the only -honey I enjoyed was a grand row with Madame de Pontchartrain on the day -after my wedding, because she perceived by her heavy eyes, her gait, in -fact, by a thousand symptoms which never escape a dowager's glance, that -I had already plucked the rose of hymen. She went so far as to reproach -me, to accuse me of immodesty, brutality, a purely animal passion, and -declared that I wanted to kill her niece. It would have required the -patience of a cherub to listen unmoved to such nonsense; and as I am no -angel, I sent our aunt about her business; I forbade her to meddle in my -affairs thereafter, and especially enjoined upon her to refrain from -offering advice to my wife. Madame de Pontchartrain shrieked and stormed -and raved; I withdrew to my apartment; and there we were at swords' -point! - -Old women are great talkers, and the dear aunt was spiteful and -vindictive in addition. Instead of trying to forget that scene, she -thought only of revenging herself for what she called my base conduct. -On the next day, the whole town knew that I was a hot-tempered, -ungentlemanly libertine, and that I had begun already to make my wife -very unhappy. - -However, my sister, who knew me and loved me, made haste to contradict -all the rumors that the old aunt put in circulation to my discredit; she -fell out with Madame de Pontchartrain, because she did not share her way -of looking at things. In the town, some believed the aunt, others my -sister; opinions were divided; it would almost have split the community -into two hostile camps, except that they were generally agreed as to the -main point, that is, the pleasure of making unkind remarks and the love -of scandal. - -I was very little disturbed by what the people of Melun thought and said -of me, but I was deeply interested in my wife, and I was desirous that -she should not agree with her aunt. - -Plagie found herself in an embarrassing position: her aunt told her not -to listen to me, and I told her not to listen to her aunt, who did all -that she could to induce her to come often to her apartments, while I -did my best to prevent her going there. Madame de Pontchartrain told -Plagie that she ought to command, to force me to obey her--in a word, -to be the mistress; while I tried to make her understand that when a -woman can do nothing but play parlor games, dance, embroider, and sing -ballads, she ought to call in her husband to assist her in managing her -household. - -All this frequently threw my wife into a state of painful uncertainty. I -had been her husband only a few days, and her aunt had been her mentor -from infancy. She was afraid of her, and I should have been very sorry -to arouse such a feeling with respect to myself. The result was that she -obeyed her aunt rather than me; and that had already brought about -several of those little _discussions_ which I desired to avoid. If -Plagie had had any wit or judgment, she would have felt that her aunt -was wrong. But, alas! she had nothing of the sort; and dullards are much -harder to lead than bright people. I hoped that she would acquire those -qualities, and that, having her eyes opened in regard to a certain -matter, she would become less stupid with regard to others; but I was -beginning to lose that hope. - -There was one point, however, upon which we were in accord: that was our -right to sleep together. As to that, Plagie was entirely of my opinion; -she no longer dreamed of having a separate bed, and was never tempted to -lock her door. I would have bet that it would be so; these little -innocents!--when they are once started, nothing will stop them! - -I had no desire to remain at Melun; but before taking my wife to Paris, -it was necessary that I should have lodgings prepared for her reception. -I could not take her to my little bachelor apartment; it was not -suitable for us, nor did I wish her to know anything about it. - -To find suitable lodgings, have them furnished and put in order, and -engage servants, would detain me in Paris at least a week; and if I -should leave my wife in her aunt's power for a week, God only knew in -what frame of mind I should find her when I returned! An hour passed -with Madame de Pontchartrain always caused a quarrel between Plagie and -me. When she left her aunt, who had persuaded her that she ought not to -listen to me, she made it her business to do just the opposite of what I -told her, to tease me and make me angry; it was extremely difficult for -me to bring her back to other ideas and to make her realize her errors. -If she should pass a week without seeing me, it would be impossible for -us to live together. - -What was to be done? I did not propose to live in the province any -longer; I was beginning to have my fill of it, and I felt that if I were -obliged to live there I should die. - -My sister saw my plight; and despite her desire to have me settle down -in her vicinity, as she saw that I did not enjoy the pleasures of -wedlock as I ought at Melun, she offered to send Dneterre to Paris, to -prepare an apartment for me. I accepted her offer gratefully; and my -brother-in-law set off, with full instructions from me. - -I prayed that he might return very soon. The time seemed terribly long -to me. I was obliged to remain constantly with my wife; and to be always -in the company of a person who has nothing to say, who often does not -understand what you say to her--what torture! - -At first I had hopes; the nights were some slight recompense; but hope -soon vanished, and even the nights sometimes seemed wearisome to me. Ah! -then I realized what a trivial thing mere beauty is! We become -accustomed to everything, to an ugly face as well as a lovely one; but -when, with the lovely face, we find no sustenance for the mind or heart; -when a little mouth is mute or says only foolish things; when two great -eyes have no expression; when the smile is always the same; when the -voice expresses no feeling--then there is nothing to do but yawn and -fall asleep beside that little chef-d'oeuvre of nature. - -But when we listen to some attractive person, who has the power to -describe what she feels, whose eyes and voice are equally eloquent, who -charms us by her thoughts and attracts us by her conversation, do we pay -any heed to her ugliness? No, we forget it; more than that, it actually -disappears, and the face that repelled us at first becomes agreeable to -us. - - "Are men of great minds ever ugly?" - -Doubtless beauty combined with wit aids materially in seducing us; but -if we can have only one of the two, I am sure that in marrying we should -not set great store by externals. That one should take a pretty -mistress, without bothering one's head as to her mental powers, is -perfectly natural; one can leave her as soon as she becomes a bore. But -a wife! a companion for the rest of one's life! what a difference! I -know there are many husbands who spend less time with their wives than -with their mistresses; but I am not speaking for their benefit. When I -married, I intended to have a happy home, not to leave my wife and run -after other women; and yet, as you will see, that was what I was obliged -to do. - -Dneterre had been away twelve days, and still he did not return. Madame -de Pontchartrain, who knew that I proposed to take my wife to Paris, was -more savage than ever; she tried every day to play some fresh trick on -me; she watched for her niece as the cat watches for the mouse; and -whenever she saw her, she inflamed her against me. All my time was -occupied in defeating her little plots; we played _Guerre ouverte_ in -the house, and that afforded me a little distraction. - -By dint of slandering me, the old lady had come to believe a portion of -her slanders; and if by chance I went to some reception, which very -rarely happened, I was conscious that a confused, incessant muttering -and whispering began as soon as I appeared. Some looked at me, others -turned their heads away; the old dowagers and the mothers, who were hot -partisans of Madame de Pontchartrain, lost no time in moving away from -me; there were some who even made a gesture of alarm at my approach, as -if I were plague-stricken. - -I laughed at all this with the sensible, reasonable people; but they -were not in the majority; besides, it is much easier to speak unkindly -than kindly of a person; it would seem that faults are apparent to every -eye, and that good qualities keep out of sight. - -At last Dneterre returned. My apartment was waiting for me on Boulevard -Montmartre; I could occupy it at once; everything was ready for my wife -and myself, and our servants were engaged. - -I did not propose to delay. I urged Plagie to hurry with her trunks and -boxes and bundles. She seconded me warmly enough; I believe that at -heart she was not sorry to escape from her aunt's authority, and to see -new places. And such places! Paris! the paradise of womankind! and the -hell of---- Great heaven! I forgot that I was one myself! - -It was all over; I had bid my sister, her husband, and my nephews adieu. -Plagie went to take leave of her aunt, for I would not have her fail in -courtesy toward her. Madame de Pontchartrain refused to allow her niece -to go; I was obliged to go after her. She declared that I had no right -to take her away, and tried to detain her by force. I was compelled to -abduct my wife; the old aunt pursued us to the front door and threatened -to come to Paris after us. But I knew that she would not; people do not -play boston in the morning there. - -We started; and in my delight I kissed my wife! It was just six weeks -since my wedding, and five months since I had left Paris. - -At last I saw it again, that splendid city, and I exclaimed: - - "Hail! city of uproar, and of mud and smoke!" - -I prefer thy uproar to the gossip and scandal and petty malignity of the -provinces; thy mud to the grass that grows in the untrodden streets of a -small provincial town; and thy smoke to those solid pleasures--which I -have failed to find elsewhere. - - - - -XXXIII - -RAYMOND REAPPEARS - - -The new apartment, in which we installed ourselves at once, was large, -convenient, and well arranged. I noticed that there was a room adjoining -my study, where I could easily have a bed placed in case my wife should -be indisposed and should prefer to sleep alone; for it is well to -anticipate everything. - -We had two servants, a maid and a cook; those were all that we needed. I -had neither horses nor intrigues, consequently I had no occasion for the -services of a Frontin or a Lafleur, who, having nothing to do, would be -driven to emptying my wine cellar, seducing my maid-servants, and -robbing me, to pass the time away. - -During the first fortnight after our arrival in Paris, my wife did not -give me a moment's rest; I had to take her everywhere: to drive, to the -theatre, to concerts, to the monuments and curiosities of every sort. -She compelled me to go all over the city with her in the mornings, being -determined to become acquainted with every quarter. She was never weary -of gazing in admiration at the Palais-Royal, and she would stand by the -half-hour in front of milliners' and dry goods shops; she was in -ecstasies, in the seventh heaven!--All the people, the noise, the -vehicles, the beautiful dresses, the young men who, on the fashionable -promenades and at the theatres, ogle women so respectfully and make such -pretty grimaces to those who meet their approval--all these fascinated -Madame Dorsan, who began to lift her eyes and even to flash some very -innocent little glances therefrom. Oh! as for that, I was sure it would -come. - -I knew Paris by heart; I got a little tired of parading through the -streets every day; still, a husband should be obliging. Thank heaven! -the time came when there was nothing more to see unless we began over -again; which my wife would not have been sorry to do; but I needed rest. -Moreover, she discovered that a young wife could without impropriety go -out alone in the morning; she knew our quarter very well, and I saw that -she would make the most of the liberty I gave her. - -At last I could breathe freely. I was tired to death of plays, driving, -and questions; I was delighted to be alone. I had as yet had no time to -visit my little apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. If my wife had known -that I had a bachelor apartment, if her aunt had learned of it, I should -have been adjudged guilty of carrying on secret intrigues. But I had no -desire for anything of the sort; never again would I take any woman to -my former lodgings. I wished that I had never taken one there. - -There was one spot which I longed yet dreaded to pass. While escorting -my wife about Paris, I had always managed to avoid taking her there. -Why? I had no very clear idea; but I wanted to go there first alone; I -should be more at liberty to stop; I should find my friend the messenger -there, and perhaps I might---- But, no; I would not question him; what -need had I to do it now? - -My wife was asleep; it was only eight o'clock, and we did not breakfast -until ten; I had time to go out for a moment. I proposed to visit my -former lodgings; I walked in that direction, but it was also the -direction in which Nicette lived. Passing through Rue Saint-Honor, I -had not the strength to resist the secret longing that impelled me -toward the flower shop. I walked very fast at first, but the nearer I -approached it, the more I slackened my pace. I did not intend to go in, -nor did I intend to speak to her; but I felt that I would like to see -her. - -I saw the shrubs standing in front of the shop; I crossed the street in -order not to be on the same side. If I should pass close to her, she -might speak to me, and I knew that at the sound of her voice I should -stop in spite of myself. - -I made up my mind at last to pass, and I walked very quickly, just -glancing across. But I did not see her; I saw a woman with an ordinary -face--oh! not in the least like Nicette. Thereupon I crossed over and -walked by the shop; she was not there. I turned, walked back, and -stopped, pretending to examine the flowers. The woman came to me and -asked: - -"Does monsieur wish to buy something?" - -"No, no!" I said, and walked away toward my messenger's stand; I was -impatient to question him. But he was not there; I waited nearly an -hour, and at last he came; he recognized me at once. - -"Your servant, monsieur; if I'd known you was here---- It's a long time -since I saw you, monsieur." - -"That is true; and during that time?" - -"Bless me! there's been lots of changes; the pretty flower girl ain't -there any more." - -"She isn't?" - -"No, monsieur; she sold her stock to Mre Thomas, who you see yonder in -her place." - -"She sold her stock?" - -"Yes, monsieur, and sold it well, too; for it's a good shop. But they -say Mamzelle Nicette didn't need it, because she'd made her -fortune--come into money." - -"And where is she now?" - -"Bless my soul! monsieur, I don't know; she didn't say where she was -going, and we don't never see her now." - -"And that man who used to come to see her every day?" - -"Why! he kep' on coming, but not so often toward the end." - -"Did he take her away?" - -"I don't know nothing about it, monsieur; but I'm inclined to think she -sold her stock of her own accord." - -"When was that?" - -"Why, near six weeks ago." - -"And you don't know where she's gone?" - -"No, monsieur." - -I paid the messenger and walked away; it was useless to question him any -further. Nicette had left her shop; what had become of her? what was she -doing? was she living with Raymond? That seemed impossible. Could he -have hired an apartment for her? I did not know what to think, but I -hastened to Rue Saint-Florentin. - -My concierge uttered a cry of surprise when she saw me. - -"Ah! there you are, monsieur! We really thought you must be dead! Do you -know you've been away almost six months?" - -"I know it, Madame Dupont. Give me my keys, please." - -"In a minute, monsieur, in a minute. I've taken good care of your rooms, -I've had your furniture beaten every month, and I've scrubbed and----" - -"Oh! I'm not at all disturbed. By the way, does Monsieur Raymond still -live on my landing?" - -"No, monsieur, no; he's left, and in his place----" - -"Do you know his address?" - -"Yes, monsieur; he left it here; he lives now on Rue Pinon, near the -Opra, No.---- Oh, dear! I've forgotten, but it will come to me. Here's -your keys, monsieur." - -"And that number, Madame Dupont?" - -"It's surprising; I knew it just the other day. But it ain't a long -street." - -"That's very lucky." - -"Oh! wait a minute! I forgot, it was so long ago! I've got a letter for -you; it's been here six weeks." - -"A letter!" - -"Yes. A young woman brought it." - -"A woman! give it to me, pray." - -"Here it is, monsieur." - -I took the letter and hastened upstairs to my room, to escape the -concierge's chatter. Once more I was in that dear apartment! how glad I -was to be there! But the letter! It seemed to me that the writing--ah! I -dared not hope--I broke the seal; it was she--Nicette--who had written -to me! - - "MONSIEUR: - - "It's a long time since you came to see me, and I didn't know why - you had abandoned me; you seemed to be angry the last time you - spoke to me, and I thought you were angry with me, but I couldn't - guess why. To-day I have heard that you are married; I know that - you can't think of me any more, or speak to a flower girl. I take - the liberty of writing to you only to say good-bye. I am going to - sell my shop and go away to some place where I can be alone, not - see anybody, and cry all I want to; for I am very unhappy, and I - can't get over it; it isn't my fault. I have inherited a lot of - money from my mother and an aunt who's left me all she had, and I - have more than enough to live on. But I don't forget that I owe you - everything, that you took pity on me when everybody else abandoned - me, and saved me from want. I shall never forget it! Adieu, - monsieur! I wish you every happiness in your home; may your wife - make you happy! she must love you dearly! Adieu, my dear - benefactor! - - "NICETTE." - -I read the letter several times. I could not help putting my lips to the -characters she had traced. Was that the language of a deceitful woman? -And yet I saw--saw with my own eyes Raymond sitting beside her, holding -her hands. I knew that he saw her every day; he himself told me so; but -could I place any faith in what Raymond said? Ah! if I had not seen him -with her! - -But why torment myself so? Was she not lost to me forever? was I not -married? It did not occur to me to be false to my wife, but I longed to -know whether Nicette loved me! I resolved to find Raymond and to try to -make him talk; that was not difficult, but to make him tell the truth -was no easy task. - -It was late, and as my wife might be disturbed by my absence I returned -to her, but with the firm intention to visit my old lodgings again, and -often. - -I carefully folded Nicette's letter and took it away with me when I left -my bachelor apartment for my home. - -Who could have told Nicette that I was married? My concierge did not -know it; if she had, she would surely have mentioned it to me. It must -have been Raymond. But how did he know? I was considering this question -as I approached my house, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned -and saw Raymond! Never, I must confess, had the sight of him afforded me -so much pleasure. - -"Well! here you are, my dear fellow!" - -"Good-morning, Monsieur Raymond!" - -"So you're in Paris now, eh?" - -"As you see." - -"Dear Dorsan! it seems a century since I saw you!" - -"I assure you that I too am very glad to see you." - -"Really? such an excellent friend! By the way, accept my -congratulations; I understand that you have made a magnificent marriage, -that you have a divine wife!" - -"Oho! you know that, do you?" - -"Yes; one of my friends, who happened to be at Melun, told me; you must -have met him in society--Monsieur Regnier?" - -"Yes, I believe I do remember him." - -"Well! it was he who told me the whole story. Ah! I was almost angry -with you.--'What!' I said to myself; 'my dear Dorsan, my friend, is -married, and doesn't let me know! me, who am so interested in his -welfare!' Oh! it was very ill done of you!" - -"You are too kind, really; but my wife is expecting me, and I cannot -stay any longer. And yet, I should be glad to talk with you. Won't you -breakfast with me?" - -"Won't I!" - -"I will introduce you to my wife." - -"I shall be enchanted to make her acquaintance." - -Raymond accompanied me home; he seemed delighted by the cordiality of my -greeting, especially as it was so unusual. He did not suspect that my -eager desire to talk with him was due to the fact that he alone could -tell me about Nicette, where she was and what she was doing. But I felt -that I must be prudent and not question him too abruptly; otherwise, he -would divine my sentiments, and it was more necessary than ever that I -should force them back into the depths of my heart. - -When we reached the house, I found that my wife was not anxious about -me, for she was breakfasting without me. I presented Raymond, who -confounded himself in compliments and high-flown praise which must have -bored Plagie; but women of little intellect often attach the greatest -value to compliments; with such women one can make one's self most -agreeable with commonplace remarks, and in that respect Raymond was well -endowed. - -The conversation, therefore, was confined to the pleasures of Paris, and -the sensation that such a woman as my wife must cause in society; for -Raymond always came back to that; he could not understand how a woman -who had always lived in the provinces could be so pretty and have such -distinguished manners; he was inexhaustible, but I breakfasted without -listening to him. As for Plagie, having learned that she might smile at -another man than her husband, she smiled at each of Raymond's -compliments, which gave her a chance to show her teeth. - -I saw that I could not mention Nicette that morning; my wife did not -leave the room; so I must needs be patient. - -"Where do you live?" I asked Raymond. - -"Rue Pinon, No. 2. I have left my old lodgings; you had ceased to be my -neighbor, and they had lost all their charm." - -"I mean to come to see you." - -"Oh! don't put yourself to that trouble; a bachelor is seldom at home; I -will come to see you, with your permission, and pay my respects to -madame now and then." - -"You will gratify us." - -"But I must leave you now; I have three appointments for this morning. I -have so many acquaintances! and not a moment to myself! Adieu, my dear -friend!--Madame, I lay at your feet the homage that your charms -deserve." - -And Raymond took his leave, well pleased with his last compliment. He -was the same as ever. - -"That gentleman is very pleasant," said Plagie, when he had gone. - -She thought him charming; I was sure that she would. That my wife should -like Raymond did not surprise me; but Nicette! - -I dared not call on Raymond the same day; but the next day I could wait -no longer, and I went to see him. He was not in; he had already gone -out. - -"Does he live alone?" I asked the concierge. - -"Yes, monsieur; all alone." - -I went away; I would have liked to know more, but I was almost sure that -Nicette did not live with him. I left my name with the concierge, so -that Raymond might know that I had been to see him; that would bring him -to my house, and perhaps I might be able to speak with him alone. - -He did not fail to come the next day. He was extraordinarily touched by -my kindness in calling on him. He promised to show his attachment for -me by coming often to see me. - -I paid little heed to all the pretty things he said to me; I was vexed -because my wife did not leave us. How could I find an opportunity to -talk of Nicette? Parbleu! I would ask Raymond to dine; then I would -suggest that we go to the theatre in the evening; after dinner my wife -would go to dress, and she always spent at least three-quarters of an -hour at her toilet; during that time---- Yes, that would do. - -I invited Raymond to dine with us informally; he grasped my hand and -squeezed it till he made me wince, so pleased was he with my kindness; I -read in his eyes that he could not understand it. Certainly he must have -found me considerably changed. Doubtless he concluded that it was the -effect of marriage. - -The dinner was fairly cheerful; Raymond's conversation never flagged. -Formerly, I was bored to death by his chatter, but it was a distraction -now; for I was not accustomed to hearing conversation, and I began to -experience satisfaction when anyone relieved me from a tte--tte with -my wife. - -Everything happened as I had foreseen. I proposed the theatre; my -proposition was accepted, my wife went off to dress, and I was alone -with Raymond at last. - -I led the conversation imperceptibly to his conquests. - -"By the way," said I, "what did you do with the little flower girl?" - -"Whom do you mean? little Nicette?" - -"Yes, little Nicette, whom you used to go to make love to every -evening." - -"Oh! it's a long while since that was all over, and I have ceased to -think of her! I have had so many others since!" - -"She was your mistress, then?" - -"Yes, for three or four days; and then I dropped her." - -"Don't you see her now?" - -"Never. I don't even know where she is, for she has left her shop. Oh! -somebody keeps her now, I presume. That little creature had the most -absurd pretensions! she wanted to play the lady, and that sickened me! -When I want a _petite-matresse_, I don't apply to a flower girl. -Everyone should stay where she belongs.--By the way, speaking of -_petites-matresses_, let us speak of your wife. She is really -beautiful! and so amiable, too! and she fairly sparkles with wit! I saw -that at the first glance. Deuce take it! how lucky you are, my dear -fellow!" - -When he began to talk about my wife, I ceased to listen to him. I -thought of what he had told me of Nicette; he declared that she had been -his mistress! could it be true? Ah! if I had not seen him in her shop, I -would have spurned the idea as a ghastly lie. So it was impossible to -find out what had become of her! Perhaps I should never see her again! - -That thought saddened me, and I could not banish it from my mind. My -wife returned, having completed her toilet. Raymond offered her his arm; -I motioned to Plagie to accept it, as it was not customary for a wife -to take her husband's arm when another gentleman offered his. If I had -been in love with my wife, I would have snapped my fingers at such a -custom; but, on the contrary, I was delighted to be able to go by myself -and dream undisturbed. - -Raymond was enchanted to have on his arm a pretty woman who thought that -everything that he said was charming. He went to the play with us, and -carried the whole burden of the conversation. I did what I could to -take part in it and to divert my thoughts; but, in spite of myself, I -kept falling back upon my memories. Luckily, neither of them perceived -it: my wife enjoyed the play and Raymond, and he was in ecstasies over -what he said and what Plagie replied. - -When the play was over, we all went home. Ah! how I longed then for a -separate room! but I dared not suggest it. - -That day gave birth to a depression which I could not overcome. My wife -said nothing, but I was very sure that she found Raymond much more -attractive than me. What idiocy to bind one's self to a person whose -sentiments have nothing in common with one's own! I said that to myself -every day, and every day I spent a little less time with my wife. I left -her to be amused by Raymond's conversation; and I went off to my little -bachelor apartment, to think; often I wrote there, and read, and worked; -I was so comfortable there! I let my thoughts stray back to happier -days; to the days when I used to find bunches of orange blossoms hung at -my door. Ah! how happy I might have been then! but I did not know enough -to appreciate my good fortune. Not until those moments were past and -gone forever did I realize all their worth! and when I left my little -apartment to go back to the other, I regretted them more keenly than -ever. - - - - -XXXIV - -I SHOULD HAVE FORESEEN IT - - -Whether we are sad or merry, happy or wretched, rich or poor, the Fates -spin the web of our days none the less. Mine was no longer of silk and -gold; but still the days passed; they seemed longer to me than if I had -been happy; that was all the difference, and therein people who are fond -of life should find some compensation; for years of sorrow count double. - -I had been married only a year, and I had already acquired all the ways -of an old married man. I did not go out with my wife in the morning; she -knew Paris as well as I did, and no longer needed my company; she went -out to pay visits, to make purchases, or to walk; I either worked at -home or went my own way. We almost always had someone to dinner, very -frequently Raymond, who had become the friend of the family. It was not -that I liked him any better than formerly; no, I did not look upon him -as a friend in the least degree; but he had become necessary to me, he -diverted my thoughts, he went about with my wife; he was always at our -service if we needed him to take part in a game or to do an errand; he -was really extremely obliging. Lastly, he had known Nicette, he was the -only person with whom I could talk of her now and then; that reason -alone was sufficient to lead me to seek his society. And yet, it was to -him that I owed a part of my sorrow; but he had rendered me a service by -showing Nicette to me as she really was. If she had listened to him, -she must have listened to many others! In a word, his presence was often -painful to me, and yet I constantly sought it--I always hoped that he -would contradict what he had told me about her. - -As for my wife, she could not do without Raymond; he was with her almost -every evening, while I went to my little bachelor apartment. They played -together; Raymond played the flute a little, and my wife the piano; they -both sang also. Raymond was an inferior musician, and my wife was never -in time; together, they considered themselves very fine. And then, -Raymond had a supply of compliments and gallant phrases which delighted -my wife, who had plenty of self-esteem and coquetry, and loved to be -told that she turned all the men's heads and that she was as witty as a -demon. - -I confess that I had never been able to tell my wife that she had -overmuch wit. Indeed, I had long since ceased to tell her that she was -pretty; it seemed superfluous to me; I had told her so when I was -courting her, and I could not keep saying the same thing forever. Such -talk seems to me most futile; a husband and wife ought to prove their -love to each other without having to pay each other compliments. But -Plagie, who did not know what to reply when you talked to her on a -subject of real interest, knew enough to smile at flattery; and Raymond -declared that her smile said many things. If I attempted to talk -sensibly with her, she yawned; thereupon I left her, only too glad when -Raymond was there to take my place. - -I was wrong, perhaps, in allowing my wife to do whatever she chose; but -how would it have served me to put restraint upon her, to restrict her -in the gratification of her tastes? It would have made us both unhappy. -We married without love, and we were not made to live together. My wife -was bored when alone with me, and I did not enjoy being with her. When I -tried to talk sensibly to her, to urge her to give a little more time to -her housekeeping instead of thinking solely of gewgaws and dress and -pleasure, then Plagie would weep and say that her aunt was justified in -calling me a tyrant! What reply could I make to that?--none at all! I -cannot bear to see a woman weep. If I had no love for my wife, I did not -choose that she should have cause to complain of my treatment; so I -allowed her to buy whatever gave her pleasure, and to go to all the -balls and festivities to which she was invited. Plagie spent on -dresses, jewels, cabs, and trifles much more than she brought me; but I -held my tongue, to avoid little _discussions_. I was determined to do my -best to keep the peace, at all events. - -Perhaps I should not have left her so often to listen to the whispering -of dandies and the soft speeches of salon seducers; but, in truth, it -was impossible for me to be jealous. Moreover, my mind was at ease on -that score; Plagie had been brought up very strictly; she was -high-principled, and her manners were so modest and bashful! To be sure, -she no longer kept her eyes on the floor, and even played the coquette a -bit; but I was none the less confident of her fidelity. And then, too, -the young men who paid court to her in society never came to my house; I -seldom had any male guest except Raymond; and faith! if a man must -torment himself in anticipation, his mind would never be at rest. - -I hoped to have children; I would have loved them dearly; I would have -looked after their education, and it would have been a great joy to me. -But I had not had that satisfaction, and the greatest pleasure I knew -was to go to my little apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. There I seemed -to be a different man; I fancied myself still a bachelor. In that house -nobody knew that I was married; but I never slept there, and my -concierge must have thought that I was leading a strange life; I paid -her generously, however, and she indulged in no comments. Indeed, who in -the house had any reason to complain of me? I took nobody there, I made -no noise, I spoke to nobody, and I did not even know who occupied -Raymond's apartment on my landing. - -For some time past, my wife had been going more frequently than ever to -balls and parties which lasted far into the night. I am no foe to -gayeties, but I was afraid that her excessive indulgence in them would -injure her health. I reproved her mildly, and she answered sharply; a -dispute arose, and madame, who had taken a tone which was entirely new -to her, and which surprised me in a woman who had always seemed so -timid,--in the modest Plagie,--put an end to the discussion by -announcing that she proposed to have a separate room, so that she might -be more at liberty. - -I asked nothing better. I had a bed put in the room adjoining my study, -which was separated from my wife's bedroom by the salon, the reception -room, and a small music room. I took possession of my new quarters that -same evening. Raymond, being informed of the new arrangement, said that -it was an excellent idea, and that it was all that we needed to make a -most charming household. - -Plagie spent money freely; with the purpose of trying to put a curb on -the follies she was beginning to commit, I began to go into society -with her. It would still have been easy for me to form intrigues, to -make conquests; for a young husband is as warmly greeted in Paris as a -bachelor in the provinces; but I had no inclination for those liaisons -of a moment, for those amourettes which do not touch the heart; I was -faithful, but not amorous. - -Raymond, too, was most constant in his pretended great friendship for -us; often he was obliging enough to bring my wife home when I did not -care to stay so late as she did; and as we no longer slept together, -Madame Dorsan could come in whenever she pleased, and I know nothing -about it. I ceased to say anything to her, for I noticed that she -consistently did just the opposite of what I urged her to do. - -Still, I was afraid that her lungs, which were delicate, would suffer -from such constant late hours. The next time that she was to go to a -ball, I advised her to stay at home; she would not listen to me. I -decided to go with her and to try to induce her to go home early. - -Raymond accompanied us to the festivity in question, which was very -gorgeous and very largely attended. At midnight, satiated with dust and -cart, I urged my wife to retire. - -"What, monsieur!" replied Plagie; "go away at the very pleasantest part -of the evening! Oh! I propose to stay till the end! You can go home to -bed; Monsieur Raymond will bring me home." - -What was one to say to a little woman who seemed so determined? I went -up to Raymond, who anticipated my wishes. - -"My dear fellow, go home if you're tired; I'll bring madame home." - -"Will you? very good; I shall be much obliged." - -I left the house, saying to myself: - -"It's a great mistake to laugh at us poor husbands; for, upon my word, -anyone else in our place would do just as we do." - -I went home and to bed. I slept about three hours; then something, I -know not what, awoke me; doubtless it was written that I should wake. I -pressed the repeater of my watch: three o'clock. I thought that I would -like to know if my wife was at home; ordinarily, I did not disturb -myself about it, but she had a cold which made me anxious about her -health; if she was not more careful of herself, it might become serious; -and, although I did not love her, although she did not make me very -happy, as I was more prudent than she, it was my duty to look after her -health. - -That idea prevented me from going to sleep again; it seemed to me that I -should be more at ease if I were sure that she had come home. Why should -I not go to her room to make sure? I had never done such a thing since -we had slept apart; but my solicitude ought not to offend her; and -besides, I could go there without waking her, and she would not even -know that I had been to see her. I had a duplicate key to her bedroom, -which I had had made when we slept together, so that I could go in -without rousing her; for, in the early days of our marriage, she used to -go to bed before I came home, and always locked herself in because she -was afraid. I had forgotten to give her that key, which lay in my desk; -and she had probably forgotten that I had it. - -I rose and felt my way to the desk, for I kept no light in my room at -night. I found the key, and stole softly from my room to go to my wife. - -I walked noiselessly through the intervening rooms, I was careful not to -make a sound; one would have thought that I was on my way to an -assignation, but it was something very different. When I reached my -wife's door I saw a light through the keyhole.--"Good!" I said to -myself; "she's at home;" and I was about to creep away, when I fancied -that I heard voices. With whom could she be talking? The servants were -always in bed when we came home, as we had our own keys. I listened; I -could not hear very distinctly; but it seemed to me that that -voice--"Parbleu!" I thought; "that would be a strange thing!" A thousand -ideas crowded into my mind. I slipped the key in the lock very softly, -turned it quickly, entered the room, and--saw Raymond in bed with my -wife! - -Surprise held me motionless for an instant. Raymond jumped out of bed -and ran about the room like a madman; he could not find the door, -although there were two. I came to myself and could not resist the -temptation to give him a kick that sent him to the floor. But I soon -regretted my imprudence. To make an uproar--a scandal--to let the whole -household know that I was--I lacked only that!--I put Raymond on his -feet, pushed him out of the room, threw his coat in his face, and even -gave him a light, so that he might not break his neck on the stairs; it -was impossible to be more polite than I was. - -"Until to-morrow!" I said. - -I imagined that he did not hear me; but, no matter; he had gone, and I -returned to my wife. - -She had remained in bed; she did not stir. - -"As you may imagine," I said to her, "I do not propose to publish this -abroad; however, madame, I am not in the humor to continue to live with -you; I may be willing to conceal your misconduct, but I do not choose to -witness any more of it. Henceforth we will live apart, as divorces are -no longer granted, and as we must remain united all our lives by the -laws when we have ceased to be united by any sentiment. It is probable -that the blame will be laid on me; people will say that I have deserted -you after making you unhappy, for so they often judge the acts of -others; but it matters little to me; I leave you everything here; you -have your property, and I have mine; henceforth let there be nothing in -common between us." - -Plagie did not say a single word in reply; indeed, I am inclined to -think that she fell asleep during my speech. I took a candle, closed her -door, and returned to my own room. I intended to go to bed again; but I -felt that I should not be able to sleep. No matter if a man be not in -love or jealous, he cannot see such things as that and remain cool. -Still, I was well content with the coolness I had displayed; except for -the kick administered to Raymond, I had borne myself like a genuine -philosopher; but I felt in the bottom of my heart that one is never a -philosopher in respect to those things which concern self-esteem and -honor. Honor! Ah! Figaro is right when he asks: - -"Where in the devil has honor hidden itself?" - -I decided to pack up my belongings; that would keep me busy, and I -should be able to carry everything away at daybreak, and to leave -forever that woman, to whom I had been married about eighteen months, -and who had already made of me a--but one does not care to speak that -word concerning one's self, although ready enough to apply it to -others. - -This, then, is the result of that happy marriage!--Ah! my dear sister, -why did I hearken to you? Why did I marry a woman who did not love me--a -woman who was not suited to me in any one respect! If we had been happy -together, if I had enjoyed being with her, if I had not left her so much -to her own resources, perhaps it would not have happened! - -So that young innocent, that Agns, that little simpleton, had betrayed -me after only eighteen months! Perhaps it had been going on a long while -already; and once more it was Raymond who---- But, in truth, I should -have foreseen it; it was certain to happen. - -"But," I said to myself, "this will be your last escapade, Monsieur -Raymond; to-morrow I will call upon you with a pair of pistols, which I -will load myself." - -The day was beginning to break; I went down into the street, ordered a -messenger to go to my room with me, gave him all my goods and chattels -to carry, and bade adieu to my home. Thenceforth I would resume my -bachelor life. - -I had my bundles carried to my old apartment. Ah! how rejoiced I was -that I had kept it! It was as if I had divined that I should return to -it some day. Madame Dupont stared at my bundles. - -"Does this mean that monsieur is going to sleep in his room now?" she -asked slyly. - -"Yes, Madame Dupont; after this I am going to live as I used to." - -That business completed, I took my weapons and went to Raymond's -apartment. - -"Where are you going, monsieur?" inquired the concierge, when she saw me -hurrying upstairs. - -"To Monsieur Raymond's." - -"Why, monsieur, didn't you know that he'd gone away?" - -"What's that? gone away?" - -"To be sure; he didn't sleep here; he took his things away during the -night, paid his quarter's rent, and told me to sell his furniture, -saying that he'd send someone for the money after a while. I don't know -what had happened to him, but he seemed so confused that at first I -thought he'd gone mad; he was in such a hurry that he didn't take time -to pack the most necessary things. And then he rushed off without -telling me where he was going." - -"The coward! Woe to him if I ever meet him! But he is quite capable of -having left Paris!" - -I left Raymond's concierge in open-mouthed amazement and returned to Rue -Saint-Florentin, to arrange my little apartment with a view to resuming -my former habits. - - - - -XXXV - -MY NEIGHBOR - - -After a few days I recovered my tranquillity; even my spirits, which I -had lost, seemed to return with me to my old lodgings; sometimes I -fancied that I was still a bachelor; in truth, the best thing for me to -do, now that I had no wife, was to forget that I was married. - -As I had foreseen, I was the one at whom the stones were thrown; I -received a letter from my sister, who informed me that it was a -frightful thing to have deserted my wife; that we simply must be -reconciled; that Madame de Pontchartrain was furious, and that Plagie -was constantly asking her for money. In reply, I wrote my sister an -exact account of what had happened, begging her to keep it secret. I -knew that she would not, but I did not care if the good people of Melun -knew that I was a cuckold; I had no desire to go back there. - -In my old lodgings I resumed my former mode of life, save for its -follies, in which I no longer indulged; indeed, it was necessary for me -to lead an orderly, economical life; for my dear wife was running -through her fortune very rapidly, and I foresaw that she would soon have -recourse to me, and that I should be obliged to make her an allowance. - -I congratulated myself on the perfect tranquillity that I enjoyed in my -house; I realized that Raymond was no longer my neighbor. I should have -been glad to find him, however; but I searched Paris for him in vain; he -must have left the city. - -Apropos of neighbors, I began to wonder who lived on my landing. I had -never seen anybody go in or out; it was clearly some person of very -sedentary habits. I was not curious; still, one likes to know who lives -so near one. Madame Dupont would tell me. - -My concierge continued to do my housework; when she came one morning as -usual, she was delighted to find me inclined to converse a little. - -"I believe you told me, Madame Dupont, that the rooms Monsieur Raymond -used to occupy are let?" - -"Certainly they are, monsieur; they weren't vacant a week; somebody -hired 'em right away." - -"I never happen to see a living soul go in or out; I never hear a -sound." - -"Oh! the tenant's a very quiet party, never goes out, never has any -callers; it's all right, but I don't believe she has a very exciting -time." - -"It's a woman, is it?" - -"Yes, monsieur--and as to respectability and morals--oh! there's nothing -to be said." - -"Is she an old woman?" - -"Not by any means, monsieur; she's a young woman--very young." - -"Oho! and pretty?" - -"Yes, very pretty--as well as I can see under the big bonnet she always -wears." - -"What! a young and pretty woman living all alone? no lovers, no -husband?" - -"No one, I tell you! Oh! if anyone came, I should know it." - -"But she must go out sometimes?" - -"In the morning, very early, to buy what she needs; you're still asleep, -that's why you don't meet her. After that, she never stirs from her -room." - -"It's very strange!" - -"I've tried to talk with her now and then; but she won't talk; it's -impossible to get two words out of her. However, as she behaves decently -and pays on the dot, there's nothing to be said. But it seems to me that -people ought to be obliged to let you know who they are." - -I could not help smiling at my concierge's reflection. What she had told -me of my neighbor aroused my curiosity a little, and at first I felt a -desire to know her; but why should I annoy the young woman? she did not -like society; perhaps she had her reasons for avoiding it. I determined -to respect her retirement. - -I had ceased to go into society; I should have run the risk of meeting -my wife or of being beset with disagreeable questions concerning the -cause of our separation; in society, people are so indiscreet that they -always ask, from preference, the most unpleasant questions, and I did -not choose to afford them that pleasure. - -I went to the play, to all the places where one is free from restraint. -Sometimes I caught a glimpse of my wife in a carriage, or in a box at -the theatre with two or three young men; it seemed that she had not -regretted Raymond very deeply, and I was not surprised; she was not so -constituted as to regret anyone. When I saw her in the distance, I -hastened away in the opposite direction; and she did the same; that was -the only thing in which we agreed. - -I prayed that she might not have children now! I should have to be their -father, willy-nilly. How delightful it would be to be presented with a -little family that I must support! - -"You should have gone back to your wife," someone will say; "then you -could have believed that you were the father of your children." - -Thanks; I preferred to live in peace and receive such gifts as my wife -chose to send me. - -I had been a bachelor three months; that time had passed very rapidly, -for ennui never found its way into my little apartment. I had resumed my -books and my music;--music! so soothing to the heart, and so sympathetic -with our joys and our sorrows! Every evening I sat down at my piano and -passed two or three hours there; it seemed to me that Nicette was with -me, that she was listening to me; I dreamed that she still loved me, -that she had never loved anyone else, and I was happy while cajoling -myself thus with chimeras; men are great children who cajole themselves -all their lives. - -Sometimes I forgot the hour; the quiet of the night inclines the heart -to feed on illusions, and I abandoned myself to those illusions that -fascinated me. No one in the house had complained because I played so -late; there was no one above me but maid-servants, whom it did not keep -from sleeping; below was an old annuitant, slightly deaf; so that there -was nobody except my neighbor on the same landing who might be annoyed -by it; but I had asked the concierge if she had said anything about it, -and she said _no_. That woman was absolutely invisible; several times I -had fancied that I heard her door open, and had gone out quickly; for I -confess that I was curious to see her--but her door was already closed. - -She might have passed me again and again, and I should not have noticed -her; but nothing arouses curiosity so keenly as an air of mystery. I -determined to rise very early some morning and try to see her. I made -that resolve at night, but I fell asleep and forgot it. I was not the -man to do sentry duty on the landing, or to stare through the keyhole -ten or fifteen minutes; I left such methods to Raymond. - -I heard nothing more from Melun, and for some time past I had not seen -my wife; she left me in peace. I heard sometimes, from one of those -officious friends whom one meets in spite of one's self, try as one may -to avoid them, that Madame Dorsan was no more prudent in her conduct, -that she had the same mania for balls and dissipation, that her coquetry -increased every day, and a thousand other bits of news no less -agreeable. There were some who advised me to exert my rights and to -apply for an order to have her confined. I thanked them and turned on my -heel; I would swear that the very same people told Plagie that I was a -tyrant, a bear, a wretch unworthy to be the husband of so pretty and -interesting a woman, and that I ought to be put under guardianship. - -In order to avoid meeting my wife, I frequently went into the country, -not in the direction which fashion has made its own, but to those places -where the worthy bourgeois and little grisettes go to amuse themselves; -the little grisettes whom I used to follow! But I had grown wiser; -marriage had _matured_ my head considerably; I might say, had -_embellished_ it. - -On a certain day I felt more content than usual with the world; I went -out on horseback and rode farther than I was accustomed to do. Darkness -overtook me at Vincennes; I urged my horse to a gallop, and returned to -Paris in time to avoid a storm that reminded me of the evening at -Montmorency. - -After taking my horse to the stable, I returned home; I felt tired and -needed rest. I could hardly drag myself up the stairs. I was about to -open the door--but what was it that my hand touched? Could it be? I -dared not believe it, and yet I held the bouquet in my hand. I put it to -my nose, I inhaled its perfume with intoxicating joy. Yes, it was really -a bouquet--in the same place where she used to put them. Ah! it surely -was she who brought that one! who else could have made me that present? -I hurried into the room; I could hardly wait to examine it. When I was -inside and had struck a light, I gazed at that lovely bouquet and kissed -it; it was of orange blossoms, the exact counterpart of those she used -to bring me. Ah! it was she, of course, who sent it to me! But, in that -case, she was in Paris! she still thought of me! she still loved me! - -All these ideas chased one another through my brain; I looked to see if -there was a note in the bouquet--nothing! I went to the door, I looked -in the keyhole and on the floor--nothing! I had only the bouquet; but -that was much! She must have been there; I flew downstairs to question -Madame Dupont. I forgot my fatigue. - -"Has anyone been here to see me?" I asked the concierge. - -"No, monsieur." - -"What! no one has been to ask for me?--a young lady?" - -"I give you my word, monsieur, that I haven't seen anybody who asked for -you, and I haven't been away from my door." - -"Oh! you never see anything! you never used to see her before!" - -"Who, monsieur?" - -"Someone came, all the same, for I found this bouquet on my doorknob." - -"Well, well! that's very funny; somebody must have made a mistake in the -door." - -"Mistake! no, there's no mistake; it was she who came." - -"She! who's she?" - -"Raise the latch, Madame Dupont." - -"What, monsieur! are you going out again now? Wait till the storm has -passed; it's raining bucketsful." - -"Open the door, I tell you!" - -The concierge dared not make any further suggestions. I went out; I had -no idea where I was going, but I was absolutely determined to find out -something about Nicette, to learn where she was. I hurried along the -street, looking all about me--no one! It was a terrible storm. I went -to Rue Saint-Honor, to her former shop; it seemed to me that I might -learn something by going to the place where she used to live; but the -shop was closed, tightly closed. I knocked--there was no reply. I -entered the caf opposite and asked the waiters if the former flower -girl had returned to her shop. They stared at me, having no very clear -idea what I was saying; I was so excited, and my rain-soaked clothes and -muddy boots gave me such a wild aspect, that they took me for a lunatic, -I doubt not. I left the caf without obtaining any information. Where -should I go next? I was still determined to find her.--Ah! perhaps where -her mother used to live. It was a terribly long way, but I ran there -without stopping. It was quite late; I could find nothing open but a -grocery in the neighborhood of Mre Jrme's house. I went in and -inquired; there I was at least more courteously treated than at the -caf, because the grocer was more accustomed to see drenched and muddy -people. But I learned nothing; since Madame Jrme's death her daughters -had not been seen in the quarter. So I must needs renounce all hope of -learning what had become of her! But, no; I would hope on; she had sent -me a bouquet, and perhaps she would return. - -I went home sadly enough. I felt completely exhausted; my clothes were -stuck to my body; I could hardly walk, but I looked in vain for a cab; -it rained in torrents, and I did not meet a single one. I reached home -at last. Madame Dupont was waiting for me; the poor woman was terrified -when she saw the state I was in; she insisted on going upstairs to warm -my bed, on my taking something hot; but I refused her attentions; I -hoped that rest would restore me. When I entered my room, my teeth -chattered violently and my legs trembled under me. I felt far from well; -I crept into bed with Nicette's bouquet on my heart; it seemed to me -that that must cure me. - -The next morning my concierge found me wildly delirious; I recognized -nobody; my head was on fire, my mouth was parched; I was consumed by a -burning fever. Fatigue, the storm, the mental agitation of the preceding -night, had all combined to make me seriously ill. In a few days I was at -the door of the tomb. - -Who was there to take care of me? who would nurse me? My relations were -not in Paris. I had a wife, but she, instead of coming to my bedside, -would have fled from me for fear of contagion; strangers had to take the -place of kindred and friends. - -For nine days I had no idea who was nursing me; I neither heard nor saw -anything. Not until the end of that time was the crisis safely passed; I -was saved, my delirium disappeared; all that I needed was good care, -quiet, and rest. - -I half opened my eyes and looked about me with difficulty, trying to -collect my thoughts. I saw Madame Dupont by my side. - -"Have I been delirious long?" I asked. - -"Nine days, monsieur; oh! you've been very sick; you almost died! But, -thank heaven! you're saved; all you need now is patience and plenty of -rest. I was sure you'd be sick. The idea of going out in such a storm! -and all in a sweat, too! And when you came back, why, your eyes were -starting out of your head! But young men will never listen to advice! -And then, think of going to sleep with a nosegay under your nose! that's -very bad--very unhealthy!" - -"What has been done with that bouquet?" - -"It's in the other room there; never fear, you'll find it all right." - -"Who has nursed me since I have been sick?" - -"I have, and--your neighbor." - -"My neighbor!" - -"Yes, the lady on your landing. Oh! she has taken the best possible care -of you. As soon as she heard you was sick, she insisted on being your -nurse, and, my word! if she'd been nursing sick folks all her life, she -couldn't have done better." - -"Where is she? I would like to thank her." - -"Oh! you can thank her later. She's just gone to her room. But here you -are talking, and the doctor told us we mustn't let you talk! Go to -sleep, monsieur, go to sleep; it'll do you good." - -Madame Dupont closed my curtains and refused to answer any more -questions. I was at a loss to understand the unknown lady's conduct; but -I was not strong enough to reflect long; I fell asleep wishing that I -might see her. Toward evening I woke. Someone was beside me. When I -moved, the person attempted to hurry away; but it was too late; my eyes -had met hers, I had recognized her: it was Nicette. - -I cried out, and she returned to me. - -"Oh! in heaven's name, speak to me!" I said; "so that I may be sure that -it is you!" - -"Yes, yes, it's I, it's your Nicette. Oh! Monsieur Dorsan, pray don't -talk any more; the doctor has strictly forbidden it. That's the reason I -didn't want you to see me." - -"Dear Nicette! as if the sight of you was not more powerful than all -their medicines! It is you! it is really you!" - -I took her hands and pressed them and held them to my heart; I no longer -had strength to speak. She tried to calm me, but she was as deeply moved -as I was; the tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped on me; but how -sweet they were to us both! - -"So it was you, Nicette, who nursed me during my illness?" - -"Wasn't it my duty? Could I have trusted others to do it?" - -"Then you were my neighbor?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Cruel girl! you concealed yourself from me!" - -"I thought that the sight of me would not give you any pleasure." - -"You did not think that!" - -"You are married." - -"But you see that I have ceased to live with my wife." - -"I didn't dare show myself to you, for fear that would make you leave -your lodgings." - -"What an idea! O Nicette!" - -"But I couldn't resist the longing to remind you of me; and that is why -you found the bouquet." - -"Ah! it is to it that I am indebted for finding you. Nicette, don't -leave me again, I implore you!" - -"Oh, no! I won't leave you again, monsieur, as you allow me to stay. -But, I beg of you, be calm, don't talk any more, and take a little -rest." - -I yielded to her entreaties; in truth, I did need to pull myself -together. Nicette was with me, it was to her nursing that I owed my -life! I had difficulty in realizing my happiness. Ah! how blissfully -happy I was! and yet, some regret was mingled with my joy, when I -thought that Raymond---- But if that were not true, I should be too -happy. - -Every day my convalescence advanced a step; but I was not content unless -Nicette was by my side; so she never left me. She seemed surprised by -the feeling that I manifested for her; I saw in her eyes all the -intoxicating joy that it caused her. It was plain, therefore, that she -still loved me. Often I flattered myself that it was so, and then I -abandoned myself to the affection that she aroused in me, I basked -blissfully in the fire of her glances, I laid my head on her breast and -inhaled her sweet breath. But when the image of Raymond appeared before -me, all my happiness vanished, my heart swelled, and I moved away from -Nicette. - -She noticed these abrupt transitions from joy to gloom, these sudden -changes in my manner toward her. - -"Are you thinking of your wife?" she asked me one day, when I had moved -away from her and sighed. - -"No," I said, gazing at her in distress; "I am thinking of Raymond." - -"Of Monsieur Raymond; and that makes you sigh?" - -"Can you wonder at it? Did he not rob me of the greatest of blessings?" - -"What do you mean? I don't understand you." - -"Ah! Nicette, you loved him, and yet you say that you don't understand -me!" - -"I--love him! Great God! who told you that?" - -"I saw it; I know that he was your lover." - -"My lover! O heaven! then I am a most despicable creature in your eyes! -And you believed that!" - -Tears suffocated her; she could say no more. I ran to her, threw my arms -about her, and covered her with kisses; the mere suspicion that Raymond -had lied to me was perfect bliss. - -"Nicette, dear Nicette, tell me how it all happened? I saw him in your -shop; he held your hands--and you admitted it yourself." - -"Ah! could you believe that I loved anybody but you? I, who would give -my life for you--who have never given a thought to anybody else since I -first saw you! Oh! forgive me for loving you so much; perhaps it offends -you, but I must tell you now the whole secret of my heart. When I lived -in my shop, the only joy I had was to see you; every day I expected or -hoped to see you pass; but it happened very seldom. I used to bring you -bouquets as a pledge of my gratitude, and I would seize a moment when -the concierge was out to run up and tie them on your door. Sometimes I -saw you go by with a lady on your arm. Then I used to cry, for I would -say to myself: 'I shall never walk like that with him'--When I went a -long while without seeing you, I used to long to know something about -you, but I didn't dare go to your house to inquire. One day Monsieur -Raymond stopped to buy some flowers of me; he looked at me very hard, -recognized me, I suppose, and came again the next day. While he was -looking at my flowers, he paid me compliments, but I didn't listen to -him. Then he mentioned you, and I was very glad to listen to him. He -noticed that, for every time he came he talked about you, and I always -urged him to stay. He was the only person from whom I heard anything -about you; what he said made me sad, and yet I wanted to hear it. He -told me that you had twenty mistresses, that you loved all the women, -and that you had made fun of me; then he showed me the bouquets I had -carried to you, which he said you had given to him." - -"The miserable cur! And you believed him, Nicette?" - -"Alas! when I saw you come to buy flowers with that lady who--who called -you her dear friend and looked at me with such a sneering expression, I -thought he had told me the truth. That made me so unhappy that I -couldn't stay at home; I went out and walked about the streets most of -the night, hardly knowing what I did. It was while I was out that you -came. The next morning, when you came again, you seemed to be very -angry, and you left me very suddenly, you know; I wanted to call you -back, but I didn't dare. That evening Monsieur Raymond came; he talked -about you; I cried, and he tried to comfort me; he may have taken my -hands in his, but if he did I didn't feel it; I was thinking only of -you. He came again the next night, and then he wanted to talk about -himself: he said that he adored me, and a lot of other things; but he -said nothing more about you, and I wouldn't listen to him. I didn't let -him in again; he wrote me a long love letter, calling me cruel and -wicked. I have kept it to show you. At last he let me alone. I never saw -you after that. I came to this house and learned that you had gone away, -but had kept your apartment; that made me hope you would return. But one -day Monsieur Raymond passed my shop, and, being delighted to make me -unhappy, told me you were married. Alas! I should have expected it; I -knew that there must be many other women who loved you; and yet, I -became so miserable that I didn't have the courage to keep my shop; -besides, I was rich enough to get along without it. I came to this house -and found that the other apartment on your landing was empty, so I hired -it on the spot. That brought me nearer to these rooms where I passed -that night which changed the whole course of my life. But when you came -back here to live, I didn't dare to let you see me, because I was afraid -that the sight of me would not be pleasant to you.--That is the truth; -do you believe now that I have loved any man but you?" - -When she had finished her story, Nicette went for Raymond's letter and -brought it to me. I no longer needed it to induce me to believe her; but -that final proof thoroughly convinced me that I had been deceived by -appearances and by Raymond's lies. - -Ah! how delicious was that moment when I found that Nicette was worthy -of all my love! I hastened to tell her, in my turn, all that had -happened to me, all that I had felt when I believed that she was -Raymond's mistress. She wept with joy and love as she listened; she -gazed into my face, took my hands, and held them to her heart. - -"So you did love me," she said, "and you love me still! Ah! how happy I -am!" - -The story of my marriage and of Plagie's conduct caused her the -greatest surprise; she could not conceive how my wife could fail to love -me. Dear Nicette! But for that miserable Raymond, I should still have -been free! but the ties which bound me to Plagie were broken by nature, -if not by man. - -"What!" she said; "are you not going back to your wife?" - -"Never. That resolution was irrevocable before I found you; it can bring -no blame upon you." - -"And you really want me to stay with you?" - -"Do I want you to! Could I live without you now?" - -"Oh! how happy I am going to be, monsieur!" - -"Dear Nicette! no more _monsieur_, no more formal address! I am your -friend, your lover, and you are the whole world to me! Call me Eugne, -your Eugne!" - -The evening passed away in this blissful conversation. - -"I must go to my room now," said Nicette; "it is time to go to sleep, -and you need it." - -"Oh! happiness has restored my health. But you are my nurse, and you -must not leave me." - -She blushed and looked at me; but she had not the strength to deny me -anything. - -"Dear Eugne," she said, "I am yours. This is surely the place where I -owe the reward of your love." - -Oh! unalloyed ecstasy of true love, I had never known you before! Never -until that day did I really exist! - - - - -XXXVI - -GREAT EVENTS.--CONCLUSION - - -A new dawn had risen for me; beside Nicette time fairly flew, and love -alone remained. It seemed to me that I loved her more dearly every day. -Sometimes the poor child feared that her happiness was only a dream. How -keen our pleasures were! how sweet our intercourse! Nicette was no -longer the poor flower girl whom I had known long before. Since she had -known me, she had striven incessantly to leave behind her every trace of -manners and mode of speech that might be unpleasant to me; she had -struggled to acquire the indispensable knowledge that she lacked. During -all the time that she had lived alone on my landing, she had devoted to -study every instant that was not given to thoughts of me. The result was -that she talked easily and expressed herself with facility; her manners -were refined, her appearance simple, but modest; she did not hold -herself perfectly stiff, or keep her eyes cast down, or assume the -prudish airs which distinguished Plagie--before she was my wife; but -her demeanor was respectable, her glance sweet and expressive; her whole -aspect was most attractive; and her heart--ah! her heart was a treasure! - -Six months had passed like a day since I had found Nicette; our -happiness would have been perfect but for her occasional fits of -melancholy, the cause of which I divined. - -"You are married," she often said to me; "perhaps it is very wrong of me -to live with you. Suppose that you should despise me some day." - -"Dear Nicette! drive away these thoughts, which my heart repels. Let the -world think and say what it will! If it blames me, it is wrong. In good -faith, which of the two deserves to be despised, the wife who deceives -her husband, or the mistress who is true to her lover?" - -But one morning, while we were breakfasting, there came a violent ring -at my door. Nicette answered the bell and returned, followed by a woman -whom I recognized: it was Justine, Plagie's maid. - -My blood froze in my veins. Why had she come? - -"Monsieur," said Justine, "madame your wife is very sick; when she came -home from a ball three days ago, she began to vomit blood; they think -she can't get well, and she wants to see you." - -Nicette turned pale; I saw her stagger, but she ran to fetch my hat. - -"Go, my dear," she said; "go at once; your wife is waiting for you. If -necessary, stay with her, don't come back! But try to save her life." - -I hurried after Justine and returned to that house which I had thought -that I should never enter again. How everything was changed! What -confusion everywhere! I found my way at last to my wife's apartment and -approached her bed; I could hardly recognize her. Was this that Plagie -who used to be so fresh and pretty?--I forgot her faults, and I was -conscious of no feeling for her but pity. - -She held out her hand. - -"I wanted to see you before I died," she said, in a faint voice. -"Eugne, forgive my wrongdoing. I am punished for it, as you see. If I -had listened to you, I should not be standing now on the edge of the -grave." - -I tried to comfort her, to revive hope in her heart; but I could not; -she knew too well that the mainspring of life was broken. - -I took my place by her side. The day passed without bringing any change -in her condition, but the night was terrible; and about five in the -morning, Plagie ceased to live. - -I shed tears over the remains of a woman whose life was so brief and -whose happiness was so deceptive. - -Having completed the business to which this sad event required me to -attend, and having paid my wife's debts, I returned to Nicette. - -"Well?" she said; "your wife?" - -"She is no more!" - -"Oh! my dear, let us weep over her fate! she might have been so happy if -she had loved you!" - -To divert my thoughts from that occurrence, I formed the plan of taking -a journey with Nicette. That would complete her training; the sight of -Switzerland and Italy is always profitable to those who can think and -remember. - -Nicette was ready to go with me; wherever she could be with me, she was -perfectly happy; it mattered little to her under what sky or in what -climate we were to pass our lives. To her I was the world, pleasure, -happiness. Ah! Nicette! love me so always! If you should ever be false -to me, then I should know that no one on earth is worthy of love or -faith. - -We started in a berlin which I had bought, so that we were free to halt -wherever some monument should arouse our admiration, or some fact of -history our interest; that is the only agreeable and profitable way to -travel. - -We made the tour of Switzerland. I was anxious to show Nicette the -splendors of Mont Cenis, and we stopped at an inn near the foot of the -mountain. I observed that there was a great commotion in the house. I -ordered a room, and the maid who showed us the way to it kept uttering -exclamations. - -"What has happened here, in heaven's name?" I asked her; "you all seem -much excited. You have guests here, I suppose?" - -"Yes, monsieur, a party of foreigners arrived this morning, to climb the -mountain; there are Englishmen and Frenchmen and Russians, a whole party -of sightseers, in fact. But that isn't what distresses us so. You see, -monsieur, this morning before breakfast all these gentlemen were -together, and they began to talk about tables d'hte. One man said that -he liked them because he ate very fast; another declared that he was a -better eater than any of the rest, and that he'd eat six eggs before -breakfast and, even then, eat faster than anyone; they laughed at him, -so he bet ten louis, and an Englishman took the bet. The poor man -ordered hard-boiled eggs; he ate them, and then began his breakfast; oh! -he went at it in fine style, I tell you! and so he won his ten louis. -But just after, he turned yellow, red, and blue; they had to put him to -bed, and instead of climbing the mountain he's likely to die on our -hands." - -"It's an Englishman, of course, who undertook that pretty trick?" - -"No, monsieur; a Frenchman." - -"A Frenchman!" - -"If you want to see him, everybody's standing round his bed; everyone -has some remedy to save his life." - -I was curious to see the fellow. I left Nicette and bade the girl show -me to the dying man's room. As I entered, he breathed his last, as a -result of his wager. I glanced at his face, and recognized my neighbor -Raymond. - - * * * * * - - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - -interrupting her converversation=> interrupting her conversation {pg 78} - -which I was detemined=> which I was determined {pg 198} - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - -even though one act wretchedly=> even though one acts wretchedly {pg -287} - - * * * * * - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of My Neighbor Raymond (Novels of Paul de -Kock Volume XI), by Charles Paul de Kock - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND *** - -***** This file should be named 41083-8.txt or 41083-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/0/8/41083/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/41083-8.zip b/41083-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9136b74..0000000 --- a/41083-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/41083-h.zip b/41083-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 44a0294..0000000 --- a/41083-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/41083-8.txt b/old/41083-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 42fc3e2..0000000 --- a/old/41083-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14718 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Neighbor Raymond (Novels of Paul de Kock -Volume XI), by Charles Paul de Kock - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: My Neighbor Raymond (Novels of Paul de Kock Volume XI) - -Author: Charles Paul de Kock - -Release Date: October 17, 2012 [EBook #41083] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - -[Illustration: Copyright 1903 by G. Barrie & Sons] - -RAYMOND SURPRISES DORSAN AND NICETTE - -_I was determined that he should not, at all events, have time to -scrutinize the girl; I fumbled hastily in my pocket for my key, but -it was entangled in my handkerchief._ - - - - -NOVELS - -BY - -Paul de Kock - -VOLUME XI - -MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND - -PRINTED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH - -[Illustration] - -GEORGE BARRIE'S SONS - -THE JEFFERSON PRESS - -BOSTON NEW YORK - -_Copyrighted, 1903-1904, by G. B. & Sons._ - - - - -MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND - - - - -I - -THE GRISETTE - - -I was strolling along the boulevards one Saturday evening. I was alone, -and in a meditative mood; contrary to my usual custom, I was indulging -in some rather serious reflections on the world and its people, on the -past and the present, on the mind and the body, on the soul, on thought, -chance, fate, and destiny. I believe, indeed, that I was on the point of -turning my attention to the moon, which was just appearing, and in which -I already saw mountains, lakes, and forests,--for with a little -determination one may see in the moon whatever one pleases,--when, as I -was gazing at the sky, I suddenly collided with a person going in the -opposite direction, whom I had not previously noticed. - -"Look where you're going, monsieur; you're very awkward!" at once -remarked a soft, sweet voice, which not even anger deprived of its -charm. I have always had a weakness for pleasant voices; so I instantly -descended from the regions to which I had mounted only for lack of -something better to do, and looked at the person who had addressed me. - -It was a girl of sixteen to eighteen years, with a little cap tied under -her chin, a calico dress, and a modest apron of black mohair. She had -every appearance of a young workgirl who had just finished her day's -work and was on her way home. I made haste to look at her face: a -charming face, on my word! Bright, mischievous eyes, a tiny nose, fine -teeth, black hair, and a most attractive ensemble; an expressive face, -too, and a certain charming grace in her bearing. I was forced to -confess that I saw no such pretty things in the moon. - -The girl had under her arm a pasteboard box, which I had unwittingly -jostled; she refastened the string with which it was tied, and seemed to -apprehend that the contents had suffered from my awkwardness. I lost no -time in apologizing. - -"Really, mademoiselle, I am terribly distressed--it was very awkward of -me." - -"It is certain, monsieur, that if you had looked in front of you this -wouldn't have happened." - -"I trust that I have not hurt you?" - -"Me? oh, no! But I'm afraid that my flowers are crumpled; however, I -will fix them all right at home." - -"Ah!" said I to myself; "she's a flowermaker; as a general rule, the -young ladies who follow that trade are not Lucretias; let us see if I -cannot scrape acquaintance with her." - -She replaced her box under her arm, and went her way. I walked by her -side, saying nothing at first. I have always been rather stupid about -beginning gallant interviews; luckily, when one has once made a start, -the thing goes of itself. However, from time to time I ventured a word -or two: - -"Mademoiselle walks very fast. Won't you take my arm? I should be -delighted to escort you. May I not be permitted to see you again? Do you -go to the theatre often? I could send you tickets, if you chose. Pray -be careful; you will surely slip!" and other polite phrases of that -sort, the conventional thing in nocturnal meetings. - -To all this I obtained no reply save: - -"Yes, monsieur;" "no, monsieur;" "leave me, I beg you!" "you are wasting -your time;" "don't follow me." - -Sometimes she made no reply at all, but tossed her head impatiently, and -crossed to the other side of the boulevard. But I crossed in her wake; -and after a few moments of silence, I risked another remark, giving to -my voice the most tender and sentimental inflection conceivable. - -But I began to realize that my chance acquaintance was shyer than I had -at first supposed, and that I might very well have nothing to show for -my long walk, my little speeches, and my sidelong glances. However, her -resistance augmented my desires; I remembered how foolish I felt one -evening when, thinking that I had fallen in with an innocent maid, my -charmer, when we arrived at her door, invited me to go up to her room; -and I beg my readers to believe that I knew too much to accept. But -appearances are so deceptive in Paris! the shrewdest connoisseurs allow -themselves to be cozened; now, I ought to be a connoisseur, for I have -seen a good deal of the world; and yet, I frequently allow myself to be -taken in. - -I made these reflections as I followed my pretty flower girl. She led me -a devilish long way; we walked the whole length of Boulevards -Montmartre, Poissonnire, Bonne-Nouvelle; we passed all the small -theatres. "She lives in the Marais," I thought; "that is plain." We went -through Rue Chariot, Rue de Bretagne, Vieille Rue du Temple. We went on -and on; luckily, the weather was fine, and I knew that she must stop -sooner or later. Yes, and she would probably shut the door in my face; -but what did I care? After all, I was simply killing time; I had not -known what to do with myself, and I had suddenly found an objective -point for my stroll. To be sure, such an objective point is within the -reach of everyone in Paris; and it is easy to provide one's self with -occupation by following the first saucy face one chances to meet. -Indeed, I know many men who do nothing else, and who neglect their -business to do it. Above all, I notice a large number of government -clerks, who, instead of attending to their duties, are constantly -hunting grisettes, on the pretext of going out to buy lunch; to be sure, -they go out without their hats, and run about the city as if they were -simply making neighborly calls; which is very comforting for the -departments, as they are always sure that their clerks are not lost. - -But it is not my business to censure the conduct of other people; -indeed, that would be a most inopportune thing to do, inasmuch as I am -in the very act of setting a bad example; for, a moment ago, I was -meditating upon the instability of human affairs, and now I am giving -chase to a petticoat that covers the most fragile, the weakest, the most -deceitful, but also the most seductive, most alluring, most enchanting -creature that Nature has created! I was losing my head, my imagination -was hard at work, and yet I saw only a foot--a dainty one, 'tis -true--and the beginning of a leg clothed in a modest black woollen -stocking. Ah! if I might only have seen the garter! Faith! all things -considered, it is much better to follow a girl, at the risk of having a -door shut in your face, than to try to read the moon, and to weary one's -brain with metaphysics, astronomy, physiology, and metoposcopy; the -deeper one delves into the vague and the abstract, the less clearly one -discovers the goal and the proof; but, turn your attention to a saucy -face, and you know at once what you wish to accomplish; and in the -company of a pretty woman it is easy to discover the system of nature. - -For several minutes I had said nothing to my young working girl; I was -piqued by her persistent silence; I had even slackened my pace, so that -she might think that I had ceased to follow her. But, although I was -some twenty yards distant, I did not lose sight of her. She stopped, and -so did I. She was speaking to someone; I walked toward them. The someone -was a young man. I bit my lips in vexation; but I tried to distinguish -what they were saying, and I overheard the following dialogue: - -"Good-evening, Mademoiselle Caroline!" - -"Good-evening, Monsieur Jules!" - -"You are going home very late." - -"We have lots of work, especially on Saturday; and then I had a box to -carry to Rue Richelieu; that is what makes me so late." - -"What have you got in this box?" - -"A pretty bunch of roses to wear in my cap to-morrow. I made it myself; -it's very stylish, as you'll see. A clumsy fellow ran into me on the -boulevard, and nearly made me drop it." - -At that, I slunk into the passageway in front of which I had stopped. - -"There are some people who never pay any attention to anything when -they're walking." - -"I fancy this man was a student; he was looking at the sky." - -"Did he ask your pardon?" - -"Oh, yes!--But I must leave you; my aunt's waiting for me, and she'll -give me a scolding." - -"I should be very sorry to be the cause of anything unpleasant happening -to you. We shall see each other to-morrow, shan't we?" - -"Yes, yes; unless my aunt isn't willing that I should dance any more. -She's so cross! Have you got tickets for Tivoli?" - -"Yes, mademoiselle, for four; I will call for you." - -"Early, Monsieur Jules." - -"Oh, never fear! But don't you forget we're to dance the first -contradance together." - -"I never forget such things!" - -"Adieu, Mademoiselle Caroline!" - -"Adieu, Monsieur Jules!" - -Monsieur Jules drew nearer to her, and the girl offered her cheek. I -heard a kiss. Parbleu! it was well worth while going all the way to Rue -des Rosiers to see that! - -The young man walked away, singing; the girl went a few steps farther, -then entered a passageway, of which she closed the door behind her, and -I was left standing in the gutter. - -That Jules was evidently her lover; yes, he had every appearance of a -lover, albeit an honorable one, for I was certain that he kissed nothing -but her cheek; moreover, his conversation did not suggest a seducer. -To-morrow, Sunday, they were going to Tivoli, with the aunt, no doubt, -as he had tickets for four. Well, it was evident that I should have -nothing to show for my walk. It was not the first time, but it was a -pity; for she was pretty, very pretty! I examined the house with care. -One can never tell--chance may serve one at some time. The street was -dark, the moon being behind a cloud, and I could not make out the -number. But that was of no importance, for I could recognize the -passageway, the sharp corner, and the awning. - -"What the devil! Pray be careful what you're doing! You just missed -throwing that on me!" - -An inmate of my charmer's house had opened his window and emptied a -vessel into the street, just as I was trying to distinguish the color of -the wall. Luckily, I escaped with a few splashes; but the incident -abated my curiosity, and I left Rue des Rosiers, wiping my coat tails -with my handkerchief. - - - - -II - -THE PETITE-MATRESSE - - -It was not late when I returned to the boulevard; the performances at -the small theatres were not yet at an end. A dozen ticket speculators -ran to meet me, offering to sell me checks. - -"There's one more act, monsieur," they shouted in my ears; "it's the -best of all; you'll see the duel with a sword and an axe, the fire, and -the ballet. It's a play that draws all Paris. You can go to any part of -the theatre." - -Unable to resist such urgent solicitations, I bought a check which -entitled me to admission to any part of the theatre; but they would only -allow me to go into the pit, or to walk around the corridor. I chose the -latter alternative; as there was but one act to be played, I could see -well enough; and then, the things that happen in the auditorium are -often more amusing than those that happen on the stage. I am rather fond -of examining faces, and there are generally some comical ones in -attendance upon melodramas; the theatres at which that class of play is -given are, as a general rule, frequented by the common people and the -middle class, who do not know what it is to conceal their feelings, and -who consequently abandon themselves unreservedly to all the emotion -aroused by a scene of love or of remorse. - -"Ah! the cur! ah! the blackguard!" exclaimed my nearest neighbor -whenever the tyrant appeared; "he'll get his finish before long." - -I glanced at the speaker; I judged from his hands and his general aspect -that he was a tanner; his eyes were brighter than those of the actor who -played the traitor and against whom he vociferated loudly at every -instant. In front of me, as I stood behind the seats, I noticed a -laundress who sobbed bitterly as she listened to the story of the -princess's misfortunes, and a small boy who crouched under the bench to -avoid seeing the duel. - -"How these good people are enjoying themselves!" I thought; "they are -not surfeited with the theatre; they are absorbed by what is taking -place on the stage; they don't lose a single word, and for the next week -they will think of nothing but what they have seen to-night. I will go -up to the first tier of boxes; there is more style there, but less -enjoyment." - -Through a glass door I caught sight of a most attractive face; I gave -the box opener the requisite amount of money, and entered the box, -determined to do my utmost to make up for the time I had wasted with -Mademoiselle Caroline. - -The lady, who had seemed a charming creature seen through the glass, was -less charming at close range. However, she was not unattractive; she had -style, brilliancy, and dash. She was still young; I saw at once that she -was inclined to flirt, and that the appearance of a young man in her box -would divert her for a moment. - -You will understand, reader, that I was a young man; I believe that I -have not yet told you so. Later, I will tell you who I am, and what -talents, what attractive and estimable qualities, I possess; it will not -take long. - -A gentleman was seated beside the lady in question; he had a commonplace -face, but was fashionably dressed and had distinguished manners. Was he -her husband? I was inclined to think so, for they hardly spoke to each -other. - -I regretted that I had only about half an act to see; with more time, I -might have been able to enter into conversation, to make myself -agreeable, to begin an acquaintance. It seemed to me that I made a -favorable impression; she bestowed divers very soft glances on me; she -was seated so that she could look at me without being seen by her -companion. The ladies are so accustomed to that sort of thing, and so -expert at it! - -"Ah!" I thought; "if ever I marry, I will always sit behind my wife; for -then---- Even so; but if somebody else sits beside her, can I prevent -the feet and knees from doing as they will? It is most embarrassing." - -"This play isn't so bad," said the lady at last, to her neighbor; "the -acting here is not at all amiss." - -"Yes, yes;" nothing but _yes_. Ah! he was surely her husband. I listened -intently, for she was evidently speaking for my benefit. - -"I was horribly bored last night at the Franais; Mars didn't act. -Aren't we going to the Opra to-morrow? There's to be an extra -performance." - -"As you please." - -"After all, it's too hot for enjoyment at the theatre. If there wasn't -always such a medley in the public gardens on Sunday, I would rather go -there than shut myself up in a theatre. What's your idea?" - -"It makes no difference to me." - -The lady made an impatient gesture. The gentleman did not notice it, but -moved nearer the front of the box. I rose to look at the scenery, and my -hand happened to come in contact with the lady's arm, but she did not -move. - -"These theatres are wretchedly ventilated; there's a very unpleasant -odor here," she said, after a moment. - -I thought of my coat tails, which, in truth, smelt anything but sweet. I -could not help smiling, but I instantly offered her a smelling bottle. -She accepted it, and when she returned it did not seem offended because -I pressed the hand with which she presented it to me. - -At that moment the curtain fell. - -"The devil!" I muttered to myself; "what a shame! I came too late. -Mademoiselle Caroline is responsible for it. But what am I saying? If it -had not been for her, I should still be on Boulevard Montmartre, gazing -at the stars; it was because I followed her that I came in here to see -the last act; and by running after a grisette I have fallen in with a -_petite-matresse_ who perhaps is inferior to the grisette! How one -thing leads to another! It was because something was thrown on my coat -that this lady complained of the unpleasant odor, and that I offered her -my smelling bottle and squeezed her hand. After this, who will tell me -that there is no such thing as fate? If I should make this gentleman a -cuckold, it would certainly be the fault of Mademoiselle Caroline, who -refused to listen to me." - -We left the box. I assisted my neighbor to climb over the benches, which -were stationary for the convenience of the public. But the husband took -her arm, and I was obliged to fall behind. - -"Shall I follow, or shall I not follow?"--Such was the question I asked -myself as I descended the staircase. After what had happened to me so -short a time before, I ought to have kept quiet the rest of the evening; -but I was twenty-four years old, I loved the fair sex passionately; -moreover, my last mistress had just proved unfaithful to me,--indeed, it -was that fact which was responsible for my melancholy meditations,--and -a young man who has a strong flavor of sentiment in his makeup cannot -exist without a passion. Unquestionably I was---- - -We were no sooner on the boulevard than they crossed the sidewalk to the -curbstone. - -"Aha!" I said to myself; "they are going to take a carriage; I'll just -listen to what they tell the driver, and in that way I can learn the -address without putting myself to any trouble." - -But it was decreed that I should be disappointed again in my plans. They -walked to a dainty vis--vis and called _Andr_; a footman ran to them, -opened the door, and assisted monsieur and madame to enter. - -My self-esteem received a still sharper prick; a woman who had a -carriage of her own! Here was a conquest that merited the expenditure of -some little time and trouble. I determined to follow madame's -carriage--not on foot; that would be too fatiguing! it might do if she -were in a cab; but with private horses--why, I should have inflammation -of the lungs! I spied a cabriolet, which was just what I wanted. The -other carriage was driving away, so I lost no time. - -"Hi, _cocher_!" - -"Get in, monsieur." - -"I am in." - -"Where are we going, bourgeois?" - -"Follow that carriage just ahead of us, and you shall have a good -_pourboire_." - -The rascal did not need it; I saw that he was already tipsy. I wished -then that I had taken another, but it was too late to change. He lashed -his emaciated horse with all his strength; the infernal beast broke into -a gallop of desperation, and sometimes outstripped the private carriage. - -"Look out!" I said to my driver; "don't whip it so hard; let's not have -an accident." - -"Don't you be afraid, bourgeois, I know my business; you see, I haven't -been driving a cab twenty years without finding out what driving means. -You're with some friends in the green fiacre yonder; very good! I -propose to have you get there ahead of 'em." - -"But I did not tell you that I was with anybody; I want you to follow -that carriage; if you pass it, how can you follow it?" - -"I tell you, bourgeois, that they're a-following us; I'll show 'em that -my horse is worth two of theirs. When Belotte's waked up, there's no -stopping her." - -"Morbleu! you go too fast! We have passed the carriage; where is it -now?" - -"Ah! they're trying to catch up with us; but the coachman's mad. I'm -driving you all right, bourgeois." - -"But stop--stop, I tell you!" - -"Have we got there?" - -"Yes, yes! we've got there." - -"Damme! you see, Belotte's got her second wind, and she's a good one to -go, I tell you. Ho! ho! here you are, master. Where shall I knock?" - -"Nowhere." - -"Ha! ha! not a sign of a fiacre anywhere! Didn't I tell you that you'd -arrive ahead of the others? You see, it's a whim of mine to pass -everything on the road." - -I alighted from the cabriolet and looked all about; no sign of a -carriage; we had lost it. I was frantic; and I had to listen to the -appeals of my drunken driver, who wanted his _pourboire_. I was tempted -to break his whip over his back; but I restrained myself and adopted the -quickest method, which was to pay him and dismiss him. - -"When you want a good driver and a good horse, bourgeois, I'm your man, -you see; you'll always find me on Place Taitbout, near Torchoni's--in -the swell quarter. Ask for Franois; I'm as well known as the clown." - -"All right; I'll remember." - -The villain drove away at last, and I was left alone in a street which -was entirely unfamiliar to me. It was getting late, and, as I had no -desire to pass the night walking the streets, I tried to discover my -whereabouts! After walking some distance I found myself at a spot which -I recognized; I was on Rue des Martyrs, near the Montmartre barrier. -Luckily, I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, and to get there I had simply -to walk down the hill. So I started, reflecting as I walked. It was a -fitting occasion for reflection, and I had plenty of time. But my -reverie was again interrupted by outcries. As the Quartier des -Porcherons is not frequented by the most select society, and as I was -nowise inclined to seek a third adventure at the Grand Salon, I -quickened my pace, in order to avoid unpleasant encounters. - -But the noise continued; I heard cries and oaths and blows. Women were -calling for the police, the magistrate, and all the constituted -authorities of the quarter; men were pushing and striking one another -and throwing one another into the gutter. Windows were thrown open, and -heads appeared enveloped in nightcaps; they listened and laughed and -conversed from window to window, asking what the trouble was; but they -refrained from going down into the street, because it is not prudent to -meddle in a quarrel after dark. - -The open windows and the faces surmounted by nightcaps reminded me of my -little mishap on Rue des Rosiers. I no longer walked, but flew! fancying -that I was pursued by fatality. But I heard someone running behind me; I -turned into a street to the right; the footsteps followed me. At last I -stopped to recover my breath, and in a moment my pursuer overtook me and -grasped my arm. - - - - -III - -THE FLOWER GIRL - - -"O monsieur! save me! take me with you! protect me from that horrible -Beauvisage, who swore he'd take me away from anyone. Just hear how he's -beating Cadet Finemouche, who's a good fighter himself! My sister was no -fool; she skipped as soon as the fists began to play, and left me to -carry the whole thing on my back; and perhaps she'll go and tell my -mother bad stories about me! I haven't anybody but you to help me, -monsieur; if you won't, I'm a lost girl." - -While my waylayer recited her story, pausing only to wipe away the tears -with the back of her hand, I looked at my new acquaintance and tried to -distinguish her features by the dim light of a street lamp. - -Her language and her dress speedily informed me what manner of person I -had to deal with: a loose red gown, caught in at the waist with a black -velvet scarf; a round cap with a broad lace border; a colored -neckerchief, tied in front, with a large cross _ la_ Jeannette resting -upon it. Mistake in this instance was impossible: it was perfectly -evident that I had before me a _marchande ventaire_,[A] or one of -those hucksters whose booths surround the cemetery of the Innocents. - -[A] That is to say, a huckster, or peddler, who goes from place to place -with her wares displayed on a tray hung from her shoulders. - -My first thought was to see if she was pretty; I found that she was very -good-looking indeed. Her eyes, although filled with tears, had a -sincere, innocent expression which made her interesting at first sight; -her little pout, her grieved air, were softened now and then by a smile -addressed to me; and that smile, which the most accomplished coquette -could not have made more attractive, disclosed two rows of the whitest -teeth, unspoiled by enamel, coral, and all the powders of the perfumer. - -However, despite my new acquaintance's beauty, I was very reluctant to -retain her arm, which she had passed through mine. Surely, with such -charming features, she could not deal in fish or meat. I was morally -certain that she sold flowers; but I did not choose to take a flower -girl for my mistress; at the most, I might, if a favorable opportunity -offered, indulge in a whim, a fancy. But I was not in luck that evening, -and I did not propose to try any more experiments. I determined to rid -myself of the girl. - -As gently as possible, I detached the arm that was passed through mine; -then I assumed a cold expression and said: - -"I am very sorry that I am unable to do what you wish; but I do not know -you; the dispute between Monsieur Beauvisage and Cadet Finemouche -doesn't concern me. Your sister ran away, and you had better do the -same. Your mother may think what she pleases, it is all one to me. It is -after twelve o'clock; I have been walking about the streets long enough, -and I am going home to bed." - -"What, monsieur! you refuse! you are going to leave me! Think of -refusing to go a little out of your way to help a poor girl who is in -trouble because of an accident that might happen to anybody. I tell you -again that my mother is quite capable of not letting me in if I go home -without somebody to answer for me who can swear that I am innocent." - -"And you expect me to swear to that, do you?" - -"Pardine! would that skin your tongue? Besides, you're a fine gentleman, -a swell; she won't dare to fly into a temper before you, and she'll -listen to me. But if I go home alone--what a row! Oh! mon Dieu! how -unlucky I am! I didn't want to go to the Grand Salon at all; I was -afraid of something like this." - -And thereupon the tears and sobs began afresh, and she stamped with her -little feet. Perhaps her mother would tear out her hair; that would be -too bad, for it formed a most becoming frame for that frank, artless -countenance. My heart is not made of stone; I was touched by the girl's -distress, and I said to myself: "If, instead of this jacket, she were -dressed in silk or even in merino, if she wore a dainty bonnet instead -of this round cap, and a pretty locket instead of a cross _ la_ -Jeannette, I would long ago have offered my services with great zeal; I -would play the gallant and make myself as agreeable as possible; I would -cut myself in two to obtain a hearing, and I would regard it as a favor -if she would allow me to offer her my arm. And shall this modest costume -make me cruel, unfeeling? Shall I refuse to do a trivial favor, which -she implores with tears in her eyes? Ah! that would be bad, very -bad!"--I had been following a grisette and a _grande dame_, who perhaps -were not worth so much notice as this poor child; I had passed the -evening making a fool of myself, and I could certainly devote an hour to -a worthy action. I determined to escort my flower girl to her home. - -You see, reader, that I sometimes have good impulses; to be sure, the -girl pleased me much. "All women seem to please you," perhaps you will -say. True, reader; all the pretty ones; and I venture to say that you -are like me. - -I drew nearer to my pretty fugitive. She was sitting on a stone, holding -a corner of her apron to her eyes, and sobbing. - -"Mademoiselle." - -"Mon--monsieur." - -"What is your name?" - -"Ni-Ni-i-cette, monsieur." - -"Well, my little Nicette, have courage; stop crying, and take my arm. I -will take you home to your mother." - -"Real--Really?" - -She jumped for joy; indeed, I believe that she was on the point of -embracing me; but she contented herself with taking my arm, which she -pressed very close in hers, saying: - -"Ah! I was sure that you wouldn't leave me in such a pickle. I'm a good -girl, monsieur; the whole quarter will tell you that Nicette's -reputation's as clear as spring water. But my mother is so ugly! and -then my sister's jealous because she says I make soft eyes at -Finemouche." - -"You can tell me all about it on the way. Where are we going?" - -"Oh, dear! it's quite a little distance. I have a stand at the -Croix-Rouge, and I live on Rue Sainte-Marguerite, where my mother keeps -a fruit shop." - -From Faubourg Montmartre to the Croix-Rouge! that was enough to kill a -man! If only I could find a fiacre! I believe that I would even have -taken Franois's cabriolet, at the risk of having Belotte take the bit -in her teeth; but no carriage of any sort passed us. I had no choice -but to make the best of it; so I took Nicette by the arm and forced her -to quicken her pace. - -"You are a peddler, Nicette," I said; "what do you sell?" - -"Bouquets, monsieur; and they're always fresh, I flatter myself." - -She was a flower girl; I was sure of it. The certainty restored my -courage to some extent, and made the journey seem less long. I should -not have been flattered to act as escort to a fishwoman; and yet, when -it is a matter of rendering a service, should one be influenced by such -petty considerations? But what can you do? that infernal self-esteem is -forever putting itself forward. Moreover, I am no better than other men; -perhaps I am not so good; you may judge for yourselves. - -"Ah! you sell bouquets, do you?" - -"Yes, monsieur; and when you want a nice one, come and see me; I will -always have some ready for you, day or night." - -"Thanks.--But how does it happen that, living in Faubourg Saint-Germain, -you go to a dance near the Montmartre barrier? I should suppose that you -could find balls enough in your own neighborhood." - -"I'll tell you how that happens. My sister Fanchon has a lover, -Finemouche, a brewer, a fine-looking, dark fellow, that all the girls in -the quarter are mad over. My mother says that he's a ne'er-do-well, and -don't want Fanchon to listen to him; but Fanchon's crazy over him, and -she tries all sorts of ways to be with him, on condition that he won't -make love to her except with honest motives. This morning she agreed to -come to Montmartre at dusk, sentimentally, to have a drink of milk. But -she had to make up her mind to take me; mother wouldn't have let her go -alone. We said we were going to see an aunt of ours, who sells oranges -on the boulevard; that was a trick of Fanchon's. I went with her against -my will, especially as Finemouche sometimes gives me a look, that I -don't pay any attention to--on the word of an honest girl!--When we got -to Montmartre we found the brewer, who treated us both to a donkey ride. -After riding round for two hours, I said it was time to turn our toes -toward home; but Finemouche says: 'Let's rest a few minutes at the Grand -Salon--long enough to eat a salad and have a waltz.'--I didn't want to -accept; but my sister likes waltzing and salad, and I had to let her -have her way. So we went to the Grand Salon. Fanchon danced with -Finemouche; so far, everything went well enough. But, as luck would have -it, in comes Beauvisage, a fellow who works in a pork shop on our -street. He's another fellow who makes love to all the girls, and who's -taken it into his head to have a passion for me." - -"You don't seem to lack adorers, Nicette." - -"I have one or two, but it ain't my fault. God knows, I always receive -'em with my fists closed. But these men! the crueler you are, the more -they hang on! I have shown Monsieur Beauvisage that I don't like his -attentions; I always throw his presents in his face; but it don't make -any difference: just as sure as I leave my stand for a minute, when I -come back I find a sausage among my roses, or a pig's foot on my -footwarmer. Why, the other day, my birthday, he actually came to wish me -many happy returns, with a white pudding, and truffled at that! But all -that don't touch my heart; I told him that I wouldn't have him, before -all the old gossips of the quarter; and I threw his pudding in his -face. He went away in a rage, swearing that he'd kidnap me. So you can -imagine that I shivered with fright when I saw him come into the Grand -Salon, especially as I know what a hot-headed fellow he is.--Would you -believe, monsieur, he had the cheek to ask me to dance, just as if -nothing had happened! I refused him flat, because I ain't two-faced. He -tried to force me to dance; Finemouche came running up and ordered him -to let me alone instantly, at which he held me all the tighter. Cadet -handled him so rough that they went out to fight. My sister Fanchon -blamed me, because it made her mad to have her lover fight for me. But -the worst of it all is that Finemouche, who had drunk a good deal with -his salad, was beaten by Beauvisage. Fanchon ran off as soon as she saw -her lover on the ground; I tried to do the same, but my tormentor ran -after me. At last I caught sight of you, monsieur, and that gave me -courage; I was sure you'd protect me; I grabbed your arm, and that's -all." - -Nicette's story interested me; and the thing that pleased me most was -that she seemed to be virtuous and had no lover.--"What difference did -that make to you?" you will say; "as you were a young man in society, of -course you would not make love to a flower girl." True; I had no such -purpose; and yet, I became conscious that for some moments I had been -pressing the girl's arm more tenderly than before. But it was because I -was distraught. - -"Do you think my mother will beat me, monsieur?" - -"I don't see why she should be angry; you have done nothing wrong." - -"Oh! in the first place, we shouldn't have gone to the Grand Salon." - -"That was your sister's fault." - -"Yes, but she'll say it was mine. And then, I'll tell you something. My -mother's inclined to favor Beauvisage, who shuts her eyes with galantine -and never comes to the house without a chitterling eight inches long. -Mother's crazy over chitterlings, and she'd like to have me marry the -pork man, so that she could always have a pig's pudding on hand. But I -have always refused to hear with that ear, and since then they all look -crosswise at me at home. So they'll lay the quarrel and the whole row on -my shoulders. Oh! mon Dieu! I shall be beaten, I am sure!" - -"Poor Nicette! I promise you that I will speak to your mother in your -behalf." - -"Oh! I beg you to! You see, she's quite capable of not letting me in, -and making me spend the night in the street! That miserable Beauvisage! -he's the cause of it all! I'd rather jump into the river than be his -wife!" - -"Can you say as much about Finemouche?" - -"Yes, monsieur; I want a husband to my taste, and I don't like any of -those jokers." - -"Then you have no lover?" - -"No, monsieur." - -"But, at your age, one ought to love." - -"Oh! I'm in no hurry. But we're almost there, monsieur, we're almost -there. Ah! how my heart thumps!" - -I felt that she was really trembling, and, to encourage her, I took one -of her hands and pressed it. She made no resistance, she was thinking of -nothing but her mother. - -At last we reached Rue Sainte-Marguerite; Nicette dared not go any -farther. - -"There's the place, monsieur," she said; "that house next to the porte -cochre." - -"Well, let us go there." - -"Oh! wait just a minute, till I can breathe!" - -"Why are you so frightened? Am I not here?" - -"Pardine! perhaps mother won't even let you in!" - -"We will make her listen to reason." - -"That will be hard." - -"Your sister is more to blame than you." - -"Yes, but she's fond of my sister, and she don't like me." - -"Well, we haven't come all this distance not to try our luck." - -"That is true, monsieur. Come on, let's go to the house." - -We arrived in front of Madame Jrme's shop; I had learned from Nicette -that that was her mother's name. Everything was tightly closed and -perfectly still; no light could be seen inside the house. - -"Does your mother sleep in the shop?" - -"Yes, monsieur; at the back." - -"We must knock." - -"Oh! if only my sister hasn't got home!" - -"Let's knock, in any event." - -I knocked, for Nicette had not the requisite courage; there was no -reply. - -"She sleeps very soundly," I said to the girl. - -"Oh, no, monsieur! that means that she don't intend to let me in." - -"Parbleu! she'll have to answer." - -I knocked again; we heard a movement inside, then someone approached the -door, and a hoarse voice demanded: - -"Who's that knocking at this time of night?" - -"It's me, mother." - -"Ah! it's you, is it, you shameless hussy! and you think I'll let you in -after midnight, when you've been setting men to fighting and turning a -whole quarter upside down! Off with you this minute, and don't ever let -me see you again!" - -"Mother! please let me in; my sister has deceived you." - -"No, no; I know the whole story. You're a cursed little pig-headed fool! -Ah! you don't choose to be a pork man's wife, don't you? All right! go -and walk the streets; we'll see if you have pig's pudding to eat every -day!" - -Nicette wept. I thought that it was time for me to intervene in the -quarrel. - -"Madame," I called through the door, in a voice which I tried to make -imposing, "your daughter has done no wrong; you are scolding her most -unjustly; and if you leave her in the street, you will expose her to the -risk of doing what you will regret." - -I waited for a reply; none was forthcoming, but I heard someone removing -the iron bars, as if to open the shop. I went up to Nicette. - -"You see," said I, "my voice and my remonstrance have produced some -effect. I was certain that I could pacify your mother. Come, dry your -tears; she is coming, and I promise you that I will make her listen to -reason, and that she won't leave you to sleep in the street." - -Nicette listened, but she still doubted my ability to obtain her pardon. -Meanwhile, the noise continued, and the door did, in fact, open. Madame -Jrme appeared on the threshold, wearing a dressing jacket and a -nightcap. I stepped forward to intercede for the girl, who dared not -stir; I was about to begin a sentence which I thought well adapted to -touch a mother's heart, but Madame Jrme did not give me time. - -"So you're the man," she cried, "who brings this boldface home, and -undertakes to preach to me and to teach me how to manage my daughters! -Take that to pay you for your trouble!" - -As she spoke, the fruit seller dealt me a buffet that sent me reeling -toward the other side of the street; then she drew back into her shop -and slammed the door in our faces. - - - - -IV - -MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND - - -For five minutes I did not say a word to Nicette. Madame Jrme's blow -had cooled my zeal in the girl's cause very materially. I could not -forbear reflecting upon the various events of the evening, and I seemed -to detect therein a fatality which made me pay dearly for all my -attempts at seduction. - -For following a working girl, the tip of whose finger I had not been -allowed to squeeze, I had been spattered with filth on Rue des Rosiers; -for playing the gallant and making myself agreeable to a -_petite-matresse_ who bestowed divers exceedingly soft glances upon me, -I had fallen in with an infernal cab driver, who had driven me to a -strange quarter of the city, a long way from my own home; and lastly, -for consenting to act as the protector of a young flower girl, whom I -undertook to reconcile with her mother, I had received a well-aimed blow -on the head. This last catastrophe seemed to me rank injustice on the -part of Providence; for to take Nicette home to Madame Jrme was a very -kind action. What nonsense it is to talk about a benefaction never -being wasted! But my cheek began to burn less hotly, and my ill humor -became less pronounced. It was not Nicette's fault that I had received -that blow. I determined to make the best of my predicament and to -console the poor child, whose distress was much augmented by this last -accident. - -"You are right, Nicette; your mother is very unkind." - -"Oh, yes, monsieur! What did I tell you? I am awful sorry for what -happened to you; but if you hadn't been there, I should have been beaten -much worse than that." - -"In that case, it is clear that all is for the best." - -"My mother's very quick!" - -"That is true." - -"She has a light hand." - -"I found it rather heavy!" - -"She cuffs me for a _yes_ or a _no_; but it's worse than ever, since I -refused Beauvisage. Ah! I am very unhappy! It wouldn't take much to make -me jump into the Canal de l'Ourcq." - -"Come, come, be calm; the most urgent thing now is to find out where you -can go to pass the night, as your mother really refuses to admit you. -Have you any relations in this quarter?" - -"Mon Dieu! no, not a soul; I have an aunt in Faubourg Saint-Denis; but -she wouldn't take me in--she'd be too much afraid of having a row with -my mother." - -"Madame Jrme is a general terror, I see." - -"Alas! yes." - -"Where will you sleep, then?" - -"At your house, monsieur, with your permission; or else in the street." - -There was in Nicette's suggestion such childlike innocence, or such -shameless effrontery, that I could not restrain a start of surprise. It -is difficult to believe in the innocence and navet of a flower girl. -And yet, in her language there was something so sincere, so persuasive; -and on the other hand, her eyes, whose expression was so soft and tender -when they were not bathed in tears, her little retrouss nose, the way -in which she had seized my arm, and, lastly, this barefaced proposal to -pass the night in a young man's apartment--all these things threw my -mind into a state of uncertainty to which I tried in vain to put an end. - -However, I was obliged to make up my mind. Nicette was gazing at me, -awaiting my answer; her eyes implored me. My heart was weak. - -"Come with me," I said at last. - -"Ah! monsieur, how good you are! how I thank you!" - -Again she took possession of my arm, and we started for Rue -Saint-Florentin. This time we made the journey in silence. I was musing -upon the singularity of the adventure that had happened to me. The idea -of my taking a street corner huckster home with me, to sleep in my -rooms! And remember, reader, that I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, near -the Tuileries; you will divine, from that detail, that I was something -of a swell, but a swell who followed grisettes. Oh! it was simply as a -pastime. I was not in the least conceited, I beg you to believe; and if -an impulse which I could not control drew me constantly toward the fair -sex, and led me to overlook rank and social station, I may say with -Boileau: - - "'Twas destiny's fault!" - -But I was not one of those persons, either, who defy all the -proprieties; I did not wish to be looked upon, in the house in which I -lived, as a man who consorted with the first woman he chanced to meet; -and in that house, as everywhere, there were malicious tongues! I had, -in particular, a certain neighbor. Ah!---- - -It was necessary, therefore, to keep Nicette out of sight. I hoped that -that would be an easy matter, so far as going in was concerned. It was -at least one o'clock in the morning, and my concierge would be in bed; -when that was the case, if anyone knocked, she simply inquired, from her -bed: "Who's that?" and then pulled the cord, without disturbing herself -further. So that Nicette could go up to my room unseen. But as to her -going away the next day! Madame Dupont, my concierge, was inquisitive -and talkative; she was like all concierges--I need say no more. The -whole household would hear of the adventure; I should be unmercifully -laughed at; it would be known in society. It was most embarrassing; but -I could not leave Nicette in the street. Poor child! the watch would -find her and take her to the police station, as a vagrant! And I -honestly believed that she was a respectable girl; I almost believed -that she was innocent; however, that would appear in due time. - -We crossed the bridges, followed the quays, and at last drew near our -destination. Nicette did not walk so rapidly as at first; she was tired -out by her evening's work; and I--well, I leave it to you to guess! - -"Here we are!" I said at last. - -"I'm glad of it; for I'm awful tired." - -"And I, too, I assure you. I must knock." - -"Oh! what a beautiful street! and what a fine house!" - -"You mustn't make any noise when we go upstairs, Nicette; you mustn't -speak!" - -"No, monsieur, never fear; I don't want to wake anybody up." - -"Sh! The door is open." - -Madame Dupont asked who was there; I replied, and we entered the house; -the hall light was out and it was very dark; that was what I wanted. - -"Give me your hand," I whispered to Nicette, "and let me lead you; but, -above all things, no noise." - -"All right, monsieur." - -I led her to the staircase, which we ascended as softly as possible. I -wished with all my heart that we were safely in my rooms. If anyone -should open a door, I could not conceal Nicette; I had not even a cloak -to throw over her, for it was summer. - -I lived on the fourth floor; to obtain a desirable bachelor's apartment -on Rue Saint-Florentin, one had to pay a dear price, even if it were -very high. On the same landing with me lived a curious mortal of some -thirty-six to forty years, whose face would have been insignificant but -for the fact that his absurd airs and pretensions made it comical. He -was of medium height, and strove to assume an agile and sprightly gait -and bearing, despite an embonpoint which became more pronounced every -day. He had four thousand francs a year, which left him free to devote -himself to the business of other people. Moreover, he was poet, painter, -musician; combining all the talents, as he said and believed, but in -reality a butt for the ridicule of both men and women, especially the -latter; but he insinuated himself everywhere, none the less, attended -every party, every ball, every concert; because in society everybody is -popular who arouses laughter, whether it be by his wit or by his -absurdities. - -We had just arrived at my landing, when Monsieur Raymond suddenly opened -his door and appeared before us in his shirt and cotton nightcap, with a -candle in one hand, and a key in the other. - -I did not know whether to step forward or to turn back. Monsieur Raymond -stared with all his eyes, and Nicette laughed aloud. - -I was determined that he should not, at all events, have time to -scrutinize the girl; I fumbled hastily in my pocket for my key, but it -was entangled in my handkerchief; I could not get it out, I could not -find the lock; the more I tried to hurry, the less I succeeded; it -seemed that the devil was taking a hand! - -Monsieur Raymond, observing my embarrassment, walked toward me with a -mischievous smile and held his light under my nose, saying: - -"Allow me to give you some light, neighbor; you can't see, you are at -one side of the lock." - -I would gladly have given him the blow that Madame Jrme had given me! -but I realized that I must restrain myself; so I thanked him, unlocked -my door, and entered, pushing Nicette before me. I closed the door, -paying no heed to Monsieur Raymond's offer to light my candle for me. - -But suddenly an idea came into my mind; I took a candle, opened my door -again, and ran after Raymond, seizing him by his shirt just as he was -entering a certain place. I put my finger to my lips, with a mysterious -air. - -"What's the matter?" queried Raymond, extricating his shirt from my -hand. - -"Don't mention the fact that you saw Agathe with me to-night." - -"A--Agathe! What do you say? Why, you are joking!" - -"We have just come from a masquerade; she disguised herself for it, -and----" - -"Do you mean to say that there are masquerade balls in July?" - -"There are if anyone chooses to give one; this was for somebody's -birthday." - -"But that girl----" - -"She is well disguised, isn't she? I'll bet that you didn't recognize -her at the first glance. The costume--the rouge--they change one's whole -appearance." - -"Faith! I confess that I didn't see even the slightest resemblance." - -"I rely on your discretion. To-morrow I will tell you what my motive is; -you will laugh with me at the adventure. Au revoir, neighbor; -good-night! Allow me to light my candle, now." - -"Much pleasure to you, Monsieur Dorsan!" - -I left Raymond and returned to my room. My neighbor was not fully -persuaded that it was Agathe whom he had seen; but I had at least, by my -stratagem, reserved for myself an answer to his gossip; and if he should -talk, I could easily persuade people that he was asleep and had not seen -things as they were. - -"But," you will say, "by that falsehood you destroyed another woman's -reputation. Who is this Agathe whom you put forward so inconsiderately?" - -This Agathe is my last mistress, with whom I had broken only a short -time before; she is a milliner, very lively, very alluring, and very -wanton! She had sometimes done me the honor to come to me to ask -hospitality for the night; my neighbor had often seen her going in and -out of my room, so that once more or less would do her no harm. Her -reputation was in no danger, as you see. - -Now that I have told you about Mademoiselle Agathe, with whom Monsieur -Raymond did not know that I had fallen out, not being in my confidence, -I return to Nicette, who is in my apartment, waiting for me. It was -half-past one in the morning; but there is time for a great deal between -that hour and daybreak! My heart beat fast! Faith! I had no idea what -the night would bring to pass. - - - - -V - -WHAT THE NIGHT BROUGHT TO PASS - - -"What a funny man that is!" said Nicette, as I entered the room with a -light. "When I saw that figure, in his shirt, that neckerchief tied with -a lover's knot, that big nose, and those surprised eyes, I couldn't keep -from laughing." - -"I must confess, Mademoiselle Nicette, that you cause me a lot of -trouble!" - -"Do I, monsieur? Oh! I am so sorry!" - -"But here we are in my rooms at last, God be praised! I don't quite -know, though, how you are to go out!" - -"Pardine! through the door, as I came." - -"That's easy for you to say! However, we will see, when to-morrow -comes." - -Nicette looked about her. She examined my apartment, my furniture; she -followed me into each room; I had only three, by the way: a small -reception room, a bedroom, and a study where I worked, or read, or -played the piano, or did whatever else I chose. - -"Sit down and rest," I said. - -"Oh! in a moment, monsieur; you see----" - -She glanced at my couch and my easy-chairs; she seemed to be afraid to -go near them. I could not help smiling at her embarrassment. - -"Doesn't the apartment please you?" I inquired. - -"Oh! yes, indeed, monsieur! but it's all so fine and so shiny! I'm -afraid of spoiling something." - -"You need not be afraid." - -I led her to the couch, and almost forced her to sit down by my side. - -"I am alone, you see, Nicette; you have come to a bachelor's quarters." - -"Oh! I don't care about that, monsieur; at any rate, I didn't have any -choice." - -"Then you're not afraid to pass the night with me?" - -"No, monsieur; I see that you're an honorable man, and that I needn't be -afraid of anything in your rooms." - -"Oho! she sees that I am an honorable man!" said I to myself; "in that -case, I must have a very captivating countenance. However, I am not -ill-looking; some women say that I am rather handsome; and this girl -isn't afraid to pass the night with a good-looking bachelor! Perhaps she -thinks me ugly." - -These reflections annoyed me; while making them, I looked at Nicette -more closely than I had hitherto been able to do. She was really very -good-looking; a face at once piquant and sweet, and with some -character--absolutely unlike what we ordinarily find in a flower girl: -she had the freshness and charm of her flowers, and she was the daughter -of a fruit peddler, of Mother Jrme! There are such odd contrasts in -nature; however, I could but acknowledge that chance had been very -favorable to me this time. I began to be quite reconciled to my -evening's entertainment; I forgot the grisette and the -_petite-matresse_, to think solely of the charming face at my side. - -As I gazed at the girl, I had moved nearer to her; I softly passed my -arm about her waist; and the more favorable the examination, the more -tightly I pressed the red gown. - -Nicette did not speak, but she seemed agitated; her bosom rose and fell -more frequently, her respiration became shorter; she kept her eyes on -the floor. Suddenly she extricated herself from my embrace, rose, and -asked me, in a trembling voice, where she was to pass the night. - -That question embarrassed me; I admit that I had not yet thought of -that. I glanced at Nicette; her lovely eyes were still fastened on the -floor. Was she afraid to meet mine? Did she love me already? and---- -Nonsense! that infernal self-esteem of mine was off at a gallop! - -"We have time enough to think about that, Nicette. Do you feel sleepy?" - -"Oh, no! it ain't that, monsieur." - -"Ah! so there's another reason, is there?" - -"I don't want to be in your way; you told me you was tired, too." - -"That has all passed away; I have forgotten it." - -"Never mind, monsieur; show me where I can pass the night. I'll go into -one of the other rooms. I shall be very comfortable on a chair, and----" - -"Pass the night on a chair! Nonsense! you mustn't think of such a -thing!" - -"Oh, yes! I ain't hard to suit, monsieur." - -"No matter; I shan't consent to that. But sit down, Nicette, there's no -hurry now. Come and sit down. Are you afraid to sit beside me?" - -"No, monsieur." - -But she took her seat at the other end of the couch. Her blushing face -and her confusion betrayed a part of her sensations. I myself was -embarrassed--think of it! with a flower girl! Indeed, it was just -because she was a flower girl that I didn't know where to begin. I give -you my word, reader, that I should have made much more rapid progress -with a _grande dame_ or a grisette. - -"Do you know, Nicette, that you are charming?" - -"I have been told so, monsieur." - -"You must have many men making love to you?" - -"Oh! there's some that try to fool me when they come to buy flowers of -me; but I don't listen to 'em." - -"Why do you think that they are trying to fool you?" - -"Oh! because they're swells--like you." - -"So, if I should mention the word _love_ to you, you would think----" - -"That you was making fun of me. Pardi! that's plain enough!" - -That beginning was not of good augury. No matter, I continued the -attack, moving gradually nearer the girl. - -"I swear to you, Nicette, that I never make fun of anyone!" - -"All men say that!" - -"Besides, you are quite pretty enough to arouse a genuine passion." - -"Yes, a passion of a fortnight! Oh! I ain't to be caught in that trap." - -"On my honor, you are too pretty for a flower girl." - -"Bah! you are joking." - -"If you chose, Nicette, you could find something better to do than -that." - -"No, monsieur, no; I don't want to sell anything but bouquets. Oh! I -ain't vain. I refused Beauvisage, who's got money, and who'd have given -me calico dresses, caps _ la glaneuse_, and gilt chains; but all those -things didn't tempt me. When I don't like a person, nothing can make me -change my mind." - -She was not covetous; so that it was necessary to win her regard in -order to obtain anything from her. I determined to win her regard. But I -have this disadvantage when I try to make myself agreeable: I never know -what I am saying; that was why I sat for ten minutes without speaking a -word to Nicette, contenting myself with frequent profound sighs and an -occasional cough, to revive the conversation. But Nicette was very -innocent, or perhaps she meant to laugh at me when she said with great -sang-froid: - -"Have you got a bad cold, monsieur?" - -I blushed at my idiocy; the idea of being so doltish and timid with a -flower seller! Really, I hardly recognized myself. - -And the better to recognize myself, I put my arms about Nicette and -tried to draw her into my lap. - -"Let go of me, monsieur; let go, I beg you!" - -"Why, what harm are we doing, Nicette?" - -"I don't want you to squeeze me so tight." - -"One kiss, and I'll let you go." - -"Just one, all right." - -Her consent was necessary, for she was very well able to defend herself; -she was strong and could make a skilful use of her hands and knees; and -as I was not accustomed to contests of that sort, in which our society -ladies give us little practice, I began to think that I should find it -difficult to triumph over the girl. - -She gave me permission to kiss her, and I made the most of it; trusting -in my promise, she allowed me to take that coveted kiss, and offered me -her fresh, rosy cheek, still graced with the down of youth and -innocence. - -But I desired a still greater privilege; I longed to steal from a lovely -pair of lips a far sweeter kiss. Nicette tried, but too late, to prevent -me. I took one, I took a thousand. Ah! how sweet were those kisses that -I imprinted on Nicette's lips! Saint-Preux found Julie's bitter; but I -have never detected a trace of bitterness in a pretty woman's kisses; to -be sure, I am no Saint-Preux, thank heaven! - -A consuming flame coursed through my veins. Nicette shared my emotion; I -could tell by the expression of her eyes, by the quivering of her whole -frame. I sought to take advantage of her confusion to venture still -further; but she repulsed me, she tore herself from my arms, rushed to -the door, and was already on the landing, when I overtook her and caught -her by her skirt. - -"Where in heaven's name are you going, Nicette?" - -"I am going away, monsieur." - -"What's that?" - -"Yes, monsieur, I am going away; I see now that I mustn't pass the night -here in your rooms; I wouldn't have believed that you'd take advantage -of my trouble to---- But since I made a mistake, I'm going away." - -"Stop, for heaven's sake! Where would you go?" - -"Oh! I don't know about that; but it don't make any difference! I see -that I'd be safer in the street than alone here with you." - -I felt that I deserved that reproach. The girl was virtuous; she had -placed herself under my protection without distrust; she had asked me -for hospitality, and I was about to take advantage of her helpless -plight, to seduce her! That was contemptible behavior. But I may say, in -my own justification, that I did not know Nicette, and that, for all the -artless simplicity of her language, a young girl who suggests to a man -that she pass the night under his roof certainly lays herself open to -suspicion, especially in Paris, where innocent young maids are so rare. - -She still held the door ajar, and I did not relax my grasp of her skirt. -I looked in her face, and saw great tears rolling down her cheeks. Poor -child! it was I who caused them to fall! She seemed prettier to me than -ever; I was tempted to throw myself at her feet and beg her to forgive -me. But what! I, on my knees before a street peddler! Do not be alarmed: -I did not offend the proprieties to that extent. - -"I beg you to remain, Nicette," I said, at last. - -"No, monsieur; I made a mistake about you; I must go." - -"Listen to me; in the first place, you can't go away from the house -alone; at this time of night the concierge opens the door only to those -who give their names." - -"Oh! but I remember your name; it's Dorsan." - -"It isn't enough to give my name; she would know that it wasn't my -voice." - -"All right; then I'll stay in the courtyard till morning." - -"Excellent; everybody will see you; and think of the remarks and -tittle-tattle of all the cooks of the quarter! It's bad enough that that -infernal Raymond should have seen you. Come back to my rooms, Nicette; I -promise, yes, I swear, to behave myself and not to torment you." - -She hesitated; she looked into my face, and doubtless my eyes told her -all that was taking place in my mind; for she closed the door of the -landing, and smiled at me, saying: - -"I believe you, and I'll stay." - -In my joy I was going to kiss her again; but I checked myself, and I did -well: oaths amount to so little! - -"But, monsieur," she said, "we can't pass the night sitting in your big -easy-chair." - -She was quite right; that would have been too dangerous. - -"You will sleep in my bed," I replied, "and I will pass the night on the -sofa in my study. No objections, mademoiselle; I insist upon it. You -will be at liberty to double-lock my study door; you can go to sleep -without the slightest fear. Does that suit you?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -We went back into my bedroom; I lighted another candle, and carried the -couch into my study, with Nicette's assistance. I confess that that -operation was a painful one to me. However, it was done at last. - -"Now you may go to bed and sleep in peace. Good-night, Nicette!" - -"Good-night, monsieur!" - -I took my candle and retired to my study, closing the door behind me. -There we were, in our respective quarters. I blew out the candle and -threw myself on the couch. If only I could sleep; time passes so quickly -then! And yet, we sleep about a third part of our lives! and we are -always glad to plunge into that oblivion, albeit we stand in fear of -death, which is simply a never-ending sleep, during which it is certain -that one is not disturbed by bad dreams! - -Sleep, indeed! In vain did I stretch myself out, and twist and turn in -every direction. I could not sleep; it was impossible. I concluded to -resign myself to the inevitable, and I began to recall the incidents of -my extraordinary evening; I thought of Caroline, of the charming woman -at the theatre, of that infernal cabman. I tried to put Nicette out of -my thoughts; but she constantly returned; I strove in vain to banish -her. The idea that she was close at hand, within a few feet of me, that -only a thin partition separated me from her--that idea haunted me! When -I thought that I might be beside her, that I might hold her in my arms -and give her her first lessons in love and pleasure--then I lost my -head, my blood boiled. Only Nicette's consent was needed to make us -happy, and she would not give it! To be sure, that same happiness might -have results most embarrassing to her. - -I had the fidgets in my legs. I rose and paced the floor, but very -softly; perhaps she was asleep, and I would not wake her. Poor child! -she had had trouble enough during the evening, and I was afraid that -still greater trouble was in store for her; for if her mother persisted -in her refusal to take her in, what would she do? Until that moment, I -had not given a thought to her future. - -But I had not heard the key turn in the lock; therefore, she had not -locked herself in. That was strange; evidently she relied on my oath. -What imprudence, to believe in a young man's promises! - -Was she asleep or not? that was what tormented me. For half an hour I -stood close against the door, turning first one ear, then the other, and -listening intently; but I could hear nothing. I looked through the -keyhole; there was a light in the room; was it from caution, or -forgetfulness? - -But she had not locked the door. Ah! perhaps she had locked it without -my hearing it. It was very easy to satisfy myself on that point. I -turned the knob very gently, and the door opened. I stopped, fearing -that I had made a noise. But I heard nothing. If I could see her for a -moment asleep, see her in bed--for there, and only there can one judge a -woman's beauty fairly. I leaned forward; the candle stood on the -commode, at some little distance from the bed. I stepped into the room, -holding my breath, and stood by her side. She was not undressed; I might -have guessed as much. I turned to walk away. Ah! those miserable shoes! -they squeaked, and Nicette awoke. I determined to change my shoemaker. - -"Do you want anything, monsieur?" she asked. - -"No; that is to say, yes, I--I was looking for a book; but I have found -it." - -I returned quickly to my study, feeling that I must have cut a sorry -figure. The door was closed, and I was not tempted to open it again. Ah! -how long that night seemed to me! The day came at last! - - - - -VI - -MADEMOISELLE AGATHE - - -It was long after daybreak. People were already going and coming in the -house, and I had not yet ventured to wake Nicette. She was sleeping so -soundly! and the preceding day had been a day of tempest, after which -rest was essential. But I heard a movement at last; she rose, opened the -door, and came toward me, smiling. - -"Monsieur, will you allow me to kiss you?" - -I understood: that was my reward for my continence during the night, and -it was well worth it. She kissed me with evident pleasure, and I began -to feel the enjoyment that one is likely to feel when one has no -occasion for self-reproach. - -"Now, Nicette, let us talk seriously; but, no, let us breakfast first of -all; we can talk quite as well at table. You must feel the need of -something to eat, do you not?" - -"Yes, monsieur, I should like some breakfast right well." - -"I always keep something on hand for unexpected guests." - -"Tell me where everything is, monsieur, and I'll set the table." - -"On the sideboard yonder, and in the drawers." - -"All right, all right!" - -She ran to fetch what we required. In two minutes the table was set. I -admired Nicette's grace and activity; a little maid-servant like that, -I thought, would suit me infinitely better than my concierge, Madame -Dupont, who took care of my rooms. But, apropos of Madame Dupont, -suppose she should appear? We had time enough, however; for it was only -seven o'clock, and the concierge, knowing that I was a little inclined -to be lazy, never came up before eight. So that we could breakfast at -our ease. - -"Let us talk a little, Nicette. I am interested in your future; you -cannot doubt that." - -"You have proved it, monsieur." - -"What are you going to do when you leave me?" - -"Go back to my mother." - -"That is quite right; but suppose she still refuses to let you in?" - -"I will try to find work; I will go out to service, if I must; perhaps I -shall be able to get in somewhere." - -"Undoubtedly; but who can say what sort of people you will encounter, -and what hands you will fall into? Young and pretty as you are, you will -find it harder than others might to get a suitable place, if, as I -assume, you mean to remain virtuous." - -"Oh! indeed I do mean to remain virtuous, monsieur." - -"I know what men are; they are almost all libertines; marriage puts no -curb on their passions. Wherever you take service, your masters will -make you some unequivocal proposals, and will maltreat you if you reject -them." - -"Then I will leave the house; I'll hire myself out to a single lady." - -"Old maids are exacting, and keep their young servants in close -confinement, for fear that they may walk the streets and make -acquaintances. Young women receive much company, and will set you a -dangerous example." - -"How good you talk this morning!" - -"Don't wonder at that; a drunkard is a connoisseur in wine, a welcher in -horses, a painter in pictures, a libertine in methods of seduction. For -the very reason that I am not virtuous, I am better able than another to -warn you of the risks you are about to run. Experience teaches. You did -not yield to me, and I desire to preserve you for the future. Don't be -grateful to me for it; very likely, it is simply a matter of self-esteem -on my part, for I feel that it would be distressing to me to see the -profanation of a flower that I have failed to pluck. You understand me, -don't you, Nicette?" - -"Yes, yes, monsieur! I'm no prude, and I know what you mean! But don't -be afraid! How could I give another what I refused you?" - -She said this with evident feeling and sincerity. Clearly she liked me; -I could not doubt it; she was all the more praiseworthy for having -resisted me. - -"After all, my dear girl, I don't see why you shouldn't continue to sell -flowers; it is better suited to you than domestic service." - -"That is true, monsieur, but----" - -"I understand you. Here, Nicette, take this purse; you may accept it -without a blush, for it is not the price of your dishonor. I am simply -doing you a favor, lending you a little money, if you like that better." - -"Oh! monsieur, money--from a young man! What will people think of that?" - -"You must not say from whom you got it." - -"When a girl suddenly has money in her possession, people think, they -imagine that----" - -"Let the gossips chatter, and force them to hold their tongues by the -way you behave." - -"My mother----" - -"A mother who refuses to support her child has no right to demand an -account of her actions." - -"But this purse--you are giving me too much, monsieur." - -"The purse contains only three hundred francs; I won it two days ago at -cart. Really, Nicette, if you knew how easily money is lost at cards, -you would be less grateful to me for this trifle." - -"A trifle! three hundred francs! enough to set me up in business! Why, -monsieur, it's a treasure!" - -"Yes, to you who know the full value of money, and use it judiciously. -But things are valuable only so long as they are in their proper place." - -"All this means, I suppose, that you are very rich?" - -"It means that, having been brought up in affluence, accustomed to -gratify all my whims, I am not familiar enough with the value of money. -This three hundred francs that I offer you, I should probably lose at -cards without a pang; so take the money, Nicette; you can give it back -to me, if the day ever comes when I need it." - -"Oh, yes! whenever you want it, monsieur; everything I have will always -be at your service." - -"I don't doubt it, my dear friend; so that business is settled." - -"Yes, monsieur; if my mother sends me away, I'll hire a small room, I'll -buy flowers; I'll be saving and orderly, and perhaps some day I'll get -where I can have a nice little shop of my own." - -"Then you will marry according to your taste, and you'll be happy." - -"Perhaps so! but let's not talk about that, monsieur." - -"Well! time flies; it's nearly eight o'clock, and you must go, Nicette." - -"Yes, monsieur, that is true; whenever you say the word. But I--is----" - -"What do you want to say?" - -"Shan't I see you again?" - -"Yes, indeed; I hope to see you often. If you move to another quarter, -you must leave your new address with my concierge." - -"Very well, monsieur; I won't fail." - -The child was in evident distress; she turned her face away to conceal -her tears. Could it be that she was sorry to leave me? What nonsense! We -had known each other only since the night before! And yet, I too was -unhappy at parting from her. - -She was certain to meet one or more servants on the stairs; but what was -she to do? there was no other way out. She promised to go down very -rapidly, and to hurry under the porte cochre. - -I kissed her affectionately--too affectionately for a man who had given -her three hundred francs; it was too much like taking compensation for -the gift. - -I opened the door leading to the landing, and stood aside to let Nicette -go out first, when a roar of laughter made me look up. That fiendish -Raymond's door was open, and he stood inside with a young woman; that -young woman was Agathe! - -It was a contemptible trick. I recognized Raymond's prying curiosity and -Agathe's spirit of mischief. They were on the watch for me, no doubt; -possibly they had been on sentry-go since daybreak. But how did it -happen that Agathe was there? She had never spoken to Raymond. I swore -that he should pay me for his perfidy. - -Nicette looked at me, trying to read in my eyes whether she should go -forward or back. It was useless to pretend any longer; perhaps, indeed, -if there were any further delay, Monsieur Raymond would succeed in -collecting a large part of the household on my landing. So I pushed -Nicette toward the stairs. - -"Adieu, Monsieur Dorsan!" she said sadly. - -"Adieu, adieu, my child! I hope that your mother---- I will see--you -shall hear--perhaps we may--adieu!" - -I had no idea what I was saying; anger and vexation impeded my -utterance. But Nicette, who was moved by but one sentiment,--regret at -leaving me,--wiped the tears from her eyes with a corner of her apron. - -"Ha! ha! this is really sentimental!" laughed Mademoiselle Agathe, as -she watched the girl go downstairs; "what! tears and sighs! Ha! ha! it's -enough to make one die of laughing! But I should be much obliged to you, -monsieur, if you would tell me how it happened that I was at a ball with -you last night, and disguised, without knowing anything about it. Well! -why don't you speak? don't you hear me?" - -My attention was engrossed by another object. My eyes were fastened on -my neighbor, and my steadfast gaze evidently embarrassed him; for, in a -moment, I saw that he turned as red as fire; he began to shift about in -his confusion, tried to smile, and at last returned to his own room, -taking care to lock the door. - -"Ah! Monsieur Raymond, I owe you one for this! we shall meet again!" I -said, walking toward his door. Then I turned to answer Mademoiselle -Agathe, but she had entered my apartment; and as she was perfectly -familiar with the locality, I found her in my little study, nonchalantly -reclining on the sofa. - -"Do tell me, Eugne, what all this means? Mon Dieu! how things are -changed about! the couch in the study; the bed partly tumbled; the -remains of a breakfast. What happened here last night?" - -"Nothing, I assure you." - -"Oh! nothing out of the ordinary course, I understand that. But this -couch puzzles me. Tell me about it, Eugne, my little Eugne. Because -you are no longer my lover is no reason why we shouldn't be friends." - -You are aware, reader, that Mademoiselle Agathe is the milliner with -whom I had fallen out because I discovered that she was unfaithful to -me. In fact, it was my vexation on her account that had led me to -indulge in those melancholy reflections during my stroll along the -boulevard on the preceding evening. But since then my susceptible heart -had experienced so many new sensations, that the memory of Agathe's -treachery had vanished altogether; I had ceased to regret her, -consequently I was no longer angry with her. I realized that she was -justified in joking me about my serious air, which was not at all -consistent with our former liaison, and which might have led one to -think that I expected to find a Penelope in a young milliner. So I -assumed a more cheerful demeanor, and questioned her in my turn. - -"How did you happen to be there on my landing, talking with Raymond, -whom you could never endure?" - -"But this couch--this couch here in the study?" - -"You shall know all about it, but answer me first." - -"Oh! I've no objection; I went into the country yesterday with -Gerville--you know, the young government clerk who lives on the floor -below." - -"Yes, my successor, in fact." - -"Your successor, call him so. We returned late; I was very tired, -and----" - -"You passed the night with him; that's a matter of course, and perfectly -natural, in my opinion. Well?" - -"Why, I had to go away this morning. At half-past six, I crept softly -downstairs and was just passing through the porte cochre, when I saw -Raymond standing guard at the corner. He scrutinized me, and smiled -slyly.--'On my word,' he said, 'I didn't believe it was you; you were -perfectly disguised; the fishwoman's costume is very becoming to you, -and yet it changes you amazingly. I'd have sworn that Monsieur Dorsan -was lying to me.'--I listened, without understanding a word; but your -name and what he said aroused my curiosity. I suspected some mistake, so -I forced Raymond to tell me all he knew; I haven't stopped laughing at -it yet. Raymond was delighted when he found out that it wasn't I who was -with you. I asked him if he was certain that your new victim was still -in the house. He said he was; for he had passed most of the night on the -landing, and had gone on duty at the porte cochre at daybreak. So I -came up with him, to make the tableau more interesting; and we waited at -least an hour, until it was your good pleasure to open your door. We -would have stayed there till night, I assure you, rather than not -satisfy our mutual curiosity." - -"Gad! what a fellow that Raymond is! An old woman couldn't have done -better." - -"Well, I've told my story; now it's your turn." - -"What do you want me to tell you? You saw a girl leave my rooms, eh?" - -"Yes, she was very pretty; a face that takes your eye; rather a large -mouth. But that costume! What, Monsieur Eugne! you, a dandy of dandies, -caught by a round cap! Why, I no longer recognize you!" - -"For what I propose to do, mademoiselle, the question of cap or hat is -of no consequence at all." - -"Of course, you don't propose to do anything, because you have done -enough." - -"You are mistaken, Agathe. That is an honest, virtuous girl; she is -nothing to me, and never will be." - -"What's that? Oh! it's as plain as a pikestaff: she came here to sleep, -so as not to be afraid of the dark; that's all!-- - - "'Go and see if they're coming, Jean!'" - -"I realize that appearances are against us; and yet nothing can be more -true than what I tell you. The explanation as to the couch being in the -study is that she slept in my bedroom, and I slept here." - -"For ten minutes, very likely; but after that you joined her." - -"No; I swear that I did not." - -"You'd never have been donkey enough to stay here." - -"I understand that, in your eyes, virtue and innocence are the merest -folly." - -"Ah! you are not polite, monsieur. But as I have never known you to be -either virtuous or innocent, I may be permitted to express surprise at -your virtuous qualities, which are entirely unfamiliar to me." - -"I am not trying to make myself out any better than I am, and I confess -to you frankly that I attempted to triumph over this girl; but her -resistance was so natural, her tears so genuine, her entreaties so -touching, that I was really deeply moved and almost repented of what I -had tried to do." - -"That is magnificent; and I presume that the virtuous and innocent -orange girl came to your rooms in order that her resistance might be the -better appreciated.--Ha! ha! what a fairy tale!" - -"You may believe what you choose. It is none the less true that Nicette -is virtuous and that she isn't an orange girl." - -"Oh! pardon me, monsieur, if I have unintentionally slighted your -charmer. Mademoiselle Nicette probably sells herring at the March des -Innocents?" - -"No, mademoiselle; she sells nothing but flowers." - -"Flowers! Why, that is superb! Ah! so she's a flower girl! I am no -longer surprised at your consideration for her." - -"She certainly deserves more consideration than many women who wear -fashionable bonnets." - -"Or who make them, eh?" - -"The argument is even stronger as to them." - -"Monsieur is vexed because I venture to doubt the virtuous morals of a -girl who comes, very innocently no doubt, to sleep with a young man, who -has himself turned Cato in twenty-four hours! Look you, Eugne, I don't -care what you say, it isn't possible." - -"I shall say nothing more, because I attach no value to your opinion." - -"Again! No matter, let's make peace; and I will believe, if it will give -you pleasure, that your friend was the Maid of Orleans." - -Mademoiselle Agathe came to me and kissed me; she was almost on my -knees; she embraced me very lovingly, and I believe that it rested with -me to betray my successor, but I had no desire so to do. My mind was -still full of Nicette; I was angry with the woman who refused to believe -in her innocence and virtue, and who made sport of my heroic behavior. -When one has had to make such a mighty effort to do a good deed, the -person who seeks to rob us of our satisfaction therein is always -unwelcome. So that I received Mademoiselle Agathe's caress very coolly. - -At that, the young milliner took offence in her turn, although she loved -me no more than I loved her; probably she had never loved me; but in -many people self-esteem takes the place of love and, of itself alone, -gives birth to jealousy. Agathe put on her shawl, which she had laid -aside when she came in, tied her bonnet strings, and gave me a courtesy -accompanied by a smile in which she tried to cast an expression of -irony, but in which anger and vexation were clearly marked. - -"Adieu, monsieur! I understand that the events of last night must have -fatigued you; you need rest, and a little solitude; I leave you to dream -at your leisure of the brilliant conquest which will furnish you with -constant enjoyment from this time on! I beg you to be good enough to -give my address to Mademoiselle _de_ Nicette; I shall be delighted to -have her custom, in case she should think of changing her style of -dress; unless, however, you intend to take her under your protection in -that modest gown. I can understand that, to a sensitive and loving -heart, the round cap of virtue is preferable to the toque of frivolity." - -And Mademoiselle Agathe took her leave, humming: - - "'When one knows how to love and please, - What else need one desire?'" - - - - -VII - -A WORD ABOUT MYSELF - - -Agathe had been gone for a long while, and I was still in my study, -thinking of the past evening and night. Somebody opened the door of my -apartment: it was my concierge, Madame Dupont, coming to put my room to -rights, as usual. As she came in, the good soul did not fail to glance -at everything within range; and a woman will see more at a glance than -we men can see in fifteen minutes. - -Fool that I was! I had forgotten to put the couch where it belonged! -that wretched Agathe was responsible for that! But when all was said and -done, I was master in my own apartment; I could arrange my furniture as -I pleased. I was not in the habit of talking with my concierge, and -Madame Dupont knew it. Nevertheless, I noticed that she hovered about me -and tried to enter into conversation. - -"It looks as though 'twill be a lovely day; that's very lucky, seeing -it's Sunday; there are so many people who don't have any other day for -an outing!" - -"Yes," I assented, "it is very fortunate." - -"Ah! monsieur has moved his furniture, I see. Does monsieur mean to -leave this couch in his study?" - -"No; you may put it back where it belongs; I'll help you." - -"I see; monsieur has been trying an experiment?" - -"Yes, it was an experiment." - -"That's like my daughter, who's forever moving her son's cradle from one -place to another. Last night, she put it beside the bed; but my -son-in-law wouldn't have it there, because the child's nearly four years -old, and it is embarrassing for a husband and wife, when---- Why, your -bed's hardly tumbled at all, monsieur!" - -"I suppose that I didn't move much." - -"Monsieur has already breakfasted, apparently? Monsieur was hungry -earlier to-day than usual." - -I made no reply, but dressed to go out, being impatient to leave the -house. Madame Dupont stooped and picked up something, which she brought -to me with a mischievous air. - -"Here's a little cross _ la_ Jeannette, monsieur, that I just found -beside your bed." - -"Ah! give it to me, Madame Dupont, give it to me; I know what it is, I -bought it yesterday. I have got to send it to someone; it's to go into -the country, to our farmer's daughter." - -"It's a pretty little cross; but I shouldn't think it was new." - -"You don't know what you're talking about, Madame Dupont." - -And I hastily put the cross in my pocket, to hide it from the glances of -that accursed concierge, who, finding that I no longer replied to her, -talked on all alone, in order to keep the conversation alive. - -"They say the girl was very pretty, and that she was crying! That's a -strange thing." - -"What girl are you talking about?" - -"A little thing--a sort of--faith! I don't know just what she was, for I -didn't see her. To be sure, she passed my lodge, but she went by so -quick! brrr! like a bomb!" - -"Who told you anything about her?" - -"Madame Martin, Madame Bertin's cook, who saw her when she went -downstairs to get her milk." - -"Where did the girl come from?" - -"Oh!--I--they--that is--I don't know anything about it, monsieur." - -The tone in which Madame Dupont told me that she knew nothing satisfied -me that she did know a great deal. Raymond had probably tattled to -Madame Martin, and she to the concierge. And then the couch, and the -gilt cross: I had certainly become the byword of the whole house! Madame -Bertin would undoubtedly be the first one to hear about it, and Madame -Bertin was the mother of two pretty daughters, whose esteem I was most -anxious to retain. And yet it was a generous action, a sublime action -when performed by a young man, which was likely to injure me in the -opinion of many people. Ah! how untrustworthy are appearances! - -I was about to put an end to the chatter of my concierge by leaving my -lodgings, when she detained me. - -"By the way, monsieur, I beg your pardon--I quite forgot--I have -something for you." - -"What is it, pray?" - -"I had entirely forgotten it; that girl is on my brain. It's a letter." - -"A letter! who gave it to you?" - -"The postman, monsieur; he brought it last night; you'd gone out, and -when you came home it was very late and I was in bed; for I couldn't -even see you, and that's how it was that----" - -"Morbleu! Madame Dupont, give me the letter, and spare me your -reflections!" - -"Here it is, monsieur." - -I recognized the postmark and the handwriting: it was from my sister, my -dear Amlie. But that reminds me that I ought to have told you before -this who I am, where I come from, and what my business is. I confess -that it never occurred to me; indeed, I should have been quite capable -of going on to the end without giving you any further information, and -my adventures would have been none the less simple in your eyes; for as -I have not to tell of mysteries, murders, abductions, substitution of -children,--which always produces an excellent effect,--promenades in the -galleries of the West, visits to subterranean caverns, moonlight -visions, encounters in murky caves, etc., etc., I shall have nothing to -explain or disentangle for my dnouement, and shall be constrained, in -all probability, to end as simply as I began. - -"But," you will say, "it is always well to know with whom one is -dealing; in fact, it is customary to begin with that."--That is true; -but I care little about doing as others do, and, moreover, it seems to -me that these never-ending stories of births and family anecdotes are -not adapted to afford you much amusement; for that reason, I shall be -very brief. - -My name is Eugne Dorsan; I am of a Parisian family; my father was a -king's attorney [_procureur_]; they say _avou_ now, a title which lends -itself less readily to pleasantry. However, my father was a very -honorable man, so I have always been told, and I have never doubted it. -He earned a great deal of money, to his credit be it said; but he died -young, wherein he made a mistake; especially as his death was the result -of overwork. My mother was left a widow with two children: my sister -Amlie, my senior by a year, and your humble servant. Madame Dorsan was -rich; she was in a position to marry again, but she preferred to retain -her freedom; she was wise both on her own account and on ours; for, in -my opinion, marriage, while a most excellent thing, should be used in -moderation. - -My sister and I received a good education. We made the most of it, -especially my sister, who is naturally amiable, kindly, and gentle, and -whose only aim was to satisfy her teachers, and to demonstrate to her -mother her affection and her obedience. For my part, I am no phoenix, -but I have no glaring faults. My predominant passion is the love which -women arouse in me; but as that passion could not develop in my -childhood, it did not impede my progress. - -My mother had bought a beautiful country estate near Melun, and we spent -the summer there. Our childhood and youth passed away without accident -or trouble, without any important occurrences, and, I may say also, -without sorrow or tribulation. Indeed, what sources of affliction can -one encounter before the age of fifteen, when one is surrounded by -wealthy and generous kindred? - -How I pity the poor wretches reared in poverty by parents whom -misfortune often makes stern and unfeeling! Even in the days of -innocence, they know the afflictions of maturity; what a pitiable -apprenticeship to life! - -At the age of sixteen my sister married a young man of twenty-four, a -steady, orderly youth and a tremendous worker, who owned a cotton mill -at Melun. Three years after the wedding, our mother died. She had -economized in the interest of her children, and she left us ten thousand -a year each. Amlie, now Madame Dneterre, and her husband took up their -abode in our country house; and I returned to Paris, partly to seek -diversion from my grief at my mother's death, and partly to complete my -acquaintance with the world. - -Six years had passed since then, and I had become so attached to the -seductive capital that I spent only six weeks, in the summer, with my -sister. I had not yet been to her that year, and I assumed that that was -why she was writing to me. That dear sister of mine, knowing that I was -not over-virtuous, was exceedingly anxious that I should marry, in the -hope that that would put an end to my follies; and every summer I found -at her house a new young woman, very pretty and sweet and well bred, -possessed of abundant talents and attractions and a very respectable -dowry. She was presented to me without affectation, but I knew what was -in the air. But, despite the attentions of her parents, the eloquent -sermons from my sister on the joys of wedded life, and the sighs and -sidelong glances of the young lady herself, I took my leave at the end -of six weeks without making a declaration. - -"Patience!" my sister would say to her husband; "next year, I'll find -one who will turn his head, I'll wager." - -"So be it!" Dneterre would reply tranquilly; "we'll put it off till -next year." - -Now, let us read my sister's letter: - - "MY DEAR EUGNE: - - "It is the last of July, and you haven't come to see us yet; can it - be that life in Paris has made you entirely forgetful of the - relations who love you and think constantly of you and your - future?----" - -My future! Oh, yes! that means another marriage on the carpet. What a -mania it is of Amlie's! always trying to induce me to marry! It is -worse than the conventional guardian of comedy. But let us go on: - - "It seems to me that you must be tired of those numerous conquests, - of those gallant adventures, of those women who have no other guide - than pleasure, and who forget you as quickly as they adore - you.----" - -Aha! sarcasm! You are mistaken, my dear sister; I am not tired of making -conquests; those that I make are not all so simple as you think, said I -to myself. But in the provinces people are even more spiteful, more -evil-tongued than in Paris; and since my sister has left the capital, -she takes it upon herself to lecture me. But at heart she is kindness -itself! I cannot be angry with her for constantly thinking of me. But -where was I? - - "As quickly as they adore you. I often hear of you from people who - come here from Paris; I know that you are more heedless than ever, - that you think of nothing but your pleasures, that you deceive all - your mistresses, that they pay you back in your own coin.----" - -How well she divines the truth! it is astonishing! - - "We never hear of any sensible action on your part.----" - -Ah! my dear sister, if you had known the story of the night I had just -passed! And people slander me, and call me a libertine!--But you were -very, very pretty, Nicette! and I was really entitled to great credit -for my self-restraint. - - "I trust, however, that you are not incorrigible. Come to us very - soon. We have pretty women here, too; they are modest and virtuous, - and I should suppose that that would give them an additional - attraction.----" - -Oh, of course! very pretty women! stiff, affected, prudish, or -simpering! And such costumes! In a word, genuine provincials--I need -say no more. As for their virtue, it is possible that--but it is not -safe to trust to appearances, as I know better than most; for I would -have sworn that Nicette was a little wanton. - - "My husband sends a memorandum of a few errands he would like you - to do for him. He is organizing grand fishing parties for your - visit, and I look forward with delight to the prospect of embracing - you. - - "AMLIE DNETERRE." - -I determined to go to Melun--in a few days. There were several business -matters that I must first attend to. Moreover, I should be very glad to -know what Nicette was going to do; I was deeply interested in that young -woman, and I did not propose to lose sight of her. - -I left my apartment and was going downstairs; but I could not resist my -desire to speak to my neighbor Raymond. I wished to thank him for his -discretion. I rang at his door; no one answered, but I heard a noise -within. I rang again, and that time the bellrope remained in my hand. He -did not open the door. I felt sure that he had bored a hole in his door -and had seen that it was I. No matter: he could not always avoid me; -meanwhile, that he might know that it was I who had broken his bellrope, -I tied it to my own. - -I went downstairs at last; and on the first floor I met Madame Bertin -and her two daughters, going to mass. - -I bowed; they returned my bow, but with a frigid air very different from -the amiable greeting they were accustomed to bestow on me. The two young -ladies stood aside without raising their eyes, and the mother's face -wore a glacial expression that made me afraid to speak to her. - -"This is the result of the infernal chatter of Raymond and Madame Martin -and the concierge," I thought; "these ladies know that Nicette passed -the night in my rooms; that is to say, the mamma knows it, and that is -why she ordered her daughters to pass me without raising their eyes, -without smiling, and, above all, without speaking to me." - -But you will tell me, the milliner also used to pass the night in your -rooms. Ah! that was very different. Agathe was dressed like everybody -else, and nobody noticed her; moreover, there were several people in the -house for whom she made hats; and no one ever knew certainly whom she -was going to see. So that I was able to retain Madame Bertin's good -graces, and was admitted to her society, when Mademoiselle Agathe -honored me with her favors. And now I was tabooed because Nicette, the -pretty flower girl, had passed the night in my rooms. And you know how -it all came about. But the world is made that way; it judges by the -exterior before it knows what is within. Be whatever you choose, but -observe the proprieties; save appearances, and you will be received -everywhere. - -These reflections made me angry. I left the house, cursing those people -who see everything in the same light and refuse to depart from the -narrow circle that custom has marked out. I paced the streets angrily, I -dined angrily, I drank my coffee angrily, and my frame of mind had not -changed when, finding myself at the foot of the Champs-lyses, I sat -down in a chair, the back of which was against a large tree. - - - - -VIII - -THE MAGIC LANTERN - - -I had been sitting against the tree for some time; the darkness had -dispersed some of the saunterers; and those who remained plunged deeper -into the cross paths, seeking, as it seemed, by preference the darkest -and least-frequented spots. Doubtless they had their reasons for that. I -do not know precisely what I was thinking about, when I heard heavy -steps approach and stop behind me. I turned and saw a man carrying what -we call a magic lantern. He set his apparatus down against the tree; he -had not seen me, or did not notice me. He lighted his lantern to exhibit -his pictures, whereupon I at once thought of Florian's monkey; the -reminiscence made me laugh, and I prepared to listen to the owner of the -lantern, although I feared that the comparison would be unfavorable to -him. - -I heard him mutter between his teeth as he arranged his lights: - -"Ah! the hussy! the rascal! where has she been these three hours, since -she left me on the pretext of going to feed the brat? She's playing some -game on me. If it wasn't a show day, how quickly I'd drop the whole -business!--Never mind, Madame Trousquin, I'll find a way to solve my -doubts; and if I see anything crooked, there'll be a sharp and effective -reckoning!" - -The poor man was evidently jealous; he swore and stamped and glared from -side to side, but Madame Trousquin did not appear. By way of -compensation, the gleam of the magic lantern attracted a girl and a -young soldier, the latter of whom took his seat close beside the former, -bidding the showman to close the curtain around them. He enveloped them -in an old blue or gray sheet,--it was impossible to distinguish the -color,--and I could not help thinking that a magic lantern may be at -times a very great convenience. - -Pre Trousquin began his performance, interrupting himself frequently to -swear at his wife, who did not return; and I listened attentively, -although I could see nothing, not being under the curtain; but I had an -idea that the spectators for whom the pictures were being explained were -not looking at them. - -"First of all, messieurs and mesdames, you see the sun, the moon, the -stars, and the little fishes. Farther on, the products of the soil, such -as trees, vegetables, animals, caves, waterfalls, rattlesnakes. Pray -examine Monsieur Sun, whom you can't look at because he's so bright; and -Madame Moon, who is full because she's in her first quarter. See those -stars, how fast they travel, as if the devil was carrying 'em -off!--Three hours to put Fifi to bed! Ah! the slut! how I'll make her -dance to-night!--See Venus, glistening like a pinchbeck pin! See the -shepherd's star! The shepherd Tircis, I suppose, seeing what his -reputation is. And there's the Three Kings, who are always together. And -the Chariot, that travels like those you see in the mountains of Russia. -And Mercury and Jupiter. And the Virgin and the Twins. And the Bull and -the Goat. Anybody can understand about them. Do you see the Scales? Do -you see the Scorpion?--a wicked beast he is! All these, messieurs and -mesdames, are planets that determine the nervous _infections_ of the -people born under their _affluence_. The planet Venus is for wanton -women, the Shepherd for good-looking youths, the Three Kings for heroes, -the Chariot for coachmen, Jupiter for roistering blades, Mercury for -apothecaries, the Virgin for little girls, and the Goat for many worthy -gentlemen whom you know. Observe, messieurs and mesdames, in the middle -of that great black cloud, full of stars, between the Bear and the Ram, -you'll see a big, hairy comet, with a tail longer than a fox's. That -brilliant meteor has in all ages announced the end of the world; with -its tail or its head it is capable of overturning our globe, which is -held in place only by a thread, and broiling us all like chestnuts." - -At this point, a movement under the curtain led me to surmise that the -comet had aroused great curiosity. - -"One moment, messieurs and mesdames, and you'll see what you will see." - -Pre Trousquin pulled a cord to change the picture, and, after several -very emphatic oaths, resumed his explanation, not changing his voice a -quarter of a tone. - -"This, messieurs and mesdames, shows you the interior of the palace of -the great Kin-Kin-Li-King, Emperor of China and King of all the Pekins. -You perceive him seated in his beautiful gilt armchair of state, in full -ceremonial costume, surrounded by learned mandarins and national -guardsmen. He is giving a public audience and receiving petitions from -all the Chinese of the suburbs. Observe, in a corner, that father -leaning on his daughter and a bamboo stick; he has come to demand -justice upon a seducer who has made that poor innocent creature the -mother of five little children, and who feeds them on blows alone. See, -messieurs, how the ill-fated father's features gleam with wrath and -indignation; read the sorrow, pain, and repentance in the girl's eyes. -That man just to the left, wrapped in a brown cloak, with only his nose -visible, is the seducer, awaiting his condemnation. See how pale and -cadaverous his face is, how hollow his eyes, and how tremulous his gait; -well he knows that he will not be let off cheap. Farther on, in the -background----" - -A stout female appeared at this juncture, panting for breath, and -interrupted the explanation of the picture. I presumed that it was -Madame Trousquin, and the dialogue that ensued between her and the owner -of the lantern proved to me that my conjecture was well founded. - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -Ah! here you are at last, you cursed street walker!--Farther away, in -the background--(_To his wife._) You'll pay me for this, that's all I've -got to say to you!--Farther away, in the background, that wretched -creature whom the guards are taking away, and who is struggling and -writhing as if he had the colic, is a deserter, who has just deserted -and was going to the enemy's camp on treason bent; his business will -soon be settled; he'll be shot and then hung. - - -MADAME TROUSQUIN. (_during her husband's explanation_). - -Hoity-toity! what are you making so much noise about? Didn't I have to -put Fifi to bed and make the soup? And I'd like to know if it ain't a -good, long walk from the Champs-lyses to Rue Jean-Pain-Mollet! - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -You lie, I tell you; you went off at five o'clock, and here it is nine. -Where in the devil have you been? Pull the cord. - -Madame Trousquin placed on a stool a bowl which she had under her apron, -then assumed her post on that side of the lantern from which the change -of pictures was operated. - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -This, messieurs and mesdames, represents a view of Athens, in -Greece.--(_To his wife._) Put my soup on the charcoal and tell me where -you've been. - - -MADAME TROUSQUIN. - -Why, I've been at home, I tell you, you jealous fool! I met Anglique -and talked with her a minute. Have you much of an audience? - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -Observe the beauty of the sky and water. Observe the palaces, the -columns and temples, built by the Romans; note those magnificent -statues, of which but few fragments remain. See that circus, in which -they used to hold bull fights, to train the young men to be -strong.--(_To his wife._) I'm satisfied that you've been gallivanting -with Grugeon.--See, in the distance, the famous Partiates fighting with -their fists like Englishmen, and playing the game of Siam with a large -roulette table.--(_To his wife._) He asked you to take a glass of beer -in a private room.--That handsome young man you see at the right is -Alcibiades, with Socrates, his teacher, who is teaching him things he -don't know. - -While I listened I saw the curtain move more violently, and I heard the -girl say in an undertone: - -"Oh! how stupid! Ah! how stupid! I tell you I won't!" - -Pre Trousquin motioned to his wife to pull the cord, and resumed his -harangue. - -"This, messieurs and mesdames, is taken from mythology; it is the -magnificent Judgment of Solomon, called the Wise, who is preparing to -carve a little child, exactly as if it was a pie. Observe the -consternation of the little one as he awaits his fate, with his legs in -the air; observe the fiendish glee of that shrewish stepmother, who -looks on, dry-eyed, as if someone was going to give her a slice of -rabbit; but observe the grief of the real mother, who seeks to turn -aside the cleaver which already threatens the innocent child's navel." - - -THE YOUNG WOMAN (_under the curtain_). - -Ah! the villain! ah! the villain! he keeps right on. What a stupid! - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -Don't be alarmed, there won't be any cutting done; nature is about to -speak.--(_To his wife._) Give me my soup; I'm hungry.--The mighty -Solomon, looking at the two mothers with Argus eyes, says to -himself--(_To his wife._) In God's name, why don't you get through with -the onions?--"This child cannot have two mothers; if it was two fathers, -that might be, such things have been seen."--(_To his wife._) You know -something about that.--"Now, there's a snake in the grass here; the real -mother's affection manifests itself by a deluge of tears; but this other -vixen of a mother, who's as placid as Baptiste,"--(_To his wife._) It -smells as if it was burned.--"has no maternal entrails; so the case is -decided!"--Pull the cord.--"This, messieurs and mesdames, represents -King David doing battle with the giant Goliath, the terror of the -Philistines."--(_To his wife._) Why don't you look and see if it's -right?--See with what force David hurls the stone that lays the giant in -the dust. - - -MADAME TROUSQUIN. (_looking over the lantern_). - -This ain't the one; you're showing 'em the Battle of Marengo now. - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN.MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -As I was saying, messieurs and mesdames, you see the famous Battle of -Marengo, won by the French troops.--(_To his wife._) You always put in -too many carrots. - - -MADAME TROUSQUIN. - -You don't say! you want to choose your vegetables, do you? You're -getting to be very particular. How much have you made to-day? - - -MONSIEUR TROUSQUIN. - -Eighteen sous.--Note the gunners and the cuirassiers; see how the sabres -play, while the cannonballs meet in mid air and the shells spread fire -and blood on all sides; see the hussars, the dragoons, the trumpets, and -the drums! hear the shrieks of the dead and dying, the moans of the -wounded and vanquished. See that young soldier on the right, defending -his flag with his teeth, because both his arms have been cut off; and at -the left, that officer who has three dead horses upon him, and who -forgets that he is suffocating while he takes aim at the enemy's -general. See the dust, the flame, the smoke, the carnage, and the -corpses that embellish the picture. The action is superb, you see; the -battle waxes hotter and more furious---- - -At this point, the explanation was interrupted by an unforeseen -catastrophe: the young woman and the soldier, who were evidently taking -the liveliest interest in the battle,--for I kept hearing exclamations -from the damsel and energetic monosyllables from her companion,--not -content with moving the curtain, threw themselves violently against the -magic lantern, at the most critical point of the Battle of Marengo. The -shock was so violent that the ambulatory theatre could not sustain it; -it fell backward, and the spectators fell upon it, while the manager of -the establishment was thrown to the ground with his bowl of soup, and -Madame Trousquin was entangled by the cords that she held in each hand. - -I was left standing alone in the midst of the devastation, for my great -tree preserved me from all peril. What a grotesque picture was presented -to my eyes! Solomon and the great Kin-Kin-Li-King were lying in a heap -with the gardens of the Luxembourg and of Athens; the sun no longer -shone, the moon was covered with oil, the comet shorn of its tail. Pre -Trousquin was struggling under his broken lantern, still holding in his -hand the handle of his bowl; and the young woman had fallen in a posture -that disclosed beauty which would have put to shame the most perfect -moon that ever graced a magic lantern. The young soldier's head was in -Pre Trousquin's bowl; his face was covered by carrots and onions; he -seemed to be caught in such a way that he could not extricate himself -from the trap. As for Mre Trousquin, she had fallen gracefully; her -cords had held her up, and the curtain of the lantern concealed what -might have caused her modesty to blush. However, as those who are least -hurt always make the most noise, Madame Trousquin's shrieks were simply -deafening; her husband uttered the most frightful oaths, and the young -woman groaned plaintively. The soldier alone made no outcry; I believe -that he found the soup and vegetables to his liking. All the idlers in -the neighborhood were attracted to the broken lantern by the uproar, the -shrieks and oaths; and I was surrounded in an instant by a crowd of -people who came from I don't know where; for a moment before I could not -see a soul on the Champs-lyses. My retreat was cut off; I could not -make my way out of the crowd; but I was not sorry to see how it would -end. After shouting and swearing to their heart's content, the -unfortunates tried to extricate themselves from the tangle they were in: -the soldier succeeded in uncovering his face, the girl rose and arranged -her skirts. Mre Trousquin disentangled herself from her cords, the -magic lantern was lifted from the ground, and Pre Trousquin struggled -to his feet. The soldier tried to slink away with his companion; but he -could not elude the owner of the lantern, who insisted that he should -pay for the damages. - -"My glasses are smashed," said Pre Trousquin; "you've spoiled my sun -and moon, you've broken my Judgment of Solomon and my Chinese palace, -and ruined my views of Greece; you've got to pay me for all that." - -"Go to the devil!" said the soldier, repairing the disorder of his -costume as best he could. "I won't pay you for anything at all. What do -I care for your Chinese and your Solomon! your sun and moon look just -like the night lights you buy for a sou; and as for your fat, just put -it in your lamps." - -"You broke my lantern, and you've got to pay me for it." - -"You're an old drunkard; if your lantern wasn't firm on its legs, it's -no fault of mine." - -"You tumbled against it during the Battle of Marengo." - -"You threw it over, yourself, trying to imitate cannon." - -"You made me break my bowl." - -"You're responsible for my tearing my breeches." - -"Besides, my lantern is a moral and respectable show, and I don't -propose to have it used for----" - -"I say! stop that, or I'll cut out your tongue!" - -The soldier put his hand to his sword; the crowd instantly made a -backward movement, the girl clung to her friend's arm, and Mre -Trousquin pulled her husband out of range, taking the stool for a -buckler. The two adversaries measured each other with their eyes for -several minutes, without moving. The soldier gave no sign of paying, and -Pre Trousquin did not seem to be in a mood to let him go away until he -had remunerated him for his losses. Thereupon I concluded that there was -but one way to adjust the affair without bloodshed. The magic lantern -episode had amused me, and had entirely dispelled my ill humor; it was -no more than fair that I should act as mediator in the dispute. I alone -had remained near the combatants; for the bystanders held themselves -respectfully aloof from the sword and the stool. I felt in my pocket and -took out two five-franc pieces, which I tossed upon the damaged lantern. - -"There," said I to the proprietor, "is the means to restore your palaces -and your planets; but take my advice, and another time don't fasten your -curtain so closely round your audience. Children's theatres are -frequented now by people of all ages; if you don't believe me, ask -Sraphin, who receives _petite-matresses_ at his show, because of the -darkness in the hall during his arabesque fires." - -Pre Trousquin stared with all his eyes; his wife pounced on the two -coins, and the soldier was allowed to go his way with his companion; -which he did not do without bowing to me most respectfully. - -I too walked away, and turned into Rue de Rivoli. I looked at my watch; -it was only nine o'clock, and I have never been fond of going to bed -early, especially when I am in the mood for amusing myself. As the scene -of the magic lantern had put me in that mood, I determined to encourage -such a desirable disposition. - -How was I to amuse myself? There are thousands of ways in Paris, you -will say; but, in the matter of pleasure, you must never promise -yourself too much, if you wish to have a little. In a large assembly, -for six agreeable people you will find twenty bores; in a small party, -your friends may have business affairs that annoy them; the ladies, sick -headaches or the vapors; and you often pass a very dull hour where you -looked forward to much entertainment. The wisest plan, therefore, is not -to count upon anything. But I remembered that there was a grand fte at -Tivoli. It was nine o'clock; if I took a cab, I should arrive just at -the height of the evening. - - - - -IX - -TIVOLI - - -A lovely spot, that Tivoli Garden! When I stepped within its gates, it -seemed to me that I entered one of those enchanted sojourns so -splendidly described in the _Thousand and One Nights_. The music, the -illuminations, the sports of all sorts, the fireworks--everything -combined to dazzle the eyes and excite the imagination. What a pity it -seemed when a vulgar face and a fishwoman's costume marred the beauty of -the picture and reminded me that I was in a public garden, where any -decently dressed person could enter on payment of three francs twelve -sous! - -Before I had taken twenty steps in the garden, I had seen many things. -What beautiful avenues! How those garlands of fire burst on the sight! -Yonder, people gathered in crowds, gazed at one another, scrutinized -costumes, and sought acquaintances: it was the Boulevard de Gand of -Tivoli. Farther on, the lights became less frequent; an occasional lamp -guided your steps without betraying you. The couples were more widely -scattered; they no longer went about to exhibit themselves; some, -indeed, seemed to try to evade observation, to desire darkness and -mystery. Happy thickets! how often have you sheltered love and pleasure! -how many kisses have been given and received under cover of your dense -foliage! Ah! if you could speak!--But I seemed to hear voices close at -hand; I had thoughtlessly turned my steps in the direction of those -solitary thickets, where I, being alone, had nothing to hope for. As I -circled a clump of shrubs, I saw something white on the grass; a -gentleman and a lady were there, discussing some very weighty and secret -matter no doubt, for I thought that they were whispering to each other. -But my presence disturbed them; the lady, with a little shriek, pushed -her companion away; whereupon I walked quickly in another direction. -What pleasure can there be in interfering with that of other people? - -I determined to go back to the crowd, to leave those thickets, where it -almost angered me to be alone. Once more I was in the bright light. I -heard the rumbling of cars; I was near the mountains which all the women -ascend--the _grande dame_ and the working girl, the milliner and the -modest laundress, the kept woman and the little schoolgirl. What delight -they all seem to take in the descent! And yet, the resistance of the air -disarranges their hair, loosens their hats, and blows their curls all -about; but they submit to that sacrifice for the pleasure of going like -the wind for twenty seconds. Keen enjoyment is depicted on all the faces -in the cars; only an occasional Englishman retains his gravity during -the trip. - -I was alone, so I did not make the ascent; it seemed to me that to enjoy -that pastime you must be seated beside a woman whom you like; then you -may put your arm about a slender waist and press a shapely figure; as -you fly down the incline, you may venture much; for you are sure of not -being repulsed, your companion being so bewildered by the rapidity of -the descent that she has not time to be angry. - -All pleasures turn to the advantage of love. What pleasure is not -increased twofold by the presence of the loved one? In the dance, on the -cars, under the thickets, there must be two to be happy; without a -woman, how can one abandon one's self to the most delicious sensations, -the most loving outpourings of the heart? Only through her do we know -that we have a heart. But enough of these ideas, to which the garden -gave rise! I walked across several squares, attracted by music; it was a -singer. Ah! I did not stop there; if I had, Tivoli would have ceased to -be a place of enchantment. - -Suddenly my eyes fell upon a number of armchairs swinging in the air and -travelling round and round, with ladies seated in them; it was a Russian -swing. Why did all the men walk in that direction and stand, with their -noses in the air and a smile on their faces, watching the chairs turn? -Ah! I saw that the wind lifted the ladies' skirts more or less, so that -one could catch a glimpse of a leg and sometimes of a knee. The game -seemed to amuse the performers as much as the spectators. The ladies -apparently did not realize what it was that absorbed the attention of -the gentlemen, and did not hear the wanton jests in which most of the -latter indulged; for they continued to fly through the air, laughing -like madcaps. But the machine stopped; it was time to alight. I -remained, in order to see the ladies at closer quarters. Mon Dieu! -messieurs, you surely did not need to give yourselves a crick in the -neck to catch a glimpse of an ankle! So far as I could judge, you might -have obtained a sight of a great deal more, without much trouble. I -quitted the Russian swing for Bobche's performance, and found an -enormous crowd in front of the stage. I looked about in vain for a -chair; I could not find one that was unoccupied. So I was compelled to -remain standing. I sidled in among the elect, and I saw something, at -all events, even if I did not see Bobche; I saw the evident enjoyment -of all the young men who, like myself, were standing. And yet they could -not see anything; but they were with ladies who stood on chairs, and -they supported them, to guard against accident; their arms were passed -around the ladies' skirts, and the ladies leaned on their shoulders. I -could understand how pleasant that must be. But I saw one lady who -seemed on the point of falling. Why did nobody support her? Because she -was a matron. But a becurled and befrizzled young woman, who would have -been pretty had not her costume been so absurd for a public garden, -hurried to the elderly lady's side. - -"Wait, mamma," she said; "I'll put my chair behind yours, and then you -can lean on me; I'll hold you up." - -The mother consented to this arrangement, and the young woman remounted -her chair, which she placed behind her mamma's; but I noticed that she -had somebody to support her; a tall, light-haired youngster kept his -eyes on her all the time; he stationed himself close beside her, looked -at her, and made signs to her. The young woman looked at nothing but -Bobche; and as she explained the performance to her mother, she took a -little note from her glove and dropped it into the young man's hand, -without the slightest confusion or affectation, and without interrupting -her conversation. Really, our young ladies display a fascinating grace -in all that they do; the world is progressing toward perfection. - -The tall youth crumpled the note in his hand; he longed to read it at -once, but he dared not. I was amused by his impatience; I was curious -to see what he would do. But an elderly couple arrived, dragging their -chairs after them; the woman planted herself directly in front of me, -almost resting against my face, while her husband deprived me of what -little view I had by standing beside her. - -I could endure it no longer; to induce me to remain with my head on a -level with the waists of all that multitude, I felt that something -deeply interesting was necessary. I was not at all desirous to maintain -my juxtaposition to the enormous circumference which obscured my vision. -So I extricated myself, not without difficulty, from the chairs and legs -and dresses that surrounded me. When I was outside the circle, I stopped -to breathe a bit; it is good to inhale the fresh air when one has seen -Bobche, even out of doors. - -I followed a noble avenue of lindens which led to the large tract of -grass set aside for swings and seesaws and blind-man's-buff and the -Egyptian bird, and a thousand other things, of which the prettiest are -those one does not see. I heard ladies' voices imploring their escorts -not to go so fast; while the latter, to display their strength and -skill, made all the play they could with their loins and knees, at the -risk of making their companions in the swings swoon from fright: that -was a new way to make one's self agreeable, I thought. - -I heard the voice of lamentation near by. It was a small boy of twelve -or thirteen years, who wanted to seesaw with a tall lout of eighteen at -least. No sooner had the latter gone to the ground on his end of the -plank which served as a tilt, than the little fellow at the other end -received a violent shock that threw him over the little iron bar behind -which stood those awaiting their turn. The poor child fell; luckily, it -was on the soft turf, and he was not hurt; but he limped away, while the -tall zany plumed himself on the shaking-up he had given him. A very -pretty game is this seesawing; but I should advise those who indulge in -it to have the ground mattressed; for I know by experience that falls -are frequent and dangerous. - -But what was that report? It brought me involuntarily to a standstill. -Was I near a display of fireworks? No; the Egyptian bird had just been -set off. How proud the man seemed who had done the trick! To be sure, it -was only the eleventh time that he had fired. A stout party seized the -wire. I recognized him: it was Raymond. I should have been astonished -not to fall in with him, for the fellow was everywhere. - -"I'll bet," he said in a bantering tone to the man who had just fired, -taking pains to raise his voice in order to attract attention, "I'll -bet, my dear fellow [he knows everybody], that I release the spring in -three shots." - -"I'll bet you don't; it isn't so easy as you seem to think." - -"Easy! easy! if it was easy, there'd be no merit in it. I have an -absolutely accurate eye. Come, I'll bet you an ice." - -"That you do it in three trials?" - -"Yes; in fact, I'm certain that I shan't have to try three times." - -"I'll take your bet." - -"All right; now you'll see." - -I halted, feeling perfectly certain, for my part, that my neighbor would -make a fool of himself in some way. The man who managed the machine was -reloading the iron box to which the spring was attached. - -"Get out of the way!" cried Raymond, impatient to display his skill, and -raising the bird as high in the air as his arms allowed. - -The box was closed and the man stepped aside; Raymond threw the bird -with such accuracy that the piece of iron, after following a zigzag -course, struck six inches from the target. My neighbor was not -discouraged, but threw the bird again--with no better success. - -"It's all out of equilibrium," he cried; "the wire's crooked, it isn't -my fault." - -"This is your last shot." - -"Oh! this one will do the business." - -Raymond took aim for at least three minutes; at last the bird flew -through the air. It finished its flight; but there was no report. - -"I've won! I've won!" cried Raymond's adversary; "you owe me an ice." - -"Oh! I don't know whether you've won or not; that depends. I am sure -that the bird's beak moved the spring, and the reason it didn't go off -must be that the powder's damp." - -"You're trying to crawl out of it! you've lost, and you owe me an ice!" - -"Well! I demand my revenge!" - -"Oh! that's fair enough; I agree. That will make two ices instead of -one." - -"We'll see about that. I say, my man, just go and overhaul the spring; -I'm sure there's something out of order that prevented the thing from -going off." - -To please his customer, the man opened the box and examined it. -Meanwhile, my neighbor had taken the bird; and, annoyed at having lost -his first bet, he scrutinized the iron beak, measured it with his eye, -and tried to make sure that the bird was perfectly balanced, lifting it -carefully by the two wings. - -"I see what the matter is, I see what it is," he said confidently; "if I -had examined it like this before, I shouldn't have missed a shot. You -must hold the bird very lightly, with the tips of your fingers, and -throw it without any jerk." - -As he spoke, Monsieur Raymond threw the bird, which struck the head of -the unfortunate man who was looking to see if the spring was in perfect -order. The poor man was seriously wounded; he fell to the ground with -horrible yells, and everybody ran toward him. Monsieur Raymond took -advantage of the confusion to escape. He forced a passage through the -crowd, pushing everybody aside with his arms and elbows; he leaped over -chairs, ran like a madman through the groups seated on the grass, -tripped over the legs of a _petite-matresse_ who was chatting -unconcernedly with a young officer, fell heavily upon her, and with his -stomach crushed a bust that luckily was made of tulle. The lady -shrieked, in order to make people think that it was her flesh that was -flattened out; and the officer sprang to his feet, in a rage at the -disappearance of charms which he had believed to be genuine. He seized a -chair and pursued Raymond, who was already far away; for fear lent him -wings. - -I amused myself by following my neighbor, who had lost his hat in the -scuffle. I saw him running on and getting into fresh difficulty every -minute; he ran into a swing, collided with the wooden horses, overturned -two girls who were dancing in a little open space, knocked over all the -tubs of shrubs that came in his way, and finally, to elude his pursuers, -rushed out into the main avenue, hoping to lose himself in the crowd. -But as he passed under a garland of colored lanterns, which was not far -enough from the ground and hung down a little at the sides, Monsieur -Raymond, trying to outstrip everybody, became entangled in the -illuminations; the rope broke, and all the little colored lanterns fell -on the promenaders, who, in an instant, were smeared with oil. The -ladies uttered heartrending shrieks when they saw their toques, their -feathers, and their gowns dripping with lamp oil; nor were the young men -less enraged, for their coats and waistcoats and frills were all ruined, -and diffused an execrable odor. Once more Raymond found himself the -object of general animadversion, and the poor devil, panting for breath, -was obliged to continue his flight. He leaped over a hedge, in order to -get away from the avenue more quickly; he did not know where to go; and -he finally entered the enclosure set apart for the fireworks, despite -the shouts of an old pensioner who told him that he could not go there. -He rushed through the bombs, mortars, rockets, pinwheels, and Roman -candles, while the pensioner shouted for the gendarmes to come to arrest -a man who was smashing everything he saw and seemed determined to -prevent the pyrotechnic display that was in preparation. The police -arrived; Raymond had barely time to hurl himself through a transparency, -which he burst with his head; at last he disappeared. Tranquillity was -restored; the damage that my neighbor had done was repaired as far as -possible; and I returned toward the centre of activity, laughing at -Raymond's mishaps, which had afforded me abundant satisfaction for his -petty mischief-making that morning. - -"Faith!" I said to myself, as I walked toward the dancing enclosure; "if -I had come to Tivoli for no other purpose than to witness Raymond's -prowess, my evening would have been a great success. But I am in a lucky -vein; perhaps fate has other meetings in store for me." - -I paused near a juggler's booth; the crowd was as large as in front of -Bobche's; but there was somewhat less confusion. Most of the spectators -were seated, and I succeeded, although I was in the last row, in seeing -a part of what was going on; the man did tricks with cards, stole rings, -and changed a glass of wine into a bouquet. All this delighted the -audience, who made no attempt to detect his confederates, and pretended -not to see the preparations which are essential for tricks performed -_without preparation_. - -"He's a magician!" said a little man, opening his eyes to their fullest -extent and looking stupidly about him. "Faith! I can't understand it, -can you, wife?" - -"Oh! I want to see for myself," replied the little man's better half; -and she motioned to the juggler that she wanted to draw a card. He -approached, chattering in Italian, German, and English, the result being -an utterly incomprehensible jargon which completely enchanted the -audience. - -The lady drew an eight of spades, which she then replaced in the pack -and shuffled the cards; but our magician was certain of guessing the -card, because the pack he offered her contained eights of spades and -nothing else; and while he bewildered his hearers by his constant -jabbering, he slipped his hand behind the little man, who, when another -trick was being performed, was suddenly requested to rise, and was -stupefied to find under him the card that his wife had drawn. - -I walked away from the sleight-of-hand booth; but, happening to put my -hand in my pocket, I failed to find my handkerchief. That trick was -better than any of the juggler's; it had been done very adroitly; -luckily, I was not wearing my watch seal. - -Behold me at last before the enclosure consecrated to the dance. But it -was no longer good form to dance in the public gardens; only at village -ftes did our young Parisian exquisites condescend to execute a balance -and a ladies' chain in the open air. Here, none but hucksters, petty -bourgeoises, and grisettes dare to abandon themselves to the joys of the -dance; they know nothing of conventions, of good form; they want to -enjoy themselves, and they are so happy when dancing! their pleasure is -depicted on their faces! they hop and skip with such hearty good will! -By the faces of the fair damsels who were watching the dancers I could -see that good form is sometimes very ill-humored; but they avenged -themselves by criticising those who defied convention. They sneered and -laughed at the others, and made unkind remarks; good form and propriety -never forbid that. They ridiculed everything that they could not do; -they spoke slightingly of what in their hearts they loved: it was the -fable of the fox and the grapes again. - -But the spectators were most numerous around one particular quadrille; -the dancers were surrounded by a triple row. I was certain that there -must be some unusually pretty face there, or some particularly absurd -costume. I approached and succeeded in forcing my way to the front. I -looked at one of the dancers: she had an insignificant face and a -commonplace dress; she could not be the object of such universal -curiosity. - -"She is mighty pretty." - -"Oh! you wait till you see how gracefully she dances!" - -These remarks were made by two young men who stood near me. Thereupon I -glanced over the different performers in the quadrille, and my eyes soon -rested on a young woman wearing a little cap with a bunch of roses on -it. - -I admired the young woman's piquant face; her eyes were animated by the -excitement of dancing; her enjoyment made her bosom rise and fall more -rapidly, and the flattering murmur that arose on all sides brought a -vivid flush to her cheeks. What woman is insensible to praise? Did you -ever meet one who was, reader? If so, I advise you to register her name -on your tablets. - -But, as I scrutinized the pretty dancer, a sudden reminiscence flashed -through my mind: those features, that figure, the bunch of roses, and -the plan of coming to Tivoli. Unquestionably it was Mademoiselle -Caroline; it was my little flowermaker of the preceding evening. -Thoughtless fool that I was! I had forgotten her, and had been strolling -about the garden without trying to find her! But since chance had -brought me into her presence, I determined to make the most of it, and, -good form or not, to try to obtain a dance with her, so that I might -speak with her. - -But suppose that anybody who knew me should see me dancing at Tivoli! I -felt brave enough to defy the criticism and mockery of the young men and -the pleasantry of the ladies; and as I contemplated Caroline's seductive -features, I said to myself, with Rousseau: "I must be happy! 'tis man's -first need!"--Now, to be happy, it was necessary first of all that I -should dance with Caroline. - - - - -X - -THE FIREWORKS.--THE FORTUNE TELLER.--THE SILHOUETTE STUDIO - - -The contradance came to an end, and the men escorted their partners to -their seats. I followed my little flowermaker with my eyes, and saw her -take her seat beside a plainly dressed old woman, evidently her aunt. -Her partner remained by her side; he was the Jules of the preceding -evening. In due time, another girl came up with her partner and sat -beside Caroline; this completed the party, which, as I remembered, was -to consist of four persons. - -I walked back and forth in the neighborhood of Mademoiselle Caroline and -her friends for a long while; I passed before the group and stared at -the pretty creature; but she paid no attention to me. I saw that I must -make up my mind to invite her to dance, but I had difficulty in doing -it; for I felt that I should look like a petty shop-clerk who was in the -habit of going to Tivoli to dance on Sundays. While I was making these -reflections, the orchestra played the prelude; that decided me, and I -walked toward the young women. But just as I was on the point of -delivering my invitation, the pretty flowermaker rose and gave her hand -to a young man, who had got the start of me, and who led her out to -dance. I had arrived too late; so much for listening to my absurd -self-esteem! However, I swore that I would not be behindhand for the -next contradance; and for fear of being defrauded again, I hastened to -the quadrille in which Mademoiselle Caroline was performing, and then -and there engaged her for the next one. She accepted, and I was -overjoyed; I stood near her, mingling my words of praise with those of -several other young men; and while her partner was executing the _avant -deux_, I complimented her on her bunch of roses and apologized for my -awkwardness of the previous evening. At that, she looked up at me and -smiled, and took more notice of me; I had reason to believe that her -scrutiny did not result to my disadvantage. From time to time, I -ventured a word or two to the effect that I had come to Tivoli solely in -the hope of meeting her; she did not reply, but I saw that she listened; -if she were ever so little of a coquette, I felt sure of making my way! -And she was, she must be; for all women are. The dance at an end, I -impatiently awaited the following one, when I should be able to talk -with Caroline, and it would be easy for me to find out how far I might -hope. In the briefest interview I can generally tell what manner of -person I have to do with, and I rarely make a mistake; not that I -believe all that they say to me, but I divine how much hope they are -willing to give me. Women, being more expansive than men, have a certain -_laisser aller_ which says a great deal to one who is accustomed to deal -with them. When they have wit, a mere hint discloses it; when they have -nothing but jargon, they murder you with it; when they have nothing to -say, there is no possibility of mistake. Montaigne said: "Style makes -the man;" I think that he might well have said also: "Conversation makes -the woman;" but I beg his pardon for presuming to express my opinion in -conjunction with his. - -Mademoiselle Caroline was escorted to her seat. While waiting for the -next contradance, which would furnish me with the means of judging her -more accurately, I strolled through the thickets that surrounded the -dancing enclosure. I preferred not to remain like a noodle beside the -little flowermaker, nor to parade up and down in front of her. But the -moment drew near when I might hope to squeeze her tiny fingers and press -her hand tenderly in mine. Give me the dance for lovers! you can boldly -reveal your secret sentiments, you can declare them without speaking a -word. I am inclined to think that that is why the young women have so -great a fondness for that exercise and enjoy themselves so heartily at -balls. How many avowals have been made and reciprocated while forming a -ladies' chain or a trenise! and despite their active surveillance, their -mammas are powerless to prevent that. - -But the time passed; I strolled back toward my partner. Mon Dieu! what a -noise! what an uproar! what confusion in the garden! The first bomb had -just been fired, and everybody was running toward the great central -square, dragging their chairs, or carrying them in their arms. - -"The fireworks! the fireworks!" people shouted on all sides. - -What a rush! In heaven's name, had they never seen fireworks before in -their lives? How they pushed and jostled and fought, to pass one -another! What a hurly-burly! But what had become of Caroline? I hurried -to the dancing enclosure--it was deserted; everybody had abandoned it -for the fireworks. Where my pretty grisette had been sitting, I saw two -men fighting for a chair, pulling it in opposite directions; each of -them finally carried away half, which must have been exceedingly -useful. I was not in luck with Mademoiselle Caroline; she disappeared at -the moment that I was going to join her. However, I did not lose all -hope; I assumed that she had gone to see the fireworks, and I determined -to try to find her there. - -I walked in the direction that the crowd had taken; but at the sight of -that moving mass, one half of which concealed the other,--for some had -climbed upon the chairs, while others clung to the frames,--I felt that -it would be absurd to look for anyone there. So I resigned myself to -wait until the display was over; perhaps the dancing would be renewed -then, and I should see her again. Meanwhile, I walked around the -outskirts of the crowd, and saw almost as much of the fireworks as those -who stood on their chairs. I also observed several couples, who, instead -of joining the crowd, went in the opposite direction and concealed -themselves in the obscure shrubbery; they evidently had not come to -Tivoli for the fireworks; but I am convinced, none the less, that they -had been waiting impatiently for them to begin, and that the display -would afford them as much pleasure as those who waited for it with their -noses in the air. - -There was a set piece representing Ixion crushed by the thunderbolts of -Jupiter; and I heard a gentleman explaining it to his family, while he -supported his wife and held up his little girl, who shrieked at every -explosion. - -"Who's that tall man in a red cloak riding horseback on a bird?" -inquired the child. - -"That's Jupiter, my dear, on a bird-of-paradise." - -"And what's that stick he's shaking in his hand?" - -"That's his thunderbolt to whip men who aren't good." - -"Oh! yes; like my school teacher's switch." - -"Who was this Ixion, my dear?" queried his better half. - -"A Roman, I believe. Wait and let me think. Oh, yes! he's the one that -wanted to drive Jupiter's chariot. He'll be struck by lightning, as -you'll see." - -"What does that mean, my dear?" - -"That means that he'll be thrown into that big hole, which is hell, and -once there----" - -"Oh, yes! I understand; then he'll be struck by lightning; quite right, -too." - -"Oh! oh! oh! I'm afraid!" cried a little boy, who had hidden under the -chairs. - -"Hush, Octave! if you squirm so, you'll make us fall. I won't bring you -to Tivoli again; you're too big a coward. For shame! a big boy, nine -years old, who plays with my national guardsman's cap all day long, and -don't dare to look at a rocket!" - -At that moment a mortar burst with a great noise, and Octave gave a leap -which overturned his mother's chair; she fell, dragging with her her -husband and daughter, the latter of whom tried to save herself by -clinging to a gentleman's coat; which coat, being decidedly old, could -not stand the strain; the skirt remained in the child's hand, and the -owner began to shout _thief_! thinking that somebody had stolen his -handkerchief, and unable to find even his pocket. At the same instant -there was a more deafening and more prolonged report; innumerable bursts -of flame darted in all directions, twisting and writhing like serpents, -dazzling the eye and filling the garden momentarily with a magical, -supernatural brilliancy, as if the whole expanse were on fire; but the -noise, the glare, and the false daylight lasted but a moment; a few -rocket sticks, cartridges, and the dbris of bombs fell in the garden, -and in many instances upon the sightseers, spreading terror and -confusion among them. I saw one lady whose hat was burned, another whose -shawl was riddled with little holes made by the sparks from a rocket; -and it seemed to me that that was paying rather dear for the pleasure of -witnessing a display of fireworks. I turned away, well pleased not to -have received a splash from the pyrotechnic drama, but greatly surprised -that I had not seen my neighbor Raymond in some transparency; for, -having lost sight of him among the preparations for the display, I -expected to see him appear during the final discharge. - -I returned to the dancing enclosure. My invited partner was not there; I -was compelled, therefore, to abandon all hope of finding Caroline. I -watched the throng of honest bourgeois, who, as soon as the last of the -fireworks was discharged, set off for their firesides, content with -their evening's enjoyment, which was to last them throughout the week. I -strolled at random along the avenues, where the colored lanterns were -beginning to flicker and grow dim. Suddenly I heard a little bell, and, -although the hearty laughter of some young people near by, the -whispering of the ladies, and the distant sound of the dance dispelled -all possible illusion touching the reality of the hermitage, I went up -none the less to the abode of the so-called sorcerer, who, with the -assistance of a long beard, a wand, a pointed hat, a gray frock, and a -horn three feet long, undertook to tell fortunes at a very moderate -price. - -Young girls have always had a great fondness for having their fortunes -told. Those who are inexperienced are consumed with the longing to know -whether a handsome dark young man or a pretty blond will come soon to -tell them something; those who are not novices are anxious to be -informed as to the fidelity of their lovers, and at the same time to -know whether other men are in love with them; the pretty ones know that -they will make conquests, the ill-favored delude themselves concerning -their charms; desire arouses hope in all, and all are content. I was -agreeably surprised to see my young flowermaker awaiting her turn to -have her fortune told. I walked toward her; she saw me and blushed; that -was a good sign. But her aunt and Monsieur Jules were close by; I could -not speak to her. An idea came into my mind while the soothsayer was -finishing his sance with the young woman who was with Caroline. I took -out my tablets,--a forehanded man always carries them,--withdrew to a -lamp post, and with a lead pencil scrawled a most passionate and -appealing declaration, which was utterly devoid of sense, but would -flatter the girl, I felt sure. - -Then I rejoined the curious onlookers, taking care to get close to the -soothsayer. Caroline had taken her friend's place, and the magic horn -was already applied to her ear, when I pulled the sorcerer's frock; I -pointed to my note, on which I had laid a five-franc piece. He put out -his hand and grasped it; those fellows readily understand one's meaning. -All this was done without attracting the attention of the bystanders. -Mademoiselle Caroline was told a thousand pleasant things, no doubt, for -she laughed like a madwoman; at times she seemed perturbed and -surprised, and glanced furtively at me. I was sure that the soothsayer -was talking about me; that knave knew his business; I heartily commend -him to the sex. At last he took the girl's hand and handed her her -horoscope, slipping my note into her hand at the same time, and bidding -her to postpone reading it until she went to bed. It seemed to me that -Mademoiselle Caroline understood, for she thrust the paper into her -bosom before joining her aunt. - -At last she went away with her whole party, and I did not follow her. I -had an idea that my hermit could tell me all that I wanted to know; for -he had spoken to her in an undertone, and she had replied many times by -the medium of the horn. - -My man came to me and led me into his hermitage, where he dashed into -the subject at once, without waiting for me to question him. - -"Her name's Caroline." - -"I know it." - -"She makes flowers." - -"I know that too." - -"She's eighteen years old." - -"So I should think." - -"She hasn't any lover." - -"So I hoped." - -"She means to remain virtuous." - -"I doubt it." - -"She has noticed you." - -"I think it likely." - -"She is attracted to you." - -"I am glad to hear it." - -"She works on Rue Sainte-Apolline, from eight in the morning till eight -in the evening." - -"That is all I want to know." - -I rewarded the invaluable soothsayer and returned to the garden, which -was beginning to be deserted. I walked in the direction of the exit, -enchanted to know at last where I could find Mademoiselle Caroline. - -As I passed before a silhouette booth, I imagined that I heard a voice -which was not unfamiliar to me. I stopped. People were disputing in the -small oiled-paper studio, and I recognized my neighbor Raymond's voice. -What in the devil was he doing there? I listened; the maker of -silhouettes said: - -"It's half-past eleven, monsieur; everybody's gone, and I must shut up -shop, too." - -"One more silhouette, my friend, and I'll go." - -"You've been here in my studio more than two hours, monsieur; I have cut -you out seventeen times already." - -"Well, this will make eighteen. Oh! I can't have too many portraits; I -shall find places enough for them! everybody's asking me for one." - -"I tell you that I must close my shop, monsieur." - -"Close it, if you choose; I'll stay inside; I don't propose to go yet." - -"You will go, monsieur." - -"One more silhouette!" - -"No, monsieur, you can't have it." - -I could not restrain a roar of laughter, aroused by the desperate -decision of Raymond, who, in his fear of being arrested for all the -stupid things he had done during the evening, had sought shelter in the -silhouette booth, which he was absolutely determined not to abandon. But -my laughter caused great perturbation in my neighbor's soul. - -"Hark!" he said to the painter with scissors; "didn't you hear? There's -somebody close by. You told me the garden was empty." - -"Pay me, monsieur, and be off; or I'll go and fetch the guard to put you -out." - -The threat of the guard made Raymond shudder; he realized that he must -leave the friendly shelter of the booth; but before venturing into the -garden, he thrust his head out of the door, to see if anyone was on the -watch for him. The first person he saw was your humble servant, whose -inclination to laugh was vastly increased at sight of the pale and -discomposed features of his neighbor. Raymond was uncertain whether he -had better hide again or not, when he saw me; but he made the best of -the meeting, and, being certain that I would not impose upon his -unfortunate plight, he clung to me as to the anchor of salvation. - -"My dear Monsieur Dorsan, how delighted I am to meet you! If you knew -all that has happened to me to-night in this infernal garden!" - -"Oh! I know! it's made noise enough." - -"Mon Dieu! do they mean to arrest me?" - -"Why, it's very possible. The man that you hurt is in a very bad way; -the young men whose coats you ruined are collected at the gate; the -damage you did in the garden amounts to considerable, and----" - -"Oh! what an unlucky devil!"--And Raymond rushed back into the -silhouette booth, despite the remonstrances of the proprietor, who -seized him by the coat and tried to put him out. - -"Save me, neighbor, I have no hope except in you!" - -"Very well, I'll do it; although you played me a most contemptible trick -last night." - -"Oh! I promise you--I swear--it was mere chance. I will contradict all -that I said, if that will gratify you; I will say that the girl slept -with me." - -"No, no; if you please, Monsieur Raymond, you will be careful never to -mention her.--But let us begin by leaving this silhouette emporium. -Follow me." - -"I am with you, my dear neighbor.--Give me my portraits; how much are -they?" - -"Seventeen, at forty sous, makes just thirty-four francs, monsieur." - -"The devil! that's rather dear!" - -"It's the regular price." - -"Come, come," I said to Raymond, whose lugubrious face was not worth -thirty-four francs at that moment; "you can make a lot of your friends -happy with them; that's some little compensation." - -Raymond paid, with a sigh, and seized my arm, imploring me to protect -him. - -"I ask nothing better," said I; "but you must appreciate the fact that I -can't stand my ground alone against half a hundred young men who are -waiting for you at the gate, and are to all appearance determined to -make it bad for you." - -"Yes, yes, I can see that; but I can't pass the night here; I have no -hat, and I should certainly take cold; and to-morrow night I am to sing -the aria from _Joconde_ at a musical party." - -"This is very embarrassing. Do you want to risk going out at the gate?" - -"No, indeed! These young men, when they get excited, are very brutal." - -"I see but one way, then, and that is to climb over the wall." - -"But suppose I am taken for a thief?" - -"Never fear; I have a scheme in my head. Come!" - -We took the darkest paths. Raymond followed me in fear and trembling. I -led him to the wall on Rue de Clichy, and bade him sit on the ground -behind a clump of trees. - -"Stay here; I'll go out of the gate and come around to the opposite side -of the wall on Rue de Clichy. When there seems to be an opportune -moment for you to climb over without risk, I will give the signal." - -"What signal?" - -"I will clap my hands twice." - -"Agreed. The wall's rather high; but still, rather than be beaten to a -jelly--I can't hesitate." - -"Adieu! patience; don't make a noise, don't stir, but wait for the -signal." - -"Oh! I won't fail. You couldn't lend me your hat, could you?" - -"Impossible; I have to sing in a duet to-morrow." - -"Then I'll put my handkerchief over my head." - -"That will be very wise." - -"By the way, if they question you at the gate, you must say that I've -gone." - -"That goes without saying." - -"Don't leave me too long." - -"Of course, I shan't suggest your showing yourself while I see anybody -prowling about." - -"Dear Dorsan! I am tremendously obliged to you." - -"Adieu! I go to keep watch for you." - -I took my leave of Raymond, laughing inwardly at his plight and his -poltroonery. At last I left the garden; it was high time, for they were -just going to close the gates. As I passed, I glanced down Rue de -Clichy, where my neighbor supposed that I was doing sentry duty in his -behalf; and I strolled leisurely homeward, leaving dear Raymond to wait -for my signal. His conduct of the preceding evening merited that little -retaliation; moreover, the most speedy revenge is always the best. - - - - -XI - -BY MOONLIGHT - - -I pursued my homeward way, congratulating myself on my little game, and -laughing at the thought of Raymond's fright and of the figure he must -cut waiting for me to rescue him. But soon my mind reverted to a more -agreeable subject. I thought of the charming Caroline. I had no doubt -that she had read my note, and on the morrow I would go to her shop and -find out how far I might hope. A not very moral scheme, I agree! I -proposed to try to seduce a girl, in order to gratify a caprice that -would last only a moment. But what would you have? I have some grievous -faults; I believe that unmarried men were put into the world to make -love to girls. Those girls who desire to remain virtuous should do as -Nicette did--refuse to allow themselves to be seduced. - -Musing thus, I reached my abode. It had seemed a short walk to me. To be -sure, the weather was magnificent; the moon was quite as fine as on the -preceding night; but my thoughts were not upon the firmament. I was on -the point of knocking, when a person who was sitting on the bench near -the porte cochre rose quickly and came toward me. - -"Ah! here you are, Monsieur Dorsan; I was waiting for you." - -I recognized my little flower girl, whom the sight of Mademoiselle -Caroline had banished from my memory. She had not forgotten me; she was -waiting for me in the street! and it was nearly twelve o'clock! - -"How long have you been here, Nicette?" - -"Since nine o'clock, monsieur." - -"Why did you wait so long for me?" - -"Oh! monsieur, please forgive me, but I couldn't stand it; I wanted to -thank you again, and tell you what I have done with my money." - -"My dear girl, that wasn't necessary; I am sure that you are behaving as -you ought." - -"Don't you like it because I waited for you, monsieur? If you don't, -I'll go away----" - -I knew by the sound of her voice that she was ready to weep. Had I -spoken harshly to her? She was going away with a heavy heart, but I took -her hand and detained her. She heaved a deep sigh. Poor Nicette! could -it be for me? If so, I pitied her. In truth, I did not deserve to be -loved by a sensitive, faithful heart; and yet, I wanted women to adore -me and to be faithful to me: reconcile the two, if you can. - -"Come, my dear Nicette, tell me all you have done since last night?" - -"Won't it bore you, monsieur?" - -"No, of course not; don't you know that I am interested in everything -that concerns you?" - -"Oh, monsieur! if you--but here goes: in the first place, I went home to -my mother's, because, after all, she is my mother, and, although she -turned me out of doors, I still owe her respect." - -"That is true; you did very well. How did Madame Jrme receive you?" - -"Very badly, monsieur! oh! very badly! She didn't so much as ask me -where I'd passed the night. But she proposed to me again to marry -Beauvisage, and said that then she'd forgive what she called my -_caravanes_.[A] Has there been any _caravanes_ between you and me, -monsieur?" - -[A] In French slang, "love adventures." - -"Certainly not; and then?" - -"Oh! I refused; because, when it comes to marriage, I'm obstinate, too. -Then she beat me again, and that time you wasn't there to stop her." - -I could not restrain a smile at the artless way in which Nicette -reminded me of the blow I had received in her behalf; but I was -distressed by Madame Jrme's hard-heartedness: to think of turning her -daughter out of doors, beating her, and abandoning her, utterly without -resource, at the age when the simplest and often the only means of -support are to be found in prostitution! Ah! there are mothers unworthy -of the name! - -"Well, Nicette?" - -"Well, monsieur, I packed up my clothes and left the house, without -seeing my sister, who didn't dare to show her face before me. I says to -myself: 'I mustn't whine about it; I haven't done anything to be sorry -for. I refused the pork man, that's true; but when it's a matter of a -girl's whole life, surely she has a right to do as she pleases.'--So I -went off with my little bundle. I don't know how it happened, but after -walking a while I found myself in your street. I looked round for a -booth, and found one over yonder, close by, on Rue Saint-Honor, near -the boulevard. I bought a bed and a chair; that's all I need. To-morrow, -I'll get a table for my bouquets; as to the flowers, I know where to get -them. I'll set up a stand on the corner of the street, on the boulevard; -and when you want a bouquet, monsieur, I shall be there, close by your -house; and it will be easy enough for you to let me know. Have I done -well, monsieur?" - -Nicette had finished speaking, but I still listened. I was touched by -her attachment. She had wanted to be near me, I could see that; and -there was something so simple and ingenuous in the way she told me about -it, that it seemed that in acting thus she had simply done her duty. - -"You don't say anything, monsieur; is it because you're angry at my -leaving my old quarter to come--to this one? If that's it, why, I'll -look for another room to-morrow; I'll go far away, ever so far, and -you'll never find me in your path again!" - -"What do you say? I, angry because you are near me? It's very wrong of -you to say that, Nicette! I thought that I had shown you how deep an -interest I take in you." - -"Oh! I beg your pardon, Monsieur Dorsan, I beg your pardon; perhaps I -ought to have asked your permission--for you are my patron." - -"Hush! what a child you are! I am very glad that you live in this -quarter. I shall see you often, and always with pleasure." - -"Oh! monsieur, and so shall I. But I won't take the liberty again to -wait for you at your door. I only did it to-day because I wanted to tell -you what I'd done, and to let you know where I am now." - -"Don't apologize, my dear girl; I am so glad to see you! Ah! Nicette, -what a cruel, yet delicious, night I passed so near you! I shall never -forget it as long as I live. I know that I shouldn't have so much -courage another time." - -"Let's not say anything more about that, Monsieur Dorsan. I must go -home, for it's very late, and I'm keeping you from your sleep again. To -be sure, this is the last time it will happen." - -"Dear Nicette, your alluring charms, your graces, and your delightful -frankness, will always be with me in that room, where I should be glad -to see you again." - -"Oh! don't say that, I beg of you, Monsieur Dorsan. I'm too far away -from you--a poor flower girl!" - -"Ah! Nicette; if you chose----" - -"Adieu, Monsieur Dorsan! adieu!" - -She said _adieu_, but she did not go. I held one of her hands; she -repelled me and drew me toward her at the same time. My eyes were fixed -upon hers; we said nothing; but if my porte cochre had been open, I -believe that Nicette would have gone with me again. A sudden outcry -aroused us from that pleasant situation. A man ran along the street, -shouting _thief_! Nicette withdrew her hand, bade me a very affectionate -good-night, and fled. I tried to detain her, but she was already far -away. - -I knocked at my door and was just about to enter, when the man whom I -had seen running toward us, all alone, and whom I had taken for a -drunken man, rushed through the porte cochre and fell headlong in the -courtyard, crying: - -"Safe at last!" - -I recognized Raymond's voice; I was curious to learn the end of his -adventures. The concierge, hearing the uproar, arrived on the scene with -a light, and we saw Raymond, his trousers torn from waistband to knee, -lying at full length in the courtyard, gasping with fatigue, and trying -to recover his breath. - -"Mon Dieu!" cried Madame Dupont; "what has happened to you, Monsieur -Raymond? a pretty mess you're in!" - -"What! is it you?" said I, in my turn; "why did you leave Tivoli without -waiting for my signal?" - -"Oh, yes! I fancy I should have had to wait a long while for your -signal!" - -"You're too impatient." - -"I had been crouching in that corner for an hour, when I saw some men -making the rounds of the garden. Faith! that gave me a fright, and I -determined to scale the wall. But I was in such a hurry that I got -caught on some broken glass; I tore my trousers and cut the base of my -spine. On Rue du Mont-Blanc, I was insulted by some drunken men; indeed, -I think they meant to rob me; but I ran off, shouting for help, and here -I am in port, God be praised! But I shall remember Tivoli!" - -"You must bathe your back in warm water, monsieur," said Madame Dupont. - -"Yes, I'll do that in the morning." - -"You saved your silhouettes, I hope?" said I. - -"I believe I lost some of them when I dropped from the wall." - -"The devil! that's a pity! they'll testify against you, and it will be -easy to recognize that profile of yours. I advise you to wear a false -nose and spectacles for a fortnight or so." - -My neighbor, who knew very well that I was making sport of him, took his -candle and tramped upstairs without a word to me. When we were on our -landing, I nodded to him, with a smile, and entered my lodgings alone, -where I slept soundly. Nights follow but do not resemble one another: -that is what all women say a fortnight after marriage. - - - - -XII - -VEXATIONS - - -My first thought when I woke was of my two young women. I cannot say -whether Nicette or Caroline first presented herself to my imagination; I -know that I was attracted by both of them. But Nicette was an honest -girl and desired to remain so; thus far I had acted honorably with her; -I determined not to try to ruin what I had done. I would be her friend, -were it only for the sake of experimenting upon a novel sentiment toward -a woman. - -As to Mademoiselle Caroline, I had formed a different estimate of her: I -did not believe her to be a novice; her little innocent air with -Monsieur Jules did not impose on me; she was on the lookout for a -husband, but she did not love that poor fellow; if she did love him, -would she listen with a smile to all the insipid nonsense that I -whispered to her? if she loved him, would she dance with other men? -Mademoiselle Caroline was a great coquette, and, in my judgment, -decidedly shrewd. And yet, she had treated me cavalierly enough when I -followed her on the street; to be sure, she was cross because I had -rumpled the finery she had prepared for the following day, which was at -that moment much more interesting than a new conquest, since it might be -worth a great many to her. But I should soon know what to expect. - -At noon I betook myself to the shop that my sorcerer had indicated. He -had not deceived me: among a number of saucy faces, I recognized my -charming dancer. The young women all lowered their eyes at sight of a -young man; but they all scrutinized me furtively. Caroline recognized -me; I could tell that by a certain embarrassment, by her evident longing -to look at me, and by the assiduity with which she attacked her work, -the better to conceal her confusion. It was necessary that I should -pretend to have visited the shop for some purpose: I asked for flowers, -wreaths, trimmings; they were all shown to me, but it was a man who was -obliging enough to spread before my eyes all the treasures of the -establishment, and the young women did not stir. - -That did not meet my desires, but I realized that I could not remain -there all day. I bought fifty francs' worth of artificial flowers, for -which I paid cash; and I left my address, asking that they might be sent -to me during the day, as I was to leave for the country in the morning. -The man promised, and I left the shop. Caroline must have understood me; -but would she come? that remained to be seen. - -I returned home, informed my concierge that I expected some parcels I -had just bought, and that the messenger was to bring them up to my room. -I went up myself, and fretted and fumed like all young men awaiting -their first assignation, like all young women whose mammas keep them in -the house when they are burning to go out. An hour passed, and no one -came. Another hour had nearly elapsed, and I was on the point of going -back to the shop, when my doorbell rang. I reached the door with one -bound and threw it open; there stood Monsieur Raymond, laden with an -enormous pasteboard box. - -"What do you want, Monsieur Raymond?" - -"My respects to you, neighbor!" - -"But what brings you to my door, pray?" - -"I will explain. Allow me to come in and put down this box." - -And, without awaiting my reply, he entered my reception room and seated -himself on a chair. I remained standing in front of him, hoping that -that would make him cut his visit short. - -"Excuse me if I make myself at home; but my back is still painful. That -wall was devilish high." - -"What do you want of me? I beg you to tell me, for I am in a great -hurry." - -"Here goes: in the first place, I wanted to make my peace with you, -because neighbors ought not to quarrel." - -"Bless my soul! I have no desire to quarrel." - -"I'm very glad of that; then that's all at an end. I was on the watch -for an opportunity to come here to speak to you; the opportunity came, -and I grasped it. Somebody rang at my door just now and asked for you." - -"What's that? just now? Who was it?" - -"A girl--very pretty, too; but not so pretty as the one the other -night." - -"A girl! what did she want? pray go on!" - -"She brought this box for you, and said there was no message." - -"Well! where is she? what did you say?" - -"I took charge of the box, telling her that you had gone out, so that I -might have the pleasure of delivering it myself and making my peace with -you." - -"Great God! is it possible? Must you always meddle in other people's -business, just to drive me mad? I'll stake my head it was she!" - -I opened the box, while Raymond stared at me in amazement; he did not -know which way to turn, seeing the gleam of anger in my eyes when he -expected thanks. I found all the flowers I had bought, and, in my rage, -I kicked the box away. The bouquets and trimmings flew through the air, -and a garland _ la jardinire_ lighted on Raymond's brow; he dared not -remove it, because my outburst of wrath had stupefied him. - -After storming about and crumpling and mutilating my flowers, I threw -myself into a chair and my eyes fell upon my neighbor. At that sight my -anger vanished; it was impossible for me to keep a serious face when I -saw Raymond crowned with paper flowers and glancing about him in terror. -I roared with laughter; that reassured him, and he followed my example, -but his laughter was of that forced variety which resembles a grimace, -and not that inextinguishable merriment in which the gods indulge when -Vulcan fills their glasses. - - "Vulcan to find involved in this debate, - The gentle reader'd scarce anticipate." - -"Well," said Monsieur Raymond at last, still trying to smile, "your -angry fit seems to have passed over?" - -"I must make the best of it." - -"Aren't you satisfied with the goods they sent you?" - -"Much I care for the goods, Monsieur Raymond! you will compel me to -move." - -"I, neighbor? Why so, pray?" - -"Because you seem to be stationed beside me here to thwart all my plans, -to drive me mad with rage!" - -"I don't understand." - -"Why, in heaven's name, when people ring at your door by mistake, don't -you send them to me? Why do you say that I'm not at home when I am? Why -did you undertake to deliver this box, when I desired to speak to the -person who brought it?" - -"My dear neighbor, I am distressed--I was entirely ignorant----" - -"I beg you, Monsieur Raymond, as a favor, not to meddle in my affairs -any more, or we shall have a serious falling-out! You have quite enough -other occupation in the house, listening to the gossip of the cooks, -keeping an eye on the women, playing the spy on the girls, and mixing -yourself up in family rows, without disturbing yourself concerning my -conduct." - -"I assure you, neighbor, that someone has been slandering me to you. I -am incapable--I love a jest, that's the whole of it; but I never gossip. -In the first place, I am not talkative. If I were, I might tell you that -the lady on the first floor has two lovers; that her husband keeps a -mistress; that Monsieur Grard, on the second, is in a bad way in -business, and that I've seen summonses for him in the concierge's hands; -that Madame Bertin gives evening parties in order to get husbands for -her daughters; that her cook makes a handsome commission on her -provisions; that the cook at the rear of the courtyard has a lover she -carries soup to; that Gerville the government clerk is running into debt -and doesn't answer the bell when his creditors ring; and a thousand -other things. But it's none of my business; I have quite enough to do to -attend to my own affairs, without bothering my head about other -people's. I took this box, thinking that I was doing you a favor, and -because I wanted an opportunity to make myself useful to you. It made -you angry, and I won't do it again. After this, I'll send away people -who want to speak to you, even when you're not in. I salute you, -neighbor!" - -"By the way, one other word, if you please. What sort of looking girl -was it who brought the box?" - -"Why, very good-looking--that is to say, attractive." - -"How tall?" - -"Medium." - -"Dark hair?" - -"Yes; dark or chestnut-colored." - -"Black eyes?" - -"Yes; that is to say, dark gray." - -"Ah! it was she!" - -"Who is she?" - -"That doesn't concern you, Monsieur Raymond." - -"True; I asked the question inadvertently. Adieu!--By the way, are you -going to Madame Vauvert's to-night? There's to be a grand party, a -concert, and perhaps dancing. I fancy there'll be lots of people there. -I am going to sing the aria from _Joconde_. Monsieur Vauvert sent me -word that he should have a young woman who plays finely on the guitar, -and a gentleman who sings in Italian like a Bouffon." - -"A most alluring prospect." - -"I believe Madame Bertin is going, with her young ladies. The younger -one is studying a piece that she's to play on the piano. But time flies, -and I have a lot of errands to do.--Au revoir, neighbor! I promised -Vauvert to bring him a 'cello and a second violin to complete his -quartette. I must go and drum up my performers." - -He went away at last. The infernal fellow was responsible for my failure -to see Caroline; for I had no doubt that it was she who had brought my -box. What was I to do next? If I went again to the shop, what should I -say? I had no idea; but I did not propose to have my rooms filled with -artificial flowers to no purpose. I returned to Rue Sainte-Apolline. - -The proprietor was out; so much the better. I complained and stormed -because my flowers had not been sent. A girl rose and declared that she -had left them at my rooms. It was not Caroline; therefore, it was not -she who had come. I became calmer and shifted the blame onto my -neighbor's shoulders. The forewoman scolded the girl. I bought some more -wreaths, pretending that I had forgotten to buy them on my first visit; -and I asked to have them sent with me. This time Caroline was selected -to be the messenger. At last I was to have an opportunity to speak to -her freely, to be alone with her! - -"One moment!" I said to myself; "I haven't reached that point yet; I -must not be too sure beforehand; one is so often disappointed!" - -Mademoiselle Caroline walked with her eyes bent on the ground, and I -remained at a respectful distance; but when we were a few steps from the -shop, I put her into a cab, which took us to my domicile. She hesitated -at first about entering the cab, but I urged her; she consented at last, -and then she had no choice but to listen to all that love impelled me to -say, if I may give the name of _love_ to the caprice that had occupied -my thoughts since the preceding night. - -But obstacles give added value to the most trifling fancy, and sometimes -transform a simple caprice into a deep-rooted sentiment. The difficulty -which I had encountered in obtaining an interview with Caroline caused -me to find a greater charm in her company; my words had more fire, more -eloquence; and so little is required to convince a girl whose heart is -already half vanquished. - -Everything, therefore, led me to hope for the most perfect success. In -time the cab stopped, we alighted, and Mademoiselle Caroline handed me -my box, refusing to go up to my rooms. In vain did I promise, aye, -swear to be good; I was powerless to overcome the flowermaker's -obstinacy; all that I could obtain was an appointment on the boulevard -for the following evening. - -She left me, and I entered the house alone. I could not help thinking of -the difference between Mademoiselle Caroline's conduct and Nicette's. -The little flower girl, who had known me but a few minutes, herself -proposed to come to my apartment at midnight; while the grisette, having -an excuse for going there, was afraid to venture in broad daylight. What -was I to conclude? That one realized the danger more fully than the -other? No. Nicette realized it; but she simply did not think of it; she -trusted me. That Caroline was more virtuous than Nicette was impossible; -indeed, I feared the contrary, and that there might be the same -difference in their respective morals as in the flowers they dealt in. - -I must, in any event, wait until the time appointed for our meeting. I -determined to go that evening to Madame Vauvert's; not to hear Raymond -sing the _Joconde_ aria, but because there was generally a collection of -original creatures there that amused me, to say nothing of the master -and mistress of the house, who are well worth a chapter to themselves. - - - - -XIII - -AN AMATEUR CONCERT - - -In Paris there are parties for all tastes, all social ranks, all -professions, all shades of opinion; in a word, for all classes. - -A young man with tact and breeding may go everywhere; nothing is so easy -as to obtain admission to the enormous parties, the gorgeous ftes and -balls, which are so popular that people go thither in crowds and do not -see one another. The master and mistress of the house do not know the -names of half the men who crowd their salons. In the best society it is -customary for an invited guest to introduce whomsoever he may choose, -without asking permission. The newcomer salutes the host and his wife; -they exchange the conventional phrases, smiling at each other most -amicably; that is all that is necessary; and one may then proceed to -play cards, dance, and regale one's self, without paying any further -attention to the master of the house. - -It is not so easy to obtain admission to what are called _bourgeois_ -parties. There the host, being a little more particular than the banker -or marquis of the Chausse d'Antin, likes to know the people who come to -his house. When one young man introduces another to him, he inquires his -name, his profession, and his character; indeed, there are some who -carry their absurd prejudices so far as to turn a cold shoulder to young -men whose too free and easy manners do not please them. But this -extreme severity of morals is found only in the Marais or in the heart -of Faubourg Saint-Germain. - -Between the first society and the bourgeoisie, between etiquette and -license, there are the delightful circles, distinguished by amiable -freedom of manner, artless gayety, and a pleasant intimacy; these are -generally to be found among artists. The arts go hand in hand; genuine -talents are not jealous of one another; they esteem, seek out, and -appreciate one another; that is why we find among them wit without -malice, jesting without bitterness, rivalry without envy, merit without -arrogance, and wealth without display. - -Next come the strange, abnormal parties, which are made up from all the -others. The people who give them do not know how to receive company; but -they insist upon having company all the time, because it is good form to -give soires, and in these days no one is willing to lag behind his -neighbor. For my part, I am in the habit of going only where I am -invited by the host himself; I do not like to be introduced by another -guest, unless it be at one of those crushes to which one goes as one -would go to the theatre; and one may stay away from a second one without -being taxed with discourtesy, because there is no danger of having been -noticed at the first. - -The function of Monsieur and Madame Vauvert may be placed in the last -category. The master of the house fancied that he was a musician, but he -had never in his life been able to beat a measure in three time, or to -observe a minim rest or a crotchet rest, although he used his feet, his -head, and his hands. He thrummed a little on the guitar; and when he had -succeeded in accompanying some little ballad, without falling in with a -minim rest or a crotchet one on the way, he was the happiest of men. -Add to this an enduring passion for the fair sex, to which he paid -assiduous court, despite his wife, a nose always smeared with snuff, -soiled clothes and frills, strong breath and shifty eyes, a figure of -medium height and a body that was always trembling, and you will have an -idea of Monsieur Vauvert, who was a very good fellow in spite of his -trifling faults, and whose greatest crime was not to be virtuous and -orderly at forty-five. Gayety is of all ages, but libertinage is a -different matter. - - "If there's a time for folly, - So there's a time for sense." - -And I trust that at forty I shall be as virtuous as I now am the -opposite. But let us come to Madame Vauvert. - -She must once have been good-looking; the trouble was that she insisted -upon continuing to be so. Her complexion was still fresh and ruddy, even -when she was ill; which tempted unkind tongues to say that she made it -herself. She was not familiar with the manners of good society, but by -way of compensation she had a vast deal of curiosity and an -extraordinary talent for setting people by the ears, while seeming never -to speak ill of anyone; she also had a very pronounced penchant for -good-looking youths and for chocolate. - -Still, Madame Vauvert's parties were very entertaining, because there -was not the slightest restraint, everyone did what he chose, and one was -certain of meeting a lot of original people and of seeing some new faces -at every party. Most of those who appeared there simply passed on and -off, as in a magic lantern; those whose only aim was to be amused went -again and again. I was one of the latter; so Vauvert had come to call me -his dear friend, while his charming spouse always greeted me with a -most gracious little smile. - -As Monsieur Vauvert was only a government clerk, he did not live on the -first floor; but on his reception evenings he caused candle ends to be -placed along the staircase, so that the artists and amateurs might not -break their noses before reaching the third floor above the entresol. He -had no servant, but he had a nephew some fourteen or fifteen years old, -who was junior clerk to a notary; a sly, mischievous youngster, whom his -dear uncle tried to make useful on his festal days, which displeased the -young man, who on those occasions always returned home later than usual -from the notary's, in order not to be at the service of his uncle and -aunt. It was nearly ten o'clock when I arrived at Monsieur Vauvert's; -the company rarely assembled before that hour, for the petty bourgeois -try to mimic the nobility, and think it good form to arrive very late at -a party. Musicians, whether amateurs or professionals, love to keep -people waiting; and I believe that, in due time, evening parties will -not begin until the next morning. - -I rang. The door was opened by Madame Vauvert; whence I concluded that -the young nephew had not yet returned. - -"Ah! here you are, my little Dorsan; it's very good of you to come; we -shall have a lot of people to-night." - -"You _will_ have? Do you mean to say that your guests haven't arrived -yet?" - -"Some of them are late; but it's early yet." - -"Not very." - -"We have a tall young lady from the Conservatoire, who has a magnificent -voice." - -"The deuce!" - -"And a lady who plays the 'cello." - -"Great heaven! why, here it's as it is at Nicolet's: always worse and -worse!" - -"Ha! ha! what a funny fellow!" - -"What music have you had already?" - -"Nothing yet." - -"What! nothing? and it's ten o'clock! For whom are you waiting to begin -your concert?" - -"Little Martin hasn't come yet, to play the piano accompaniments." - -"Isn't his sister here?" - -"Yes, but she won't play to-night; she's sick; she's having one of her -nervous attacks." - -"Ah, yes! that's quite natural. But where's your husband?" - -"He's gone out to get a 'cello part and to borrow a second violin, so -that we can have a quartette." - -"It seems to me that it would have been well to set about it a little -sooner." - -"Why, the poor man's been running his legs off ever since dinner. He had -to fetch Madame Rosemonde and her daughter, then go to the musical -instrument maker's for a double bass, then send for Mademoiselle -Luquet's harp, then go to make sure that Monsieur Crachini could come; -in fact, there's no end to what he's had to do!" - -"I can see that he has had his hands full." - -"And that little rascal of a Friquet doesn't come home! I hope his uncle -will give him a good trouncing to-night. But come in, my dear fellow." - -Our conversation was held in a narrow passage leading on one side to the -dining room, which did duty as bedroom and dressing room, and on the -other to the salon. I entered this last-named apartment, where the -regular habitus and the newcomers were assembled. Everyone was -wondering what the host and hostess could be doing, that no one had seen -them; everyone was calling for them, and asking why the music could not -begin; but not one of the singers was willing to sing first, and the -instrumentalists seemed no better disposed. - -"It seems to me that things aren't likely to go very well to-night," -said a short, pockmarked man, who waddled up to me, smiling maliciously, -whose nose was hidden by his bulging cheeks, and whose eyes one sought -in vain behind his spectacles. "Almost ten o'clock, and nothing doing; -you must agree that it's disrespectful to the company! Poor Vauvert! -passing his evening scouring the neighborhood for instruments and -scores! It's amusing enough! There are not two houses like this in -Paris." - -"That is just why it's so priceless. But aren't you going to sing -to-night?" - -"Yes; I've brought my song from _Jean de Paris_; it's called the -_Princesse de Navarre_." - -"I seem to remember that you sang that to us at the last reception." - -"So I did; but I haven't had time to learn anything else; and then, you -know, it's such a fine thing!-- - - "''Tis the Princesse de Navarre whom I annou--ou--ounce!' - -Gad! how pretty it is!" - -"Yes, when Martin sings it, it's delightful. Shall we have much singing -to-night?" - -"Oh! we shall have some sport. Raymond is to sing the aria from -_Joconde_; that tall girl yonder is to sing the inevitable song from -_Montano et Stphanie_; the pupil from the Conservatoire has brought a -song, too; and Monsieur Crachini will obligingly deafen us with a -romanza or two. Then Chamonin and his friend are to make an attempt at a -duo from the Bouffes. That's enough, I hope! God grant that Gripaille -doesn't take his guitar to accompany us! if he does, we are lost." - -As the chubby-faced little man finished speaking, Gripaille accosted -him, and was greeted with: - -"Well, my dear Gripaille, aren't we to have the pleasure of hearing you? -Come, bring out your guitar; these ladies are dying for some of your -chords." - -Gripaille, who considered himself the first guitarist in Paris, replied, -casting a seductive leer upon the ladies who surrounded us: - -"What the devil do you expect me to sing you? I don't know anything! -I've got a cold, too; and then, Vauvert's guitar is such a wretched -instrument! a regular chestnut stove! it's impossible to play on it." - -"With such talent as yours, one can play on anything," observed a little -old woman, throwing herself back in her chair and clasping her hands -ecstatically, while tears of pleasure started from her eyes. "Mon Dieu! -what blissful moments I owe to you! Music produces such an effect on -me--such an effect! you can't form any idea of it; my nerves are so -sensitive, I abandon myself so utterly to the melody! Take your guitar, -enchanter! take it and make me dream! You remind me of a handsome -traveller who played the guitar under my windows when I was young!" - -The chubby-faced gentleman and I turned away, to avoid laughing in the -face of the old woman, from whom Gripaille had great difficulty in -extricating himself. Old age is certainly most worthy of respect; but it -is hard to keep a serious face before such old idiots, who fall into a -trance during a ballad or an _adagio_. - -I saw the old man who usually played the 'cello part look at his watch, -and heard him mutter between his teeth: - -"This is very disagreeable! I must be at home at eleven o'clock, and we -are wasting all this time doing nothing; and I've been here since seven! -They were laughing at me when they told me that they were going to begin -early, and that there would be a full quartette here; but they won't -catch me again." - -At last Monsieur Vauvert appeared, panting, almost breathless, drenched -with perspiration, and bending beneath the burden of a tenor violin and -several portfolios of music. - -"Here I am! here I am!" he exclaimed, bustling into the room with an air -of great bewilderment; "I've had hard work collecting all the parts, but -I've succeeded at last." - -"You must have been diverting yourself between whiles," said Madame -Vauvert, pursing her lips. - -"Oh, yes! parbleu! that's very likely; diverting myself, indeed! I'm -bathed in perspiration!--You can begin the quartette, messieurs." - -"Let's begin, let's begin!" said Monsieur Pattier, the 'cello player; -"we have very little time.--But have you brought my score?" - -"Yes, yes! there it is on the stand." - -"Come, messieurs, let's tune up." - -The amateurs who formed the quartette tried to bring their instruments -in tune with one another. Meanwhile, the guests took their places to -listen; sat down when they could find chairs. The ladies were already -yawning; the bare announcement of a quartette gave them the vapors; to -distract their thoughts, they chatted with the men who stood behind -their chairs. They whispered and laughed and made fun of everybody, -especially of the performers; the moment when music is being performed -is always selected by the listeners to make the most noise. - -At last the intrepid amateurs were in tune and took their places at -their desks. The old 'cello player had put his little shade of green -paper round his candle, so that the light should not hurt his eyes; the -tenor violinist had put on his spectacles; the second violin put an -ounce of rosin on his bow; and the first violin adjusted his cravat so -that his instrument should not rumple his collar. - -All these preliminaries being completed,--during which Vauvert tried to -bring the assemblage to order by many a prolonged _hush_!--the first -violin raised his bow and stamped on the floor, glancing from one to -another of his colleagues. - -"Are we ready?" he said at last, with a determined air. - -"Oh! I've been ready two hours!" retorted Monsieur Pattier, with an -angry shrug. - -"One moment, messieurs," said the second violin; "my first string is -loose; it's a new string; I must tighten it." - -The tenor seized the opportunity to play over a passage that seemed -rather difficult, and the 'cellist consoled himself with a pinch of -snuff. - -"Now I'm ready," said the second violin. - -"That's very fortunate.--Attention, messieurs, if you please; we will -play the _allegro_ rather slowly, and the _adagio_ somewhat quickly; -that produces a better effect." - -"As you please; it's your place to beat time." - -The signal was given; the first violin started, and the others straggled -after, as usual. Although I paid little attention to the quartette, it -seemed to me to be even worse than ordinarily. - -"The villains have sworn to flay us alive!" said one of my neighbors. - -"That isn't right! that isn't right!" cried the first violin, stopping -short. - -"I don't see why it didn't go well enough," observed the tenor. - -"No, no! there was something that was all wrong." - -"Where was it?" - -"Where? I can't say exactly." - -"Well, _I_ didn't miss a note," said the second violin. - -"Nor I." - -"Nor I." - -"Come, messieurs, let us begin again." - -"All right, but see that you beat time properly." - -"I should say that I beat time loud enough." - -"To be sure you do," said Madame Vauvert; "and the person who lives -underneath said she would complain to the landlord." - -They began to play again; but it went no better, although the first -violin writhed and gesticulated like one possessed; the company began to -laugh, and the performers stopped. - -"It certainly doesn't go right," said Monsieur Longuet, the first violin -and conductor. "There must be mistakes somewhere; let me see the 'cello -score. What does this mean? you're playing in _B_ flat and we in _D_! -Parbleu! I'm not surprised." - -"I'm playing just what you told me to," rejoined old Pattier, scarlet -with anger; "the first quartette in the first portfolio." - -"True; how the devil does it happen? Let's look at the title. What do I -see? Mozart's quartette! and we are playing one of Pleyel's! Ha! ha! -that's a good one!" - -Everybody laughed at the episode; Monsieur Pattier alone was furious -over the mistake, for which Vauvert was responsible, and which resulted -in preventing the performance of the quartette. He rushed up to the -master of the house, who had just seated himself in a corner of the -salon beside a young brunette on whom he was bestowing meaning glances. - -"How's this, Monsieur Vauvert? You tell me that you have brought the -score that was missing, and you give me the bass of a Mozart quartette -when we are to play one of Pleyel's!" - -"I thought I heard you mention Mozart." - -"You thought! a man doesn't make such mistakes as that!" - -"Well! I'll go and change it." - -"No, no, it's no use; almost eleven o'clock; a pretty time to go out -after music! I shan't forget this trick." - -Pre Pattier went away, muttering savagely; nobody paid any attention to -him. Madame Vauvert scolded her husband for his blunder, and the company -congratulated themselves on their escape from the quartette; while the -tenor, who was determined not to be squelched, persisted in trying the -brilliant passages of his part. Neighbor Raymond had just arrived, with -his favorite piece under his arm. I noticed several new faces, and I was -looking about for Madame Bertin and her daughters, who seldom came to -Monsieur Vauvert's, whose decidedly mixed society was ill suited to -well-bred young ladies, when I heard the confused murmur that announces -the arrival of a new personage. - -I looked toward the door of the salon. A very stylishly dressed lady was -being escorted into the room by Vauvert, on whose arm she leaned, and -whose soiled linen, snuffy nose, and awkward manner were in striking -contrast to the grace, the refinement, and the elegant manners of the -lady, for whom he tried to find a seat in his salon, where vacant chairs -were as scarce as at Tivoli. I spied one by the fireplace, upon which a -huge cat lay asleep; I threw the cat to the floor, and presented the -chair to the newcomer, who thanked me as she accepted it. Thereupon I -examined her more closely, and recognized the lady whom I had seen at -the theatre two nights before, and whose carriage I had made a vain -attempt to follow. I was fully convinced that it was she when I saw in -the doorway the man who accompanied her on that occasion. - -Decidedly that Saturday evening was destined to mark an epoch in my -life; for chance had thrown in my way all the persons who had then -attracted my attention. I was Nicette's friend, I hoped to be Caroline's -lover, and as for this other lady, whose name I did not know as yet, I -was ready to bet that we should become better acquainted. - -Neighbor Raymond, who lost no time when he hoped to win applause, had -already approached the piano and was looking about for someone to -accompany him. But Monsieur Gripaille, seeing that no one asked him to -sing, or paid any attention to him, ran and seized the guitar, seated -himself in the centre of the salon, and prepared to begin. Singing is -always the most popular part of a concert, especially a concert of -amateurs, where those who play upon any instrument are rarely good -enough players or good enough musicians to give pleasure to their -audience. A quartette entertains none but those who take part in it; a -sonata on the piano makes people yawn; airs with variations for the harp -are always twice too long, and pieces for the guitar always fall flat -after other instruments. Only for singing, therefore, does the audience -at such affairs care to cease its conversation; a pleasant voice never -wearies the attention or the ears. - -But Monsieur Gripaille had not a pleasant voice--far from it; it was a -continual medley of falsetto, shrill notes, and transitions of an -octave, the whole accompanied by the thrumming of his thumb on the bass -chord of the guitar, while he shook his head from side to side to add to -his personal charms. However, the airs he sang were sometimes tuneful, -the words amusing, and his performance diverted the company for a -moment. But as he always sang the same things, we knew them by heart; -and when he once had the guitar in his hands, it was impossible to make -him put it down; after the ballad came a rondeau, after the rondeau a -comic song, after the comic song another ballad, and so on. I was not -bored, because I was talking with the new arrival, who seemed vastly -astonished at all that she saw, and very glad to find me there; for she -recognized me, and I saw that my presence was not disagreeable to her. - -But soon I heard neighbor Raymond and the man with spectacles -objurgating Gripaille because he did not stop singing. - -"It's horrible! it's murderous! it's enough to put you to sleep!" said -Raymond; "he'll never stop!" - -"Oh! when he once has his guitar, we are lost! there's nothing to do but -let him sing." - -"And he doesn't want anyone to make a sound, either; not even to speak. -See! he's glancing angrily in this direction now, because we're -talking." - -"I don't care if he is; it's altogether too much; tunes that he's sung -to us twenty times!" - -"He says that he wrote them." - -"He lies; I've seen them printed under another name." - -"Great God! I believe he's beginning another one. That fellow ought to -be forbidden to enter a salon." - -"Faith, yes! let's call Vauvert, and tell him to make him shut up." - -"He wouldn't dare." - -"I'll tell you; we must have some young lady escorted to the piano; -perhaps that will compel Gripaille to give up his place." - -The two men ran after Vauvert, who was in the utmost perplexity, for he -did not know how to request his friend Gripaille to cease to entertain -the company. At last, a tall, stout young woman consented to sing; young -Martin arrived to play the accompaniments, and they were escorted to the -piano. Gripaille pretended not to see what was going on, and played the -prelude to his sixth comic song; but the noise in the dressing room, -where a party of young men had assembled who could not find room in the -salon, forced the guitarist to abandon the contest; he rose very -ill-humoredly, despite the faint forced applause, and for lack of -something better to do sat down in front of the little old woman, who -had been partly in a trance and partly in heaven throughout his singing. - -"Come," she said to Gripaille, as he approached, "come, let me embrace -you! You have enchanted me--exalted me to the skies--that is the word! -Come, I entreat you!" - -The wretched guitarist was compelled to submit; he embraced the old lady -with a good grace; admirers are rare, and one has to pay dear for them. - -My neighbor spied me and came to me with outstretched hand; but he -halted in front of my fair unknown, to whom he made a sweeping bow. The -devil of a fellow seemed to know everybody. I listened to their -conversation. - -"Whom do I see? Madame de Marsan! by what chance? Really, this is a -happiness I did not expect! To what are we indebted for this pleasant -surprise?" - -"Monsieur de Marsan meets Monsieur Vauvert sometimes at the department, -and Monsieur Vauvert has been urging him for a long time to come to his -concerts; so to-day we decided to come;--but I confess," she said, -turning to me, "that I did not expect all that I see." - -"We will try, madame, to give you so much pleasure that you will not -regret your evening." - -Thereupon my neighbor ran to the piano, doubtless to prempt the place -next to the tall young lady. But the little chubby-faced man had -anticipated him, and I foresaw that we could not escape the _Princesse -de Navarre_. - -While the young woman was singing her air from _Montano et Stphanie_, -being forced to give up my chair to a damsel who was looking about in -vain for a seat, I went for a breath of air to the dressing room, where -a number of young men had taken refuge, driven from the salon by the -shrill cries of the singer. At that moment the doorbell rang; Vauvert -opened the door, and little Friquet appeared. I expected a scene between -the uncle and the nephew, and I waited to hear. - -"Where have you been, you rascal?" demanded Vauvert, trying to assume an -imposing air. - -"Why, uncle, I have been--I have been at the office." - -"At your office, until eleven o'clock at night!" - -"Yes, uncle." - -"You don't expect to make us believe that, I hope?" - -"Why not, uncle?" - -"Because I know that you leave it every night at nine o'clock." - -"The head clerk gave me some errands to do, uncle; that is what made me -so late." - -"Errands! I know how you do errands! I've been hearing about you, young -scoundrel that you are!" - -"In the first place, uncle, I am not a scoundrel." - -"Your head clerk told me that the day before yesterday morning, while -they were waiting for a very urgent paper that they'd sent you to have -signed, he found you sitting coolly under Pont des Arts, fishing." - -"Me, uncle, me! My word, what a lie!" - -"He has the face to deny it, when I have proofs of the fact!" - -"Proofs? what proofs?" - -"Look, Monsieur Friquet, here's a package of hooks that I found in your -coat pocket. Well! what do you say to that?" - -"That doesn't prove anything, uncle; I didn't buy those hooks for -myself." - -"For whom did you buy them, then?" - -"For my brother, who means to go fishing in the Canal de l'Ourcq on -Sunday." - -"You're the most shameless liar I know. I'll bet that you bought a -theatre check to-night, and that you've been to see the end of some -play." - -"You know perfectly well that I haven't got any money, uncle." - -"Oh! you always have money to go to the theatre and to stuff yourself. -Come, monsieur, fill the glasses and pass them round to the ladies." - -"That's it!" muttered the little nephew, turning angrily on his heel; -"as soon as I get home, I have to be uncle's servant, they'd better get -a negro. And then, the first thing in the morning, aunt sends me to get -her milk and her fuel, and lights for her cat." - -"You seem to be arguing the matter!" said Madame Vauvert, pinching -Friquet's arm; "there! that's to teach you to grumble." - -"Ow! how mean to pinch me like that, aunt! I shall be black and blue for -a week." - -"So much the better!" - -"Mon Dieu! how ugly she is!" muttered Friquet; and I saw him, for -consolation, take a slice of cake out of his pocket and swallow it in -three mouthfuls. - -But the shrill sounds had ceased; the tall young lady was no longer -singing. The little chubby-faced man took her place; he was determined -to sing his air from _Jean de Paris_, and we had to resign ourselves. -While he struggled to hold out his notes, coughing at every ritornelle -to make us believe that he had a cold, I saw the other singers look at -each other, make signs, yawn, and compress their lips. In truth, -amateurs are more unkind than professionals, and they who are in great -need of indulgence for themselves are always ready to tear others to -tatters. They think to conceal their own mediocrity by calling attention -to their neighbor's lack of talent; self-esteem, which blinds us to our -own defects, impels us to seek out with avidity the faults of others, as -if we were the gainers thereby! What folly! Because Monsieur So-and-So -sings false, does that give you a fine voice? because he plays the -violin badly, are you the better performer on the piano? because another -is ugly, awkward, and ridiculous, are you any handsomer, more graceful, -and more agreeable? Of course not; but it is always pleasant to see -people at whom one can poke fun, and whom we believe to be less -abundantly endowed by Nature than we. Remember that Roquelaure joyously -threw himself on the neck of a man who seemed to him even uglier than -himself. But, monsieur, what a difference! Roquelaure sacrificed his -self-esteem; but you, had you been in his place, would have made sport -of the man he embraced, and, turning to look in a mirror, would have -deemed yourself handsome, I vow. - -The _Princesse de Navarre_ being duly executed, the little man made the -circuit of the salon, trying to pick up a word of praise, even from -those whom he had so recently declared to be ignorant of music; for -praise is always pleasant. Everybody told him that he had sung very -well; that was inevitable; we were well bred, which means that we had -ceased to be frank. I alone ventured to observe that he seemed to have a -cold; he turned as red as a turkey cock, and his nose vanished -completely. - -"That is so," he said at last; "I have a very bad cold; it embarrassed -me a great deal." - -"Why did you sing, then?" - -"Oh! people urged me so hard!" - -And I had seen him dispute with Raymond for the opportunity! What -strange creatures men are! But, hush! my neighbor was going to sing; -that deserved attention. But, no; two other men anticipated him; they -sang an Italian duet, I believe; but it was difficult to understand the -veritable hotchpotch they made at the piano: one shook his head to mark -time, as a bear dances behind the bars of his cage; the other, who was -evidently very short-sighted, kept his nose glued to the music. The -young man who acted as accompanist tried in vain to make them sing -together: it was impossible. - -"You're behind," said one. - -"That's because I skipped a line." - -"Well, go on!" - -"You go too fast; you hurry me. I never saw the music before, and to -sing Italian at sight is devilish hard." - -I was sure that he had been studying his part for a fortnight. Despite -their efforts, they were obliged to leave the duet half sung. - -"We will sing it the next time," said Monsieur Chamonin; "we shall be -surer of ourselves then, for the piece needs to be carefully studied. -Rossini is very chromatic." - -"That's so," said Vauvert, stuffing his nose with snuff, a part of which -remained on his shirt front; "it's a pity you didn't finish it, for I -thought it was very pretty." - -"We'll go and hear it once more at the Bouffons." - -"They had better stay there," said Gripaille, in an undertone, delighted -by their misadventure. - -"For my part, I don't care for Italian," said Madame Vauvert. "I never -can hear anything but _tchi and tcha_; and it doesn't amuse me in the -least." - -"Oh! what blasphemy, madame! not like Rossini!" - -"Who's Rossini, uncle?" inquired the youthful clerk, who had stolen into -the salon. "Seems to me I've seen that name, in _Don Quixote_." - -"The idiot, to mistake _Rosinante for Rossini_! Go and wash the glasses, -booby, and don't mix in the conversation again." - -At last my neighbor was at the piano, and had opened his mouth to an -enormous width to inform us that he had "long wandered o'er the world." -But at that moment we heard the notes of a 'cello, and Vauvert appeared -with a music stand, which he placed in the centre of the salon. - -"What on earth are you doing there?" shouted Raymond; "don't you see -that I am singing?" - -"Madame Witcheritche is going to play her solo on the 'cello." - -"In a few minutes; I am singing now, I tell you. Madame Witcheritche can -play afterward." - -"No, she wants to play now, because it's getting late." - -And paying no heed to the mutterings of Raymond, who, in his wrath, -overturned the candlestick on the piano, Vauvert arranged the music -stand, then went to usher in the German virtuoso, whom I had not -previously noticed. She was a very handsome woman, very fair and -somewhat insipid, like most German women, but well built and graceful; -she held the 'cello between her legs with astonishing ease, and seemed -not at all abashed. She played easily and with excellent taste; and I -saw by the long faces of the members of the quartette that they had not -expected to encounter in one of the other sex a musical talent in -presence of which they could no longer hope to shine. - -I heard a voice at my ear incessantly repeating: - -"Gut, gut, sehr gut; tudge lidely, holt te pow firm; lidely on te -shtrings!" - -I turned and saw a hideous face looking first at the performer, then at -the company, making grimaces for tokens of approval, and rolling about a -pair of eyes that reminded me of Brunet's in the _Dsespoir de -Jocrisse_. The owner of that extraordinary countenance was a tall man in -a threadbare green coat, of vulgar aspect, and with pretentious airs -which made him even more ridiculous. - -"Who is that individual?" I asked one of my neighbors. - -"That's the husband of the lady playing the 'cello." - -"What! such a disgusting face approach that charming head! What an -outrage! It reminds me of a Satyr beside a Hebe." - -"Still, the lady seems to be fond of her husband." - -"It's easy to see that she's a foreigner. What does this husband of hers -do?" - -"Nothing; he's a baron." - -"A baron! I should never have suspected it; he looks more like a -cobbler. But in Germany everybody's a baron, just as in Russia all the -soldiers have decorations; it doesn't mean anything." - -Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche, who, as he rolled his eyes about, had -doubtless observed that I was looking at him, came to me as soon as his -wife had finished, and began to converse with a smiling face. I have -observed that the Germans smile a great deal when they are talking. I -regretted that it was not courteous to laugh in a person's face, for -Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche was very amusing to look at, -especially when he wished to make himself agreeable. I wondered what he -wanted of me. - -"I'll pet tat monsir is ein egsberd on te 'cello. Monsir is ein much gut -blayer himself, hein?" - -"I, monsieur? you are mistaken; I do not play at all." - -"Oh! you vish not to admit it; I can tivine all at once te innermost -toughts of bersons py tare faces." - -"The deuce! you are very fortunate, Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche!" - -"I haf shtudy te human heard; I am most egsberd in physsionomique." - -"What do you say, monsieur le baron?" - -"I say I am ein egsberd in physsionomique." - -"I don't understand at all." - -"In physsionomique." - -"Oh! you mean physiognomy." - -Monsieur le baron turned on his heel, without a smile. The best way to -rid one's self of a foreigner is to pretend not to understand him. - -Meanwhile my little dialogue with Monsieur de Witcheritche had caused me -to miss Monsieur Crachini's romanza. I was sorry, for he always combined -with his singing an expressive pantomime which made it doubly -interesting. While various other amateurs entertained the company, I -looked about for Raymond; for being unable to find a seat beside Madame -de Marsan, I was anxious to obtain some information concerning her, and -my neighbor was the very man to give me that. - -He was not in the salon. I went into the smaller room, where my entrance -brought to an abrupt close a whispered conversation between Vauvert and -a fair-haired lady who had been in the dining room an hour, looking for -her shawl amid a multitude of bonnets, mantles, and shawls which were -tossed pell-mell on the bed of the host and hostess. - -"Are you leaving us already?" said Vauvert, in a melting voice, glancing -behind him to see if his wife was coming. - -"Yes, it's very late; I must go home." - -"My nephew will escort you.--Friquet! Friquet!" - -Friquet appeared, and swore between his teeth at having to escort the -blonde lady; he spent an interminable time looking for his hat and -exclaiming in the lady's ears that it was a nuisance to go out so late -and go home with everybody. His uncle pulled his ears, and I joined -Raymond, who was exhaling his vexation at the dressing room window. - -"Aren't you going to sing, neighbor?" - -"Is it possible to do anything here, I should like to know? Did you ever -see such confusion? such disorder? I don't know where I am! I've told -Vauvert a hundred times to draw up a programme and paste it on a mirror; -then everything would go off in an orderly way. But, no; he won't listen -to anything! he amuses himself pinching and squeezing such little girls -as he can find in the corners, instead of attending to his concert." - -"It is certainly true that it might be managed better." - -"The idea of giving us a concerto for the 'cello that there's no end to; -just to grate on our ears! And then, I don't care what you may say, a -woman who plays the 'cello is always absurd! It reminds me of a man -darning stockings; and madame la baronne would do much better to stay at -home and darn hers than execute _staccatos_ and _arpeggios_." - -"What do you say? a baroness darn stockings?" - -"Oh! nonsense! a pretty baron he makes! I saw him the other day on -Boulevard du Temple, buying apples at a sou a bag; and he was haggling -too! He bought sausage by the yard for his dinner; and someone who's -been at his house told me that they gave him gooseberries for -refreshment! But this Vauvert's a star! he tries to make us believe that -he entertains princes, ambassadors perhaps! whereas his house is a -veritable Noah's Ark." - -"By the way, you seem to know Madame de Marsan?" - -"Madame de Marsan? yes, to be sure; I go to her parties. She's a fine -woman, rather a flirt, as you must have seen; but she has wit and good -breeding and style; she's a woman who calls herself twenty-eight, and is -really thirty-two. She is known to have had several passions; but as -she doesn't advertise them and is always regardful of decorum, there's -nothing to say: morals before everything. The husband is a good sort of -fellow, very sharp, they say, when his own interests are concerned. He's -in business; but he's not one of those poor devils who run about for a -fortnight to discount a note which will be worth a commission of seven -or eight francs to them; or one of those who offer you with an air of -mystery houses that are advertised in the _Petits-Affiches_. This fellow -knows what he's about, and makes a lot of money. He has a fine country -house, beyond Saint-Denis, in which madame has had a pretty little -theatre arranged; in fact, I am to act there very soon. She's a valuable -acquaintance; for there's lots of fun at her house. I myself have been -there twice, and I know that they think a great deal of me. If you -choose, my dear fellow, I'll take you there; if introduced by me, you -will be warmly welcomed." - -"Thanks; but, as you know, I don't like to be presented in that way." - -Raymond left me, to return to the piano; he had not lost all hope of -getting himself heard. I knew all that I wanted to know concerning -Madame de Marsan. I returned to the salon. I had reason to believe that -the lady was questioning my neighbor about me, and I knew that I need -not be afraid of losing her good opinion through Raymond's description -of me, for he was one of those men who like to pretend that they have -none but the most desirable acquaintances. I was in comfortable -circumstances, and he had probably represented me as very wealthy; I was -born of respectable parents, and he had probably placed me in one of -the oldest families in France; and so on. To be sure, Madame de Marsan -might have been told that I was fickle, inconstant, treacherous; but -those failings never do a man any harm with the ladies. - -A selection had just been performed on the harp; the performer had made -but one mistake, had had to tune her instrument but twice, and had -broken but four strings; we had no cause of complaint. Raymond had left -Madame de Marsan, to find an accompanist, and threatened, if he failed -in his quest, to accompany himself; by dint of hunting, urging, and -entreating, he succeeded in bringing young Martin to the piano; he began -to cough and expectorate, changed the position of the candles, ordered -the windows to be closed, and struck an attitude supposed to represent -Joconde. But a murmur arose on all sides; the young women ran to -Monsieur Vauvert, the young men surrounded his wife; they had been -promised a contradance; it was almost twelve o'clock, and if it was -postponed any longer there would be no dancing. The hosts acceded to the -prayers of their younger guests. - -"We are going to dance!" shouted Vauvert, as the court bailiff cries: -"Silence, please!" - -Instantly everything was in a ferment in the salon; the young men -hastened to engage partners, the chairs were moved away to make room, -and the guests who did not dance were requested to retire to the -corners. - -Raymond stood at the piano with his mouth open; he thought that he must -be mistaken; he could not believe his eyes; I believe that he was -actually going to begin his aria; but instead of the prelude from -_Joconde_, young Martin struck up a figure of Pantalon. My neighbor -could not digest this final blow; he seized his music in a hand which -shook with wrath, and, thrusting it under his arm, rushed across the -salon like a madman, colliding with the dancers, and receiving kicks -from the young men who were in the act of balancing to partners; I am -convinced, however, that he did not feel them. - -"Monsieur Raymond is going away in a rage," observed a lady to Madame -Vauvert, with a laugh; a lady whose hair was dressed _ la_ Ninon, but -had lost its curl and was floating in the air in long wisps, although -she had taken the precaution not to remove her curl papers until she was -on the staircase. - -"Bah! I don't care for that," replied Madame Vauvert; "he bores us to -death with his songs, and with the poetry he insists on reading to us; -it's always the same thing!" - -At that moment, Raymond, whom I supposed to have left the house, -appeared at the door of the salon and called out angrily: - -"My hat, Madame Vauvert, I want my hat, where is it? It's a lamentable -fact that one can never find one's things in your house." - -"Pardi! your hat isn't lost.--Mon Dieu! I don't see my cat! I put her on -a chair by the fireplace. Why did anyone move her--poor Moumoute? The -door of the landing is often open; she's gone out, and she'll be -stolen!--Moumoute! Moumoute!" - -The dancing continued, no heed being paid to Madame Vauvert's -lamentations and Raymond's demands; the dancers were determined to -compensate themselves, by a moment's enjoyment, for several hours of -ennui; and those who were afraid that their turn might not come took the -precaution to move back the hands of the clock while Vauvert's back was -turned and his wife was looking for her cat. - -I invited Madame de Marsan, and after much ceremony she consented to -dance with me. - -"What an extraordinary house!" she said to me. - -"I find it delightful, since I have met you here." - -"But as it is probable that you will not meet me here again, and as I -desire to see you again, I trust, monsieur, that you will do me the -honor of coming to listen to a little music at my house." - -I accepted, as may be imagined; and after the dance was over, I prowled -about the husband, with whom I entered into conversation. I talked of -speculation, houses, chteaux, and the stock market with him; I took -pains, without ostentation, to mention my name, to speak of my family -and my means. In any other house, I should not have done so; but in such -a mixed assemblage, I was not anxious that he should place me on a level -with people, who, although very estimable no doubt, were nothing more -than that; and in the opinion of many men that is not sufficient -distinction. On the whole, I was satisfied that Monsieur de Marsan found -me rather agreeable; it is so easy to catch people by the sensitive -spot--that is to say, when they have one. - -When young women begin to dance, it is much the same as when a poet -begins to recite his verses: there is no reason why they should ever -stop. But Madame Vauvert, thinking that they were making too much noise, -and afraid of angering her landlord, had already said several times: - -"This will be the last." - -But the last never came to an end. - -Friquet, who had returned in high dudgeon because he had been obliged to -escort a lady home, stole behind the dancers and looked at the clock; -then he hastened to inform his uncle that the hands had been set back, -so that they marked only twelve o'clock when it was nearly one. Vauvert -consulted his watch, saw that his nephew was right, and concluded that -it was incumbent on him to show some resolution, and that his dignity -required him to turn his guests out of doors at once. - -He immediately extinguished the lamps in the four corners of the salon, -leaving only a few candles lighted; and the young men were about to -extinguish them as well, and thus make the scene more amusing, when -Vauvert took possession of them and harangued the company thus: - -"I have already told you that it is time to go; my wife is indisposed, -and I am surprised that anyone should continue to dance against our -wishes." - -This courteous speech made everybody laugh, and they hurried into the -dressing room to prepare for departure. But there the confusion and -disorder reached their climax. The ladies called for their shawls, -mantles, bonnets, and slippers; the singers demanded their music or -their instruments; they made mistakes, and many could not find what they -wanted; the young men hovered about the ladies, on the pretext of -assisting them, but really because such crushes are most propitious to -lovers and amateurs. One tied a ribbon, another put on an overshoe, -another held a little foot while the slipper was being removed. Amid the -tumult, mothers called their daughters, husbands their wives, brothers -their sisters. But those ladies were far too busy to answer. They were -whispering, squeezing hands, making appointments, arranging other -meetings; in truth, the moment of departure is not that at which the -guests enjoy themselves least. - -I tried to save Madame de Marsan the trouble of looking for her shawl in -that crowd; I went into the bedroom, and succeeded, not without -difficulty, in reaching the bed, on which the bonnets and wraps were -piled; my hand, seeking a shawl, came in contact with a firm and -well-rounded form, which I was not seeking, but which I embraced as a -matter of habit, and because I thought that it belonged to a lady with -whom I was very intimate. But the lady, who was stooping over the bed, -and whose back only could I see, turned suddenly. Horror! it was not she -whom I thought! I proceeded to entangle myself in apologies, but she -gave me a most tender and amiable smile, which seemed to invite me to -continue. Faith! I admit that I should not have expected it on the part -of the lady in question, who, in the salon, played the prude, the -straitlaced, stern moralist. Trust appearances, who will! I have already -said that I never would; but a great many people say that, and still -allow themselves to be deceived. - -At last everyone had succeeded in finding what he or she sought. -Friquet, who was anxious to go to bed, had been standing a long while on -the landing, candle in hand, ready to light us downstairs. As for the -master and mistress of the house, they had manifested clearly enough -their desire to see the last of us; so we started down. It was quite a -little procession; everyone took the hand of his favorite and descended -the stairs, laughing heartily over the evening's entertainment. The -young men were very noisy, because Vauvert had urged them to be silent -on account of his neighbors. On the second floor, a young man upset the -candlestick that Friquet carried, and we found ourselves in utter -darkness. - -We all roared with laughter. The mammas scolded the perpetrator of the -mischief, the young ladies did the same, but I have reason to believe -that many of them were not very angry. - -"Idiot! he's always doing such things!" Vauvert shouted at his nephew -from the top of the stairs. - -"I didn't do it, uncle," replied the clerk; "somebody knocked my candle -out of my hand on purpose." - -"I not untershtand vy tay do amuse temselfs py making us near fall town -and may pe hurt ourselfs," muttered the Baron de Witcheritche, whom I -believed to be very jealous of his wife, and who was made uneasy by the -darkness. - -"Holt tidt to te rail, my tear," said the baroness, in a flutelike -little voice, "and tague care ov my Shtradifarius." - -"Your Shtradifarius is chust te ting tat makes me frighted." - -We went down carefully and very softly. I held Madame de Marsan's hand, -and I did not complain of the darkness; but the little clerk, who had -relighted his candle at the porter's lodge, returned with his light just -as we reached the lowest stair. I noticed then some changes in the order -of departure; some mantles awry, some faces very much excited, and many -eyes fastened on the ground, doubtless because the light made them -smart; but I do not mean to suggest any implications unfavorable to the -virtue of the ladies in question, married or single. - -The moment to say farewell had arrived. I saw diverse poor fellows who -lived near the Palais-Royal doomed to act as escort to feminine families -from the heart of the Marais. I saw young ladies manoeuvre to take the -arms of their chosen friends; I saw many a wife sigh as she took her -husband's arm. I should have seen much else, no doubt, if it had not -been dark. But Madame de Marsan and her husband were in their carriage; -and he, learning that I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, obligingly offered -me a seat. I accepted without hesitation. Decidedly Monsieur de Marsan -was a most agreeable man. - -"There's no one else!" Friquet shouted to the concierge, as he closed -the porte cochre. - -"That's very lucky," replied the concierge, closing his door. "Past one -o'clock. Your uncle will have notice to quit, I promise you. He makes a -great show, gives evening parties, and keeps people up all night, and -all for nothing! When a man wants to cut such capers, he should have a -house to himself." - - - - -XIV - -THE BOUQUET - - -In the carriage we talked of Monsieur Vauvert's soire musicale. Madame -de Marsan laughed about it a good deal; Monsieur de Marsan shrugged his -shoulders, and said that the mania for making a show was pervading all -classes of society; that it seemed to be no longer possible for people -to enjoy themselves _en famille_; that everybody was struggling to leave -the sphere in which destiny had placed him; that men were becoming more -eager for dissipation every day; that, to satisfy this imperious -craving, the mechanic sacrificed his week's wages, the workingman his -savings, the tradesman his stock in trade, the clerk three-fourths of -his salary; hence embarrassment, borrowing, debts, failures. His -conclusion was that a man should reckon up his income before giving -dinners, receptions, and balls. - -"I should not suppose that Monsieur Vauvert's receptions were likely to -ruin him," said Madame de Marsan. - -"It seems so to you, madame, because you have noticed simply the general -effect of the affair, which, I agree, was not very splendid at first -glance; but for an under clerk those lamps, the candles on the music -stands, the hired piano, the music and the instruments that they sent -out for, and, lastly, the modest refreshments--all those things, madame, -are as extravagant for a government clerk at eighteen hundred francs, as -a magnificent function, where everything is provided in profusion, is -for a wealthy banker. The difference between the banker and the clerk is -that people go about praising the former's party, which they are proud -of having attended, while they make fun of the clerk's soire, to which -they go for the sole purpose of sneering at those who put themselves out -to make people laugh at their expense." - -Monsieur de Marsan was right; there was a husband who spoke with -profound wisdom. I approved what he said: first, because I agreed with -him; secondly, because I had my reasons for always being of his opinion. - -Monsieur de Marsan lived near the beginning of Faubourg Saint-Honor; I -could not repress my desire to laugh when I learned his address, because -it reminded me of that infernal cabman who had taken me to the farther -end of Faubourg Montmartre on the night when I attempted to follow the -carriage; but I instantly attributed my merriment to a memory of the -concert, and, as we all retained some very comical ones, that seemed -perfectly natural. They set me down on Rue Saint-Florentin, after -inviting me to their house to listen, not to a concert, but to a little -music; there is a great difference between the two, for I had to admit -that I had heard no music at Monsieur Vauvert's concert of amateurs. - -Standing at my door, I thought of my new acquaintance; I dared not as -yet say my conquest, but I secretly flattered myself that she soon would -be. Meanwhile, I had not forgotten the charming Caroline, who had given -me an appointment for the next day. My imagination had abundant food for -reverie: what a wellspring of pleasure the future had in store for me! I -could see nothing but roses, and my mind, enchanted, sought to -communicate its enthusiasm to my heart, which did what it could to find -something for itself in all that was going on. I went upstairs without a -light; for it was very late, and Madame Dupont extinguished her lamp at -midnight. I started to open my door; but as I was putting the key in the -lock, my hand came in contact with something--leaves--flowers--why, -someone had put a bouquet there! Ah! I knew who had done it!--I entered -my room; I soon procured a light and could look at my bouquet. It was -beautiful! orange blossoms, a rose or two, some carnations, and all -surrounded by pansies; the bouquet was tied with a small white -bow.--"Dear Nicette!" I thought; "so you still think of me! you are not -ungrateful! Ah, no! you have a warm heart and you are virtuous! What a -pity that, with those two priceless qualities, you were born in obscure -station! Not that I believe that your equals are incapable of -appreciating your virtues, but that I can do no more than admire them. -You will be a treasure to others, but you can be nothing to me; I must -seek such a treasure in high life; there are some there, no doubt, but -they are not all so seductive as you." - -How had she succeeded in leaving that bouquet at my keyhole? If it had -not been so late, I should have gone down and questioned my concierge; -but I had no choice but to wait till morning. Raymond, who saw -everything, had undoubtedly seen the bouquet; but perhaps--he was so -engrossed by his aria from _Joconde_! - -I longed for the morning to come, that I might question Madame Dupont. I -could not tire of smelling Nicette's bouquet and gazing at it in -admiration. I looked at the pansies.--"Ah!" I said to myself; "I -understand: it was gratitude that prompted the gift. Poor child! she -loves her benefactor; that is natural enough; but she is so pretty that -she will soon be besieged by lovers, her heart will speak, and she will -forget me. That is the way such affairs always end."--I carefully placed -my bouquet in water and went to bed. I passed in review the events of -the day. Madame de Marsan and Caroline played a large part therein; they -were both coquettes--in a different way, to be sure, but it was coquetry -all the same. Alas! all the women I had known were coquettes, and I did -not honestly believe that any one of them had loved me; at all events, -it had been only for a moment. What does a sentiment amount to that has -the duration of a mere caprice, and that does not resist the slightest -trial? And my sister insisted that I should marry! Why should I hope to -find in a wife what I had failed to find in a mistress? Of course, the -indissoluble bond, children, duties, the opinion of society, might -prevent my wife from being unfaithful to me; but all those things would -not revive her love when it was once extinct. - -"I will not marry," said I to myself; "I will make the most of -life."--And yet it had seemed to me for some time, amid all my follies, -that I was not perfectly happy. Although fickle, I was sentimental; my -heart was constantly looking about for something to attach itself to; -it was not its fault that it did not find a heart to respond to it. Of -late, I had met none but perfidious, unfaithful women; I used always to -take the initiative in the inevitable separation, but the later ones had -not given me time; to be sure, I had been foolish enough to put them to -the test. I determined to be wiser in future, to take women for what -they were, and to thank fortune when I chanced to fall on my feet. - -Who could say? Perhaps Caroline would love me; perhaps Madame de Marsan -would be less coquettish in due time; perhaps the young flowermaker was -really virtuous. As for the adventures which Raymond attributed to -Madame de Marsan, my neighbor was so evil-tongued that I could not place -any reliance on what he said. - -I lulled myself to sleep with thoughts of my various inamoratas; but, -for some unknown reason, the memory of Nicette was always involved in my -schemes and my hopes. I concluded that it was the smell of her bouquet -that kept her so constantly in my thoughts; but the orange blossoms were -so sweet, that I was unwilling to take them out of my bedroom. What a -charming little attention, to bring me that bouquet and to place it so -that I could not enter my room without taking hold of it! Ah! if women -are coquettish and deceitful, they alone are capable of such -forethought, such amiable attentions, of that delicacy of feeling which -enables them to discover, even in the most trifling circumstance, a -means of giving an additional proof of their love or their friendship. I -went to sleep; but how did it happen that I dreamed neither of Caroline -nor of Madame de Marsan? It was Nicette whom I saw in my dreams, it was -she who engaged all my thoughts. Doubtless the odor of the orange -blossoms continued to remind me of her, even in my sleep. - - - - -XV - -THE DINNER PARTY - - -I was still sleeping when Madame Dupont came to arrange my room. I began -at once to question her, for I was anxious to know if she had seen -Nicette. - -"Did anyone call to see me last evening, Madame Dupont?" - -"No, monsieur; no one." - -"You saw no one come upstairs to my rooms?" - -"You know very well, monsieur, that I wouldn't have let anybody come up, -knowing that you were out." - -It was very strange! how had she succeeded in eluding the concierge's -eyes? She was determined that no one should see her bringing the -nosegay; she thought that it might offend me, and her gift acquired the -greater value in my eyes on that account. To divert my mind from such -thoughts, I recalled the errands my brother-in-law desired me to do. I -went out, leaving Madame Dupont to place in a box all the artificial -flowers that were strewn about my floor; but I told her not to touch the -bouquet, which was on the mantel. It was a fertile source of conjectures -for my concierge. - -My day was fully occupied by the commissions to be executed in various -government offices, whence Dneterre, who was about to build and desired -to consummate various enterprises, hoped to obtain information and -support. I was not sorry to have something to do; the time passed more -rapidly. Do not believe, however, that I was accustomed to spend my -days in absolute idleness; no, I was devoted to the fine arts, -especially poetry and music; and I turned my attention to them with -ardor, when my love-making folly left me the requisite leisure; but I -admit that I had neglected them shamefully for some time past. - -It was time to think about dinner. I did not forget that I had an -appointment for the evening on Boulevard Bondy, near the Chteau d'Eau. -In order to be in the neighborhood, I thought that, instead of dining at -the Palais-Royal as usual, it would be an excellent idea to dine on the -boulevards, where the small theatres are; then I should be close at hand -for the evening. I bent my steps, therefore, toward the Marais. - -When I was on Boulevard du Temple, I had only too great a number of -restaurants to choose from. I knew them all; I was not _en partie fine_; -so that I had no occasion to think of anything except which was the -best, without looking about for the most convenient and most secluded -private dining rooms. I decided in favor of the Cadran-Bleu; the prices -were high there, but ordinarily one could get a good dinner. I walked in -that direction and was just passing the Jardin Turc, when I saw a -gentleman in front of me with a lady on his arm. Raymond's figure was -too easily recognizable for me to mistake it. It was certainly he: his -gait, his huge calves, his gestures--yes, it was he. As for the lady, -her face was hidden under an enormous bonnet; but it seemed to me that I -knew her as well. My neighbor was talking with great earnestness, and I -noticed that he pressed her arm to his side; he had every appearance of -being _en bonne fortune_. I was curious to know where they were going; -and I was determined to obtain a glimpse, if possible, of the charmer's -face, unseen by Raymond; for, as I have said, her figure was not -unfamiliar to me. But they crossed the boulevard and entered a -restaurant on the corner of Rue d'Angoulme--the Mridien; I remembered -that the waiters there were young women, and that it was a very -comfortable place; at least, it was so some years before. Why should I -not follow my neighbor? Perhaps chance would give me a glimpse of his -companion; and Raymond does so much boasting about his mistresses, who, -according to him, are always princesses and of rare beauty, that I was -not sorry to have an opportunity to see one of those marvels of -creation. - -I left the Cadran-Bleu at my right, and, resigned to the prospect of -dining less satisfactorily, entered the Mridien and asked for a private -room. I was taken to it by a waitress. We passed a room where I heard -Raymond's voice, and I told my conductress to give me the adjoining one. -The partition between me and the room which Raymond and his flame -occupied was so thin that I could hear their voices when they did not -speak in undertones. I left my door open, too; and as theirs was not -closed, for their table was being laid, I could catch from time to time -a portion of what my neighbor said; for he had the unfortunate habit of -speaking very loud--a habit contracted in order to attract attention to -himself, and retained even in his incognito. Judging from what I heard, -he was putting himself out to please his guest, whose tastes he -constantly consulted in ordering the dinner. I heard him read the bill -of fare to her three times; she had much difficulty in making up her -mind; she didn't like anything; she wasn't hungry; it made no difference -to her; but she asked for a thousand things that were not on the bill. -I readily concluded, from her affectations and fussing, that my neighbor -had not made a very distinguished conquest; indeed, one would have said -that she was making fun of him and that it amused her to annoy him. I -was convinced that he would have nothing to show for his dinner. - -Every time that I heard the woman's voice it recalled confused memories. -Yes, I was sure that I knew her, but I could not tell who she was; I had -known so many that I might be pardoned for confusing them in my memory; -and then, I caught only a few detached words. No matter! I was -determined to see her, and I would find a way! - -It seemed that Raymond decided at last to order the dinner himself, for -I heard nothing more from him. The lady hummed a comic-opera air; that -voice was certainly familiar to me. - -I heard the bell, and the waitress appeared. Raymond gave her the card -and ordered dinner at once, and the girl went downstairs. The lady -expressed a wish for some fromage fouett, which my neighbor had not -ordered, and he ran after the girl to add it to his order. As he passed -my room, the door of which I had been careful to leave ajar, he glanced -in and saw me. - -"What do I see? my dear friend Dorsan!" - -"Himself, Monsieur Raymond. What on earth are you doing here?" - -He entered the room with an air of mystery, walking on tiptoe, and -pointed, with a smile, to the adjoining room. - -"I am in there," he said, trying to speak in an undertone; "next door." - -"Oho!" - -"With--someone." - -"Ah! I understand! an amourette, a _partie fine_!" - -"Exactly." - -"You're a terrible fellow. They accuse me of being fickle, a deceiver, -but I am sure that you're a hundred times worse than I." - -"I won't deny that I'm rather given to changing!" - -"And the lady?" - -"Oh! charming, delicious! a regular swell, with her carriage and livery! -We are here incog." - -"So I imagine." - -"She has granted me to-day a favor she has refused a thousand other -men." - -"What a lucky dog you are! You arouse my curiosity; might I not see -her?" - -"Oh! impossible, my dear fellow, impossible! she's a woman who is most -particular about her reputation. If she knew that I had talked about her -to one of my friends, she would be deadly angry with me and would never -forgive me." - -"Very good, I'll say no more about it; I see that it would be no -kindness to you. I congratulate you, none the less, on such a brilliant -conquest." - -"It's worth what it costs, that's true. You know that in the matter of -women I am rather particular; I don't take up with the first comer; I -insist on good form and style." - -I thought that Monsieur Raymond was trying to be sarcastic. - -"Above all things, I like to subdue those who are cruel," he continued; -"with them there are at least some merit and firmness--you understand. -But I wager that my charmer is getting impatient; adieu, neighbor! love -and pleasure call me." - -"Don't keep them waiting." - -Raymond left my room, his bosom swelling with delight at being seen _en -bonne fortune_, and returned to his own, closing the door behind him. -All that he had said increased my curiosity; I was convinced that he had -been telling me fables, as usual. I gave no credit to his tales of great -ladies; and I could see him cudgelling his brains for lies while he was -talking to me; indeed, he seemed to go more into detail than his custom -was, the better to pull the wool over my eyes.--You were not sly enough -to catch me, my dear Raymond! it was because you had happened to see me -with a flower girl that you put on so many airs and hurled epigrams at -me; but I had a shrewd idea that your great swell was not worth my -humble Nicette. - -My window looked on the boulevard, and, while I waited for my soup, I -opened the sash to enjoy the prospect. I was not _en partie fine_, -consequently had no desire for a subdued light. I observed that my -neighbor's blinds were not lowered, and my conclusion was strengthened -that Raymond's affairs had not progressed very far. - -As I watched the passers-by, I saw a young man whom I knew stop in front -of our restaurant. It was the same Gerville who lived in our house, and -with whom Mademoiselle Agathe passed the memorable night when I offered -hospitality to Nicette. What was he doing there? He stopped and looked -this way and that, as if he were expecting or seeking someone. - -The window in my neighbors' Good! perhaps the lady would come there for -a breath of air and I could see her face. But what was the matter? I -heard an exclamation, and the window was suddenly closed; something -extraordinary must have happened. In truth, I seemed to be becoming -almost as inquisitive as Raymond. - -I walked away from the window; a warm discussion was in progress in the -next room. Faith! they could do what they chose! I proposed to dine, for -I was hungry. At that very moment the waitress appeared with my soup. -But what a racket! Raymond suddenly rushed out of his room and into -mine, pale, haggard, trembling, and in his haste jostled the servant and -caused her to spill my soup on the floor. - -"Oh! mon Dieu! what a mess, monsieur!" exclaimed the girl, picking up -her tureen. "You have made me burn myself awfully--all that hot soup on -my foot! I know that I shall have big blisters there!" - -"It's all right, my girl; I'll pay for your soup." - -"And what about my apron, which is ruined, and my leg?" - -"I'll pay you for everything!" Raymond replied, with no idea what he was -saying; and he pushed the girl out of the room and carefully closed the -door. - -"Well, well! what in the devil's the matter with you, Monsieur Raymond? -you look as if you'd had a fright!" - -"Ah! my dear friend, I have good reason to!--something has happened--a -circumstance--I am in a terrible plight. Wait till I look out of the -window; but first be good enough to draw the curtain so that he can't -see me." - -"Are you going mad, neighbor?" - -Raymond did not answer me; he went to the window and looked out, taking -care to conceal himself behind the curtain, and putting his head out -with the utmost precaution. I saw that he became paler than ever. - -"He's there," he said at last. - -"Who, pray?" - -"Gerville." - -"Oh, yes! so he is. But what difference does that make to you?" - -"It makes a great difference to me. Don't you know that he is horribly -jealous and quite capable of going to terrible lengths?" - -"What of it?" - -"Understand that he's here on my account. I am sure that he is watching -for me; and he has some reason to, for I am with his mistress." - -"What! can it possibly be Mademoiselle Agathe whom you chose to -transform into a lady with a carriage and livery of her own?" - -"What would you have, my dear fellow? I did it in order to disguise her -better, to spare her reputation." - -"Oh! so far as that goes, you may take my word that she has nothing to -fear. Ha! ha! ha! Monsieur Raymond, what you must have are cruel -creatures, women of a certain style!" - -"You may jest about it later, my friend, but save me now, I implore you; -my only hope is in you to extricate me from the frightful position I am -in." - -"For heaven's sake, explain yourself!" - -"Gerville will come into this house, I am perfectly sure. Somebody must -have told him that I am here. Be obliging enough to take my place for a -moment, and give me yours in this room; I will leave my door open, he -will see that I am alone, and his suspicions will vanish." - -"But why don't you lock yourself in with your inamorata? he won't break -down your door." - -"He is quite capable of it! or else he would wait for me on the -boulevard; and if I should go out with Agathe, you can judge for -yourself what a scandalous scene there would be. Furthermore, we live in -the same house, you know; and if he has discovered anything, how shall I -ever dare to go home? He's just the man to lie in wait for me on the -stairs at night." - -"Then why in the devil did you meddle with his mistress?" - -"What can you expect? a moment of folly. It was that morning I waited -with her on our landing that it took me." - -"Ah, yes! the morning you both played the spy on me." - -"Oh! great God! he has come in!" cried Raymond, who had glanced out on -the boulevard; "save me, my friend--in pity's name! Go--I'll join you -later." - -Giving me no time to reply, Raymond jammed my hat over my ears, dragged -and pushed me out of my private room, and locked himself in. I made no -resistance, and without any idea as yet as to what I proposed to do for -my neighbor, whose most distinctive quality courage certainly was not, I -entered the room where Agathe was. She uttered a cry of surprise when -she saw me. - -"Mon Dieu! it's Eugne! Is it you? is it really you?" - -"Why, to be sure it's I, sacrificing myself to save poor Raymond, who's -in such a fright that it will make him ill." - -"Ha! ha! ha! I can't get over it!" - -"Hush! he's in there; he can hear you laugh, and I fancy that he would -take it ill of you just at this moment." - -"Really! what do I care for that? Ha! ha! ha! Do you think that I'm in -love with Raymond, I should like to know? Oh! he is much too stupid, -really! and he tries to play the Lovelace! I couldn't stand it any -longer! When I opened the window and saw Gerville on the boulevard, I -gave a shriek and stepped back into the room as quick as I could; for I -don't want Gerville to see me with Raymond. Not that he's jealous, but -he might not like it. Do you know what I did? It came into my head to -tell my old idiot that Gerville is fiendishly jealous, and that he had -been suspicious of him ever since he learned that we spent two hours -together on the landing, and that I was certain that he was on the -boulevard for the sole purpose of watching us. The more I said, the more -frightened my adorer became, for he has even more affection for his own -person than for mine. And when I added that Gerville was quite capable -of stabbing him,--ha! ha! the poor man took his hat, and is running -still, I fancy. Ha! ha! ha! but it's very kind of him to send me such an -agreeable companion. Meanwhile, I would like to know what has become of -Gerville; I think that he was just waiting for one of his friends." - -"Hush! somebody is coming upstairs. Raymond is opening his door; let's -listen. Gerville is speaking." - -We put our ears close to the door, which we very softly opened an inch -or two, and overheard the following conversation: - -"Ah! it's neighbor Raymond." - -"Himself, at your service. How are you?" - -"Very well. How's this? are you dining alone in a private room?" - -"Yes; I have something on my mind, some important business, and I was -glad not to be disturbed." - -"In that case, I'll leave you. I am waiting for somebody who agreed to -meet me on the boulevard here; but he's late, and I am going to dine. -Good-day, neighbor; and a good appetite!" - -"Your servant!" - -Gerville closed the door of Raymond's room and went into another, -passing ours as he did so. - -"Well, mademoiselle," I said to Agathe, "choose; to which of these -gentlemen will you give the preference?" - -"Oh! I have a delicious idea!" - -"Some crazy scheme, I'll be bound, for you think of no other kind." - -"This will be unique. Help me, my dear Eugne, I beg you." - -Without another word to me, Agathe began to stride up and down the room; -she pushed the chairs about, threw some of them down, and, amid the -uproar, cried out from time to time: - -"Don't be angry with me, my friend! I assure you that you are mistaken. -I give you my word that I haven't seen Raymond; that I don't care for -him! Ask Dorsan; he invited me to dinner, because he was expecting a -lady." - -I began to understand Agathe's plan; she proposed to make Raymond think -that Gerville was with us. To second her, I also made noise enough for -two, and attempted now and then to imitate Gerville's voice. We stopped -at last, tired out by our comedy; Agathe made me a sign which I -understood; I left the room, the door of which she locked behind me, and -stole on tiptoe into Raymond's, where I found him shivering and half -dead with terror in front of a beefsteak with potatoes. I locked the -door before approaching him, and put a finger to my lips; we had the -aspect of two conspirators. Raymond spoke so low at this time that I -could hardly hear him. - -"He's in there," I said, pointing to the next room. - -"Oh! I know it only too well; I heard him. But how did it happen?" - -"We thought he had gone downstairs, and we opened our door; but he was -on the watch; he saw Agathe and came in. Then there was a terrible -scene, for he suspected that she came here with you; I'm not the one of -whom he is jealous." - -"Parbleu! I know only too well that it's I. I saw plainly enough just -now that he didn't believe what I told him. He had doubts; perhaps he -saw us coming along the boulevard." - -"That is quite possible; you are so infernally imprudent! When you -arrange such a party as this, you should take a cab, and enter the -restaurant by the rear door." - -"That's so; you are right; we ought to have come in from behind! but I -promise you that I'll go out that way." - -"He thought at first that I was in your confidence, that I was here -solely to help you. In fact, I am exposing myself to some risk in your -behalf." - -"Ah! my dear Dorsan! never while I live shall I forget what I owe to -you!" - -"However, things are beginning to calm down. Agathe has succeeded in -making him listen to reason; she told him that she came here for no -other purpose than to watch him; she's playing the jealous lover now." - -"Oh! that's delicious! charming! these women always find a way out of -everything!" - -"I should prefer to let them dine alone; but he won't listen to it. I -left the room on the pretext of ordering dinner." - -"It's all ordered, my dear friend; and I shall take good care to pay for -it. I don't mean to put you to any expense, when you are sacrificing -yourself to help me." - -"As you please; I'll give the word to the waitress, and we will dine." - -"Go, my noble-hearted friend; tell her to be sure not to mention me." - -"Never fear." - -"I have but one fear now." - -"What's that?" - -"Just now, with the idea of giving Agathe a surprise, I amused myself, -while her back was turned, by slipping my picture into her reticule." - -"Your picture?" - -"Yes; I mean one of my silhouettes, you know, which I had pasted on a -pink card, with a border of little cupids. If Agathe should happen to -drop that when she takes out her handkerchief; or, not knowing what it -is, should take it into her head to look at it----" - -"Peste! that would make a pretty row! Gerville would surely say then -that I was in collusion with you to deceive him." - -"Try, my friend, try to prevent Agathe from blowing her nose!" - -"I can't promise that, but I'll motion to her to blow it in her napkin; -that cannot compromise you." - -"That's the very thing." - -"Adieu! a longer absence might arouse suspicion." - -Once more I left Raymond, who locked himself into his room. I returned -to Agathe. The waitress arrived with the dinner; she seemed surprised at -the change of cavalier, but two or three words in her ear and a -five-franc piece in her hand speedily retained her in our interest. She -promised to tell the stout gentleman that there were three in our party, -and thereupon she left us, overjoyed to be able to amuse herself at the -expense of the man who had upset a tureen of soup on her feet. - -"Now, let us dine," said I, taking my seat at the table beside Agathe; -"no one can deny that we have earned it. I hardly expected to dine with -you, I admit." - -"Nor I! but impromptu pleasures are always the best." - -"A month ago we had already become reasonable and sedate in our -tte--ttes." - -"I tell you, we did well to part; we are much better pleased to see each -other." - -"Oh! I know that you are passionately fond of variety." - -"No, my friend, not so much of variety as of forbidden fruit; and when I -think that Gerville is at our right, Raymond at our left, and that I -have succeeded in avoiding the necessity of eating in his company the -dinner he ordered--ha! ha! ha!" - -"Don't laugh so loud!" - -"Oh, yes! that will reassure him, don't you see? he will think that -Gerville's in good humor.--Ha! ha! ha! it will bring back his appetite." - -Agathe was in the wildest spirits; she was compelled to hold her napkin -over her mouth to stifle her outbursts of merriment; the pleasure of -deceiving two men at once gave to her face an unfamiliar expression; she -had never been so pretty in my eyes, I confess. She teased me, pinched -me, caressed me, threw her arms about me. Ah! Mademoiselle Agathe, you -were a perfidious creature, but most seductive! Moreover, for several -days, I had been making love with my eyes alone, and I felt that it was -incumbent on me to make our mystification of Raymond complete.--Ah! my -poor neighbor! if you but knew what ardor Agathe showed in mystifying -you! - -But we heard someone coming upstairs; it was our waitress. That young -woman had an abundance of tact and penetration; she turned the knob at -least thrice before she opened our door. She brought the first course. I -tasted the wine; it was Volnay, first quality. Gad! my neighbor was a -connoisseur! - -"Oh! you'll have a fine dinner," laughed the girl; "the gentleman didn't -forget anything: champagne, dessert, and the _coup de milieu_!" - -"Aha! so we're to have the _coup de milieu_!" said Agathe; "we musn't -forget that, my friend, do you hear?" - -"Never fear.--By the way, my girl, did our neighbor question you?" - -"Yes; I told him that madame was dining with two gentlemen; he seems a -little easier in his mind." - -"That is good." - -We did full justice to Raymond's dinner; it was dainty and toothsome. In -a quiet moment, I asked Agathe to tell me how it happened that she had -come there to dine in a private room with my neighbor, whom she did not -like at all. - -"I did it to have a better chance to make fun of him," she replied. -"Ever since the day we waited on your landing to see your little flower -girl, Raymond has been pleased to make love to me. He pesters me with -his declarations and his billets-doux, which I receive just to show them -to the girls in the shop; and they make a lot of sport for us, for his -style's as ridiculous as his person. He had asked me twenty times for an -assignation, when I happened to meet him to-day near Porte Saint-Denis. -I was just going home; I had been to Gerville's, but didn't find him. -Raymond urged me, begged me, to dine with him at a restaurant. I refused -at first; but the temptation to make a fool of him, to laugh at his -expense, in short, to have some sport, led me to change my mind. -Besides, you know what a heedless creature I am. I didn't expect to meet -Gerville, for whom I care very little, however. So I accepted, and -allowed myself to be conducted to a private room by poor Raymond, who -believed that his triumph was assured, whereas I never had the slightest -intention of granting him any favors." - -"Here's to his health!" - -"With all my heart." - -"Is this the _coup de milieu_?" - -"One moment! how fast you go! we haven't got to it yet. This vol-au-vent -is delicious, and so is this filet saut, with madeira and truffles." - -"And this salmi of partridges, also with truffles. Ah! poor Raymond! do -you see his game? he ordered truffles in everything!" - -The waitress arrived with the rum and the next course. - -"Good Lord!" exclaimed Agathe; "truffles with champagne sauce! why, -he'll kill us with 'em! What is our neighbor eating?" - -"Chicken, with rice, madame." - -"Good! that's very nourishing; give him some prunes for dessert; they're -an emollient." - -The girl left us. We enjoyed the truffles, the chicken, and the crabs, -whose claws Agathe wanted to send to Raymond. We did not forget the -_coup de milieu_; my companion thought a great deal of that, and so did -I. With his dinner _de bonne fortune_, that philandering Raymond had put -the devil into us; he evidently thought truffles a necessity in his -_parties fines_! But, by sending me to take his place with Agathe, he -had allotted me a terrific task! - -"Avenge yourself," she kept saying to me, "avenge yourself, Eugne; you -know that Raymond is responsible for our having seen your little vestal -leave your rooms; you know, too, that he used to make remarks to the -people in the house when I came to see you; you know that by his -inquisitiveness and chattering he has made trouble between you and -several women. Avenge yourself; still avenge yourself!" - -What terrible creatures women are when it is a question of vengeance! -Agathe still urged me, and yet my spleen was rapidly vanishing. Luckily, -the girl brought the dessert. Champagne, fromage la vanille, biscuits - la rose, gele au marasquin, and Madame Amphoux's liqueur des Iles. I -was lost! Raymond was determined to have my life! - -"I would like to know what he's doing now," said Agathe; "just go and -speak to him." - -I left the room, and she held the door ajar to listen; I coughed gently -at Raymond's door, which he instantly opened. - -"Well! how far have you got?" he asked. - -"Oh! everything is going along nicely, very nicely! we are eating -dessert." - -"And Gerville?" - -"Oh! he's forgotten everything!" - -"I was afraid that he would make a scene with Agathe. I thought I heard -groans and sighs." - -"They were of repentance and love; and then, she still pretends to be -jealous; but I see plainly enough that she is thinking only of you." - -"Oh! she adores me, my friend; I can't doubt that." - -"Your dinner is delicious; you do things very well, Monsieur Raymond." - -"Yes, yes; I ordered it for a purpose! I expected to partake of it with -her!" - -"She knows that you ordered it, and she is just as much obliged to you. -I can see in her eyes that she doesn't eat a truffle without thinking of -you." - -"Dear Agathe! But I hear laughter, it seems to me." - -"Yes, that is she. She laughs with her lips, to deceive him; but the -fromage fouett awaits me; adieu, my friend!" - -"What! haven't you drunk the champagne yet!" - -"Not yet." - -"But you look rather heated." - -"It's the _coup de milieu_ that gives me that appearance." - -"Tell me, had I better go away before or after you?" - -"Why, before--that would be the wiser way." - -"I'll take a stroll in the garden of the Caf Turc, in front of the -pavilion that bears a crescent." - -"I can see it from here." - -"If by any chance Gerville should leave you, or if he should take Agathe -away, join me there." - -"Agreed." - -"I will wait for you, then. Au revoir, my dear neighbor! I beg you to -excuse me for giving you so much trouble. What you are doing for me -to-day is an act of genuine friendship. I have but one further request -to make; keep an eye on my silhouette! motion to Agathe not to touch her -handbag. Do this for me, my friend." - -"I have done it already." - -"No matter; do it again, for my peace of mind." - -"I will try; au revoir!" - -I returned to Agathe, who laughed till the tears came. I had not as yet -thought of mentioning the silhouette to her; that was the bouquet for -dessert. My neighbor's profile was pasted on a pink card, and we saw two -lines written at the bottom. Poetry of Raymond's composition: that -should be a curiosity. - - "My profile with these little Loves is surrounded, - Since I feel every day, love, for thee love unbounded." - -Ingenious, in very truth! worthy of Berthellemot! But as we noticed that -one of the little Loves was standing on his nose, we concluded that it -should read "I smell," instead of "I feel." Agathe proposed at first to -stick my neighbor's likeness on the mirror in our dining room; but she -changed her mind. She put it carefully away, intending to have copies -made of it, which she proposed to enclose in amorous circulars composed -from Raymond's billets-doux, and to send them to all the milliner's -apprentices of her acquaintance, taking care to write at the bottom the -address of the original of the portrait. - -The champagne finished what the stimulating dinner had begun; we were in -the mood to say and do all sorts of foolish things. Agathe stuffed -herself with sweetmeats and jelly; I drew the corks; the wine foamed and -sparkled, and soon passed from our glasses to our lips; we no longer -knew what we were saying, but we knew very well what we were doing! -Agathe threw aside all restraint; and if Raymond was listening, surely -he must have thought that we were fighting. - -But the champagne, which effervesces when it is first poured out, will -not effervesce again unless it is well shaken, and in due time refuses -to effervesce at all. In like manner, readers, the volcanoes which have -displayed the greatest activity become extinct! In like manner, readers -of the gentler sex, those seductive fires which your lovely eyes emit, -and to which you owe so many conquests, will die away. Everything has -its day, alas! in nature; everything falls to ruin and decay; everything -dies. It is the universal law; for that we are born, and each step in -life is a step toward the grave; there is no possibility there of -arranging compromises. - - "Death hath rigors unexampled; - Vainly pray we to her; - The cruel creature stuffs her ears - And lets us shout at will. - The poor man in his thatch-roofed cottage - Is subject to her laws; - The guard who stands at the Louvre gates - Protects not kings from her." - -I cannot say how the champagne led me to this quotation; however, I am -sure that you will not take it ill of me; these lines are never -misplaced, and I would like, indeed, to have been the author of them. - -We had become virtuous then, in action at all events. I looked at my -watch; almost eight o'clock! The deuce! and my rendezvous. The champagne -had not entirely deprived me of memory, but I confess that Agathe was -responsible for the loss of a large part of my zeal. - -Raymond must have been on the watch at the Caf Turc for a long while; -as for Gerville, we had seen him leave the house more than an hour -before; so that there was nothing to detain us. My companion donned her -bonnet and shawl and tried to assume a demure and modest air, which she -was unable to master, even by lowering her eyes. I did what I could to -maintain a grave demeanor and a steady gait; that infernal champagne -always did go to my head! However, we could safely show ourselves on -the boulevard; we were only a little giddy. - -We left the Mridien, where Raymond had paid for everything. The hostess -and waitresses saluted us with smiling faces. - -"Is there anything amusing in our looks?" I asked Agathe. - -"No; but do you suppose that those people don't divine that we've been -making a fool of Raymond? Perhaps they think he's my husband." - -"Oh! that would be rather too much!" - -"Bah! such things have been seen." - -"Here we are at the Caf Turc; shall we go in?" - -"What for?" - -"To relieve Raymond, who's doing sentry duty there." - -"Let him stay there; I've no desire to be bored any more with his love; -I have had enough of it. Everything has turned out as I wanted; but as -such adventures never happen twice, I assure you that he will never -inveigle me into a private dining room again." - -"Poor Raymond! This _partie fine_ will have been very profitable to him, -won't it? But here's the Chteau d'Eau; someone is waiting for me here, -and I must leave you." - -"What! already?" - -"Our play is ended, my dear girl; we can be of no further assistance to -each other; let us not postpone our separation until ennui succeeds -pleasure, and the fumes of the champagne have entirely vanished; we -shall retain a pleasant memory of this meeting, at all events." - -"Adieu, then, my dear Eugne! may we enjoy ourselves as much when we -next meet!" - -Agathe went her way, and I started to make the circuit of the Chteau -d'Eau. - - - - -XVI - -THE ROSE WITHOUT THORNS - - -Six times I had walked around the pond. From time to time I halted in -front of the lions, which I contemplated from every point of view; then, -for variety's sake, I listened to the plash of the water as it fell into -the passage through which it flows back to the canals. All this was most -entertaining, no doubt, and still I began to weary of it. The sentinel -watched me closely; doubtless he began to look upon me as a suspicious -character. - -It grew dark, and I was on the point of going away, when I saw coming -toward me a woman in a little cap. Was it she at last? I dared not -flatter myself that it was; I had been mistaken so many times, for my -eyesight is not very good; but she continued to approach me. Yes, it was -really she. Caroline accosted me with a smiling face; she was not in her -best clothes; but there was a certain daintiness in her costume: her cap -was neatly tied, and her hair had been in curl papers all day, I would -have sworn; a woman does not take so much pains for a man to whom she -does not intend to listen. The girl seemed to me a sly minx enough! But -although the champagne had made me even more reckless than usual, I was -not inclined to offer my arm to a grisette, in a cap, within the walls -of Paris. - -"I was beginning to lose all hope of seeing you," I said. - -"Why? it's only a quarter past eight, and I can't get away from my shop -any earlier." - -"Let us go for a stroll in the fields." - -"In the fields? oh, no! it's too late. I can't be out later than nine; -my aunt would scold me." - -"That's a very tiresome aunt of yours. Let us go in somewhere." - -"No, I don't want to. Oh! if I should be seen with you!" - -I did not choose to tell her that I was no more anxious than she to -exhibit myself on the boulevard with her, for, after all, there were -some social conventions which I did not care to defy. She wore an apron -and a cap, and that fact annoyed me greatly. Certainly I think no more -of a milliner than of a flowermaker, but Agathe was dressed as a lady, -and I could afford to offer her my arm; a bonnet and shawl make a vast -difference in a woman; and that is one of the petty foibles to which a -young man has to submit when he goes into society, even though he -despise them. If Nicette had met me at noon instead of at midnight, I -certainly should not have escorted her to Madame Jrme's on foot. - -"Suppose we walk a little on Rue des Marais," said Caroline; "I am not -so much afraid of being seen there." - -"Very well." - -That suggestion was most welcome to me. We went down the stairs, took -the Passage du Wauxhall, and in a moment we were on Rue des Marais, a -street most favorable for sentimental promenades. Mademoiselle Caroline -seemed to know the best places. - -The subject of our conversation may be divined: between two lovers, -between a gallant and a coquette, between a pretty woman and a comely -youth, between a young man and a grisette, the same subject is always -discussed; they talk of love and nothing else. For centuries, love has -formed the staple subject of conversation between man and woman; many -observations must have been made thereupon, and still the theme is not -exhausted. To be sure, everyone treats it in his own way, but the end in -view is always the same, is it not? - -The fumes of the champagne led me to discuss the subject rather -cavalierly; Mademoiselle Caroline, who probably had not dined so -sumptuously as I had, stood on her dignity. I could obtain nothing from -her; she kept her aunt constantly to the fore, complaining of the -severity with which she was treated; but as she had no means of -providing for herself, she must needs submit to necessity. - -I fancied that I could divine the girl's ambition; she loved liberty, -referred with a sigh to the matter of bonnets and dresses, and seemed to -be as sick of her aunt as of her shop. I afforded her a glimpse of a -possible means of becoming free and happy; I dropped a word or two -concerning a nicely furnished little room of which she would be -mistress, where she could work as she chose, where, in short, everything -would be subject to her wishes. It was all very alluring, and -Mademoiselle Caroline listened very attentively; she did not reply in -words, but she sighed and looked down. I talked of dresses, theatres, -pleasure parties; she looked at me with a smile, and allowed me to steal -a very affectionate kiss. I had found her weak side: the girl was -disgusted with her present life; she longed to be her own mistress; in a -word, she wanted to have a chamber of her own. Those little grisettes -are all alike; that is what they all aspire to; as if when they once had -lodgings of their own their fortunes were made. I saw that the -flowermaker cherished that aspiration, and that until it was fulfilled -she would accord me no favors. That denoted, not love exactly, but -foresight and shrewdness. What should I do? Faith! one more foolish -thing. Caroline was fascinating; perhaps gratitude would attach her to -me. Gratitude, because I desired to seduce her! you will say. I agree -that it is hardly the fitting word, but observe that I gave her an -opportunity to reflect at leisure. - -"Caroline, does your aunt need you to support her?" - -"No, monsieur; on the contrary, I am sure that she wouldn't be at all -sorry to have me provided for." - -"I understand. And you have no other relations?" - -"No, monsieur." - -"And you two would part without regret?" - -"Oh, yes, indeed! for we often quarrel; and if I had been able to have a -room of my own, I'd have done it long ago." - -"In that case, you shall be in your own quarters to-morrow." - -"What, monsieur! do you mean it?" - -She jumped for joy, then checked herself, because she thought that she -ought not to let me see how delighted she was, but that it was incumbent -on her to make some show of hesitation. - -"But, monsieur, I don't know whether I ought to accept." - -"What is there to prevent?" - -"What will people say?" - -"It seems to me that that ought not to worry you so much as your aunt; -and as you are not afraid of making her angry, what do you care for what -strangers may say?" - -"That's so, monsieur; it makes no difference at all to me; besides, -several friends of mine have done it, and been no worse off for it." - -"Oh! there's no lack of examples. And so, my dear girl, be all ready at -this time to-morrow night. I will come here for you. Make up a little -bundle of whatever you need most, and I will take you to your room." - -"Well, as you insist upon it, until to-morrow! I'll be ready." - -"By the way, one more question. Who is that Monsieur Jules you were with -at Tivoli?" - -"Oh! he's a very well-behaved young fellow, who takes me out to walk -sometimes with my aunt." - -"I believe you; but even if he's a hundred times more well-behaved than -you say, you must promise me not to receive him at your room, and not to -go to walk with him any more." - -"Never fear; I know that I mustn't do that, and I don't mean to annoy -you in any way." - -"You are a dear girl; so it's decided, is it?" - -"Yes; until to-morrow; it's late and I must go." - -I took an earnest of our bargain from Caroline's lips; and she hurried -away, doubtless to prepare for the coming change in her situation. - -So I had arranged to keep Mademoiselle Caroline! The word had an ill -sound in my ears; in general, it is understood to refer to those old -libertines, ugly, stupid, and infirm, whom fortune alone has favored, -and who obtain by the power of gold favors which others often have -obtained without effort. Those men are rarely loved, and are almost -always deceived; I myself had taken enjoyment at their expense; and I -was going to keep Caroline! No, I was going to establish her in -lodgings, that was all; I might perhaps make her a little present now -and then, but she must continue to work; I had no inclination to gratify -all her whims; therefore, I was her lover, not her keeper. - -We always endeavor to look at our own actions in the most favorable -light; moreover, Caroline was really pretty; I had been sighing for her -many days, and at last my hopes were to be fulfilled. I persuaded myself -that she loved me, although I had detected nothing in her conduct to -demonstrate it; but it is so pleasant to flatter one's self that one has -aroused that sentiment! She was a flirt, but I would steady her; she -would see no one but me, go out with no one but me; she would do -whatever I desired, and she would be faithful to me; that is the way I -arranged matters in my mind. - -The next morning I considered what I had to do; I had no time to lose. I -dressed in haste, and as I closed my door I ran into Raymond, who was -coming to pay me a visit, in his morning gown. - -"Going out already?" he said. - -"Yes, neighbor; I have a great deal to do to-day." - -"The devil! I wanted to talk with you." - -"You must wait until another time." - -"You didn't join me yesterday at the Caf Turc; I waited in the garden -till ten o'clock." - -"I am very sorry. Adieu!" - -"But I say, what about my picture? Has Agathe my picture?" - -I had ceased to listen, and was at the foot of the stairs. I scoured the -neighborhood in search of a suitable room. I wanted one of which I could -have immediate possession, and one that was not far from my own -lodgings. I had not succeeded in finding what I desired,--they were all -either too high up, or too dark, or too dirty,--and I was walking along -with my nose in the air, looking for signs, when, as I paused in front -of a porte cochre, I heard a faint cough near me. It seemed to me to be -a simulated cough; I turned, and saw Nicette. I was within two yards of -her stand and had no idea of it. Nicette looked at me, then lowered her -eyes; she dared not bow to me or speak to me by daylight. Poor child! At -that moment I remembered her bouquet, which I had entirely forgotten; I -had never thanked her for her thoughtfulness. I walked up to her, and, -as I selected a few flowers, told her in an undertone how deeply touched -I was by her remembrance. She blushed with pleasure, and I walked away -followed by her eyes. - -At last I found what I wanted, on Rue Caumartin; two small rooms which -were very neat and clean, very light, and could be occupied at once. It -only remained to furnish them; and with plenty of money nothing is so -easy. I hastened to an upholsterer's, bought all that I required, and -had it sent to the house with me. In less than three hours the little -suite was completely furnished. At first I intended to supply only what -was strictly necessary, but my self-esteem interfered; I determined to -give Caroline a pleasant surprise; she must have an easy-chair for -resting, and a sofa for us two. A pretty woman must have plenty of -mirrors; but, above all else, she must have a dressing table and a -comfortable bed. She must have curtains to shield her from the gaze of -her neighbors; and they must be lined, to lessen the glare of the sun; -lastly, she must have a little clock, so that we should not forget the -time while talking of love, and I did not expect to talk of anything -else to Caroline. All these little details carried me much further than -I had at first proposed; but I would try to economize in some other -direction, and those were extraordinary expenses and of infrequent -occurrence. - -At last everything was ready; I had the keys of the apartment. There was -no concierge in the house; that meant one less spy. But I must provide -for everything; Caroline would come that evening to take up her abode in -that quarter, which was unfamiliar to her; I must, at the very least, be -prepared to offer her some supper; surely there was a restaurant in the -neighborhood, and I would go at once to order a dainty repast. But had I -thought of everything that required to be done before my mistress should -take possession of her new abode? would she have everything she needed? -I decided to place fifteen louis in the commode, with which she could -provide for her immediate wants; for in the first days of her changed -position she would hardly feel like working, and that would be very -excusable, a girl's head is so easily turned! But we become accustomed -to everything, and it seemed to me that if my pretty flowermaker chose -to be respectable and orderly, and to behave herself, she might be very -happy. - -I went to the restaurant and ordered a dainty supper for nine o'clock. -Then I set about trying to kill time until evening; it was dinner time, -but I was not hungry; no matter! I determined to dine, as that would -give me some occupation. When I had dined, it was six o'clock; I had -still two hours and a half before me, which would never end, I thought. -I decided to take a walk; it occurred to me that I should not be sorry -to meet Raymond, to divert my thoughts. So I went to Rue Vivienne, where -the milliner's shop was in which Agathe was engaged; I was sure that -Raymond would be prowling about the neighborhood. - -As I drew near the shop, I saw a number of people collected about a -paper pasted on the wall within a few yards of the door. I was not in -the habit of stopping to read about lost dogs or other chattels; but I -saw that everybody was laughing, and concluded that it was not one of -those ordinary placards. I walked toward the crowd and listened: - -"It's a good joke," said one. - -"It's a most excellent trick," said another; "I'm sure it's a good -likeness; I recognize that profile." - -I pushed my way to the front, and--what did I see? Raymond's silhouette -pasted on a great white sheet of paper, with these words written above -in huge letters: - - "Notice to ladies, young and old. The original of this portrait is - looking for a lady of from fifteen to thirty-six years who is - willing to accept a dinner in a private dining room." - -I readily guessed the author of that piece of deviltry. Agathe and her -shopmates were standing in the doorway, laughing till they cried to see -the crowd in front of the silhouette and to hear the various remarks. I -was moved to pity for poor Raymond; if I had dared, I would have removed -his unlucky face, thus exposed to the laughter of the passers-by. To be -sure, it was hardly possible to recognize it in that black profile; but -my neighbor had a very peculiar cast of countenance; and the artist, -unluckily for Raymond, had caught his likeness perfectly; indeed, he had -had abundant time to practise, as Raymond had passed the whole evening -in his booth. - -Among the spectators I noticed little Friquet, whom one could always be -sure of finding in front of posters, caricature shops, cake sellers, -street singers, and all sorts of open-air shows. The little fellow had -recognized Raymond; he was holding his sides with laughter, and crying: - -"I say! I know him! It's Monsieur Raymond; he comes to my aunt's house -to sing! Oh! it's he, sure enough! What a shame to paste him up there!" - -And although he characterized it as a shame, the rascal kept repeating: - -"I know him: it's Monsieur Raymond, who comes to my aunt's." - -I was about to walk away, when I turned and saw Raymond parading in -front of Agathe's shop, playing the dandy and ogling her with -significant glances, to which she replied only with roars of laughter. - -The poor devil was walking toward his portrait; if Friquet saw him, he -was lost; the little clerk would not fail to make him known to the -crowd. I determined to try to save him from that humiliation. I hastened -toward him, took his arm, and tried to lead him away with me. - -"Come, my dear Raymond, come; let's take coffee together." - -"I can't do it, my friend; I am here for a purpose, you see. I am -watching Agathe; I want to speak to her." - -"You can speak to her later; come on with me." - -"No; this seems to me a favorable moment; she doesn't take her eyes off -me." - -The little traitress was, in truth, making the most ridiculous faces at -him, for fear he would go away. Monsieur Raymond, who had never known -her to look at him like that, and who saw that all the shopgirls had -their eyes on him, was beside himself with delight; he swaggered along, -leaning on his cane; to no purpose did I pull him by the arm, it was -impossible to induce him to lose sight of the milliner's shop. But he -noticed the crowd assembled a few steps away. - -"There's something over yonder; let's see what it is." - -"Pshaw! it isn't worth while; an offer of a reward for a lost dog, or an -advertisement of some new oil to prevent the hair from falling out or -turning white." - -"I tell you, my dear fellow, those oils aren't to be despised! For my -part, I try every one that comes out; I must confess that they often -give me a headache, but a man must risk something to retain his youth, -you must agree. However, I don't think that's what they're looking at; -see how they're all laughing! It must be something very amusing." - -"Don't you know that in Paris the merest trifle is enough to collect a -hundred people?" - -"No matter; I want to see what it is; I like to laugh when I have an -opportunity. I'll come back in a minute and tell you about it." - -It was impossible to keep him away; he had already crossed the gutter -with an agility of which I had not deemed him capable; and there he was -in the crowd, forcing his way to the front with hands and elbows. The -milliners did not lose sight of him. I too was anxious to witness the -effect that his silhouette produced upon him. Just as he reached the -wall and stood motionless in front of his likeness, unable to believe -his eyes, the little clerk, who was still among the crowd, espied him, -uttered an exclamation, and, overjoyed to be able to point him out to -the bystanders, called out to him: - -"That's a picture of you, Monsieur Raymond; it looks just like you." - -And all the young men repeated with him: - -"It's Monsieur Raymond; he comes to my aunt's!" - -My neighbor pulled his hat over his eyes, so that one could see nothing -but the tip of his nose; he tried to fly from the spot, and hurled -himself among the loungers, who took the keenest delight in barring his -path, bombarding him with jests and hootings. Raymond was beside -himself; he pushed so hard that he succeeded in breaking out a path; and -as he strode away, the laughter from the milliner's shop completely -broke his heart. He went like the wind; but his hat was so far over his -eyes that he could not see where he was going, and he collided with a -blind man led by a dog which carried a bowl in its mouth. The shock -overturned the poor devil, who sat down on the sidewalk with an emphatic -oath; the dog, seeing its master fall, dropped its bowl and sprang at -Raymond; the blind man cried _thief_! because he heard his sous rolling -on the ground; and Raymond swore because the dog was snapping at his -legs. The crowd ran up to restore peace and put the beggar on his feet; -but no one dared to approach him, because he was laying about him with -his stick, thinking that he was belaboring the person who had thrown him -down; while Raymond struggled with the dog, which had taken his leg as a -substitute for the bowl and would not relax its grip. - -At last, the blind man was raised to his feet, and they succeeded in -replacing the bowl between the jaws of the faithful beast that had -fought so valiantly for its master. As it was necessary to compensate -the poor devil, who was rubbing his posteriors and demanding his money, -my neighbor was compelled to put his hand in his pocket, while -everybody shouted at him: - -"Come, Monsieur Raymond, you must be generous; you shouldn't rush -through the streets of Paris like a madman!" - -To escape the crowd, which was becoming larger every moment, Raymond -emptied his pockets; but the more he gave, the more the blind man -complained of his bruises. - -"These villains are never satisfied!" said my neighbor; "here's twelve -francs for your posterior, and thirty sous for the money you lost; I -think that's quite enough." - -"You have hurt me," said the blind man, shouting like a deaf person; "I -shan't be able to walk for a week; you must make up to me what I shall -lose by that." - -"Well, here's twelve francs more." - -"That's not enough, bourgeois." - -"What! that makes three francs a day, and still you're not satisfied! -Your trade seems to be a good one!" - -"I'm a poor father of a family; I've got five children." - -"Why doesn't your wife lead you, instead of trusting you to a dog?" - -"My wife sings on Place Maubert, kind gentleman." - -"And your children?" - -"My oldest, a boy, sings on Boulevard des Italiens; the second, a girl, -sings on Rue du Grand-Hurleur; the third, another girl, at Montparnasse; -the fourth, a boy, on the Champs-lyses; and the youngest boy is just -beginning to sing on Rue du Petit-Lion. We all sing, kind gentleman." - -"Well! you're a good one to complain! People who sing from morning till -night, and won't take three francs for a day's receipts! I should like -to know if there's a family in Paris better off than that!" - -The crowd laughed at my neighbor's reflections. The blind man, who was -inclined to be ugly, was threatened with having to go to exhibit his -bruises to the magistrate, who had a regular tariff for bruised -posteriors of all grades. As he had no desire to expose his hurts to the -authorities, fearing a considerable abatement of his claims, he went his -way with his dog, Raymond with an insult to nurse, and I with the -silhouette, which I had torn down and pocketed. - -The hour for me to meet Caroline had arrived. I took a cab and was -driven to a point behind the Chteau d'Eau. There I alighted, and -strolled along the boulevard, awaiting my young runaway. This time she -soon appeared, with several boxes in her hand. She smiled as soon as she -saw me; there was less restraint in her manner, more affection in her -glance, than I had seen before. Ah! I was sure now that I held sway in -her heart. - -I led her to the cab; we put the boxes in, then took our places side by -side. I told the cabman to urge his horses, for I was impatient to -arrive and enjoy her surprise. At last, after a rapid journey, during -which she had allowed me to hold her in my arms and to tell her again -and again that I would always love her, we reached Rue Caumartin and -drew up in front of her new abode. - -I opened the house door; I paid the cabman; Caroline gathered up her -boxes, and I took her hand to lead her upstairs; for it was dark and we -could hardly see. I was amazed that her hand did not tremble in mine. At -the moment of such a tremendous change in her position she was not at -all excited. She was a young woman of great strength of character--that -was clear. - -At last we were in her apartment; an old woman on the same landing gave -us a light, and Caroline was able to examine her new quarters. She -looked about with rapture; I could see her joy gleaming in her eyes. - -"Oh! how pretty it is! how pretty it is!" she kept saying, again and -again; and she sat down on the easy-chair, on the sofa, looked at -herself in the mirror, examined her curtains, her commode, her clock, -her table, her chairs. The bed was the only thing that she dared not -examine. Was it from modesty? - -"You are satisfied, then?" I said inquiringly, as I took her on my -knees. - -"Why, how could I help being? These rooms are charming; everything is so -elegant, and nothing is lacking; I shall be just like any _comme il -faut_ woman." - -"And you think you will be happy here?" - -"I feel already as if I could never go anywhere else." - -"I am delighted to have succeeded so well; everything here is yours." - -"Mine? really? You are too generous!" - -"And if you don't love me, you are at liberty to refuse to see me; I do -not intend to put any price upon what I do." - -"Oh! what an idea! if I didn't love you, would I have consented to come -with you? would I accept anything from you?" - -I allowed her to say no more; a kiss closed her mouth. The doorbell rang -violently, and Caroline started up in alarm. - -"Who can that be?" she asked. - -I calmed her and opened the door. - -It was the man from the restaurant, with the supper I had ordered; that -sight restored Caroline's gayety completely. We set the table; the -basket was unloaded, the dishes placed on the table, the waiter -dismissed. We were alone, on our own premises, our own masters. I was -not very hungry, but I was pleased to see that my companion did honor to -the repast. She partook of everything and declared that everything was -good. - -"At all events," I said to myself, "she hasn't begun to play the -_petite-matresse_ yet; she doesn't try to conceal her pleasure or her -appetite." - -She admitted that she never had such a good supper at her aunt's, and -that she loved good things to eat, sweetmeats, and muscat wine. -Thereupon I filled her glass with muscatel. I did not wish to make her -tipsy; but a little "point," I thought, would banish the last traces of -ceremony that still held her gayety in check. - -Caroline was bright; her conversation abounded in sallies and -repartee--overabounded perhaps. I foresaw that she was likely to go far -and to become a leader in her class. I could understand that she must -have been bored to death on Rue des Rosiers; she secretly longed to -shine upon a greater stage, because she had a presentiment of the -triumph that awaited her. I determined to do my best not to encourage -her taste for luxury, fine dresses, and extravagance; for it would be -the devil's own job to make her take a different road when she was -fairly started. - -But the clock struck eleven. - -"Already!" said Caroline; "how the time flies!" - -I was by her side, I held her in my arms, I rested my head on her -shoulder; silence had followed our bursts of merriment, but silence -expresses the emotion of the heart better than the noisy outbursts of -folly. - -"It is very late," said Caroline, in an undertone. - -"Must I go?" I said; "aren't you your own mistress now?" - -She lowered her eyes and made no reply; but did I need any other avowal -than that? She defended herself very feebly; and I was such an expert -lady's-maid that in an instant she was in her night costume, if it may -be called a costume. To be sure, I tore and broke whatever came in my -way: strings, laces, and pins. Those were very trifling obstacles; -luckily, fashion does not decree that our ladies must be clad in -corselets of steel! but even so, love would find the defect in them. -There was one pleasanter obstacle which I desired to find; but I am -bound to confess that it did not exist. Ah! Mademoiselle Caroline, I -might have suspected as much! But what does it matter, after all? Was -she any less pretty on that account? No, to be sure; perhaps, indeed, it -was that that gave to her face that expression of coquettish malice -which fascinated me. But I could not help thinking that another man had -obtained much more than I without providing her with an apartment; -however, for my encouragement, I recalled the ballad: - - "The first step's taken unreflecting." - -Not until the second does reflection take a hand; therefore, there is -much more glory in inducing the second step than the first; I tried to -persuade myself that that was so. - -At all events, I had no choice but to make the best of it, as there was -no remedy. If I had been her husband--why, then I should have done just -the same; for it is quite enough to be persuaded yourself that you are a -Georges Dandin; I see no need of proclaiming it from the housetops. - -So I kept all these reflections to myself; I bestowed upon Caroline -caresses which she returned with a vivacity and a force of sentiment of -which I should not have deemed her capable, and which I certainly -should not have found in an innocent; that was one source of -consolation. She swore that she would continue to love me, that she -would be happy with no one but me, that she did not want to see anybody -else, that she would always be faithful to me and had no desire to win -the love of any other man. I said about the same to her, and we fell -asleep with these touching oaths of love on our lips. - -When I awoke, it was broad daylight. Caroline was still asleep. It was -only six o'clock, so I did not wake her; she must have been fatigued. I -softly imprinted a kiss on lips which seemed to invite it even when -asleep, and I left that bed where I had found in my inamorata's arms all -the delights of sensual pleasure, save only--but why think of that? - -I dressed without making any noise, for I wanted to go away without -waking her. I knew that very close companionship soon gives birth to -satiety; therefore, I proposed not to see her too often, so that when we -did meet we should enjoy ourselves more. Oh! I had had experience! When -it is not used with care, there is nothing that becomes exhausted so -quickly as love. And then, although Mademoiselle Caroline pleased me -immensely, I had no idea of living with her altogether. When I was fully -dressed, I glanced once more at my new friend, then crept from the room -and closed the door very softly. - -What a difference between Paris at six in the morning and the same Paris -at six in the evening. What perfect tranquillity reigned in that -quarter, which, a few hours later, would resound with the rumbling of -calches and tilburys, with the trampling of brilliantly attired -equestrians, with the shouts of coachmen and footmen, with the uproar of -tradesmen and foot passengers! A few milkwomen alone gave life to the -picture. I walked toward the boulevards. How cool it was! what a -delicious hour for walking! I could not resist the desire to walk the -length of the boulevards before the dust and tumult of the day had -transformed them into the rendezvous of dandies and _petite-matresses_. -I felt, too, that the air I was breathing did me good, that it -tranquillized my mind; and I understood how one may at six in the -morning repent of what one did at six in the evening. - -But the shops began to open, the tradesmen took down their shutters, the -concierges were sweeping down their steps, blinds were being raised, -lazy folk were beginning to yawn and stretch their arms, working girls -came out to buy their ounce of coffee, old bachelors their roll, -maid-servants their beef stew, and old women their little pitcher of -cream. The messenger went to the wine shop for his glass of wine, and -the cabman for his glass of brandy, in order to begin the day aright! -The peasant women, who had already done half their day's work, remounted -their donkeys and returned to the fields; and I left the boulevards and -went home. - -Three-fourths of the tenants were still asleep. It was only half-past -seven, and I met nobody but a few maid-servants. My neighbor was not -awake as yet, I sincerely hoped. Poor Raymond! after his adventure of -the preceding evening, I presumed that we must have a grand explanation. -He must inevitably be in a rage with me; for I credited him with -sufficient common sense to understand that the young women in the -milliner's shop had deliberately made sport of him. - -On reaching my door, I found something attached to the knob. It was a -bouquet from Nicette, already a little withered; it had been there since -the evening before, no doubt. The little flower girl did not forget me; -and I, who might have gone to say good-morning to her at six o'clock, -had not even thought of her. I very seldom passed her shop. And yet, -Nicette was well worth going out of one's way to see; but for the last -few days I had been so engrossed that I had had no time to think of my -protge; indeed, I had vowed not to think too much of her, and I -believed that I should do well to keep my vow--for her sake especially. -I wanted her to forget me, for I believed her to be very susceptible and -quite capable of becoming deeply attached to the man she should chance -to love.--"No," I thought, "I will not go to see her; that is the wiser -course. She will end by forgetting me."--But I had a feeling that I -should be very sorry if she did. - -I detached the bouquet and entered my rooms; they too reminded me of -Nicette and of the night we had passed together there. That night in no -wise resembled the night which had just gone, and which had been marked -by nothing that was abnormal in my experience. I had spent and expected -to spend many nights as pleasurable as the last. But those nights are -very rare when a girl of sixteen, emotional and attractive, succeeds, -while she beguiles us by her charms, in forcing us to respect her -innocence. - -I was not so happy as I should have been. Having become the possessor of -an adorable woman,--for Caroline was truly adorable, and she lost -nothing by being seen in a simple nglig,--what more could I desire? -Ah! I had been deceived so often, that I was justified in being fearful. -My new mistress was at least as coquettish as my previous ones had been, -and that fact was not very reassuring. But why torment myself in -anticipation? Moreover, I had promised myself to be impassive and to -take things philosophically. Yes, I had made myself that promise, but I -had not succeeded in keeping it; perhaps with time and a little more -experience I might succeed. They say that one becomes wonted to -everything, but in my opinion it is very hard to become wonted to -anything that wounds our self-esteem. - -Someone knocked; it was Madame Dupont with a letter. - -"Give it to me, Madame Dupont." - -My concierge had a most amusing way of doing even the simplest things -with an air of great importance and mystery. She handed me the paper, -accompanying it with a reverence which meant a great number of things. -Noticing that the letter was folded simply, not sealed, I concluded that -she knew its contents; and judging from her manner, they must be of -serious import. - -"Who gave you this, Madame Dupont?" - -"Monsieur Raymond." - -"My neighbor?" - -"Yes, monsieur; and he told me to bring him your answer." - -"Let us see what he has to say." - - "MONSIEUR DORSAN: - - "We must have a serious explanation with regard to the dinner of - the day before yesterday. The matter cannot be settled elsewhere - than in the Bois de Boulogne, where I shall expect you to-day - between noon and one o'clock. I shall be alone; do you come alone. - I believe you to be too honorable a man to fail to be on hand. I - shall be near Porte Maillot. - - "RAYMOND." - -I laughed like a madman when I read this epistle. Madame Dupont, whom -Raymond doubtless had told that we were going to fight, seemed amazed at -my hilarity, and asked me what answer she should give him. - -"Go," I said, "and assure my neighbor that I will be on hand promptly." - -My concierge, proud of her ambassadorship in a matter of such moment, -made me the inevitable reverence and returned with my answer to Raymond, -who was probably waiting in her lodge, swaggering gallantly before the -gossips and housemaids, so that the whole household might know that he -had an affair of honor on hand. I confess that I did not expect such a -challenge from my neighbor. What weapons should I take? He did not -mention the subject, and I had an idea that none would be needed; -however, I concluded to put my pistols in my pocket. Who could say? -perhaps I had judged Raymond ill. Moreover, madmen have their lucid -moments, misers are sometimes extravagant, tyrants have paroxysms of -kindliness, coquettes moments of sincerity, rascals gleams of honesty; -and cowards, too, may have their days of valor. - - - - -XVII - -MY DUEL WITH MY NEIGHBOR - - -I went to the rendezvous at the appointed hour. The weather was fine, -delightful for walking, and everybody was out of doors. I could not -avoid the reflection that my neighbor had selected for our duel an hour -when it was very hard not to be seen; I knew that he was very fond of -putting himself in evidence, but it seemed to me that that was not an -opportune occasion for so doing; he was evidently quite capable of -choosing his ground in front of a guardhouse. However, I concluded to be -patient and to await events before judging him. - -When I arrived at Porte Maillot I did not see Raymond. It was not yet -one o'clock, so I strolled about in the neighborhood. Little did I think -that morning that I should go to the Bois de Boulogne before night, and -alone. Caroline, I thought, must be surprised at my non-appearance. In -truth, it did imply rather a lack of warmth; and if she were exacting, -she would be justified in scolding me. But I knew a sure way to make -peace with her; it is easy enough to find a way when love still exists; -only in old liaisons, or between those who have been long married, do -quarrels destroy love, because in such cases the methods of -reconciliation are no longer the same. - -At half-past one, no one had appeared. Could it be that my neighbor had -deliberately sent me on a fool's errand; I realized that he was likely -to require a vast deal of preparation before fighting a duel; but it -seemed to me that he had had plenty of time since eight o'clock in the -morning to make his little arrangements, and to go about to tell all his -acquaintances that he had an affair of honor on hand. Could he have gone -to warn the police? Such things had been done; but, no, it was he who -had sent the challenge; I was doing him an injustice. Poor Raymond! the -dinner episode was terrific, beyond question, and he must have been -terribly incensed at me, especially if he believed me to be the author -also of the ingenious trick of pasting his picture on the wall on Rue -Vivienne. But why that rhodomontade of sending me a challenge by the -concierge? if he had no intention of fighting, he should have come to -see me at my rooms; I would have confessed my faults, while laughing at -the affair, for I am not one of those men who refuse to atone for the -foolish pranks they have committed except by cutting the throats of the -persons they have offended. I consider that there is more glory in -avowing one's fault frankly, and fighting afterward if the avowal does -not give satisfaction. - -Almost two o'clock! I lost my patience; I was tired of walking; -moreover, the weather had changed, and the sky was overcast; a storm -seemed impending, and I had no desire to await it in the woods. The -idlers had become fewer, the riders were digging their spurs into their -horses' sides, the coachmen cracking their whips; everybody was hurrying -back to the city. I determined to go with the rest. But who were the -three men walking so fast toward the woods? I soon recognized the one -who marched so proudly at their head: it was Raymond. He had brought two -seconds, after telling me that he would come alone. But, no matter; -doubtless he would be obliging enough to let me have one of them. I -began to think that he had urged me not to bring one because he -preferred to choose one for me. - -As the three drew near, I recognized Raymond's seconds: one was Vauvert -the melomaniac, the other Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche. Parbleu! -thought I, there is sport ahead! I had a strong suspicion that my -neighbor was preparing some trick he had conceived. What in the devil -had induced him to choose such seconds? Friquet only was lacking; I -should not have been surprised to find him standing guard a short -distance away, ready to summon the police at the first signal from his -uncle. - -All three were drenched with perspiration; and yet, they had had time -enough to make the trip. Apparently, they had postponed their decision -long enough to be sure of warming themselves up on the road. Raymond was -as red as a turkey cock, Vauvert pale as a bride, and the baron made -such fiendish grimaces that I could not tell just the color of his face. -They seemed more at ease when they saw that I was alone. I very much -regretted that I had not brought a second; I had an idea that by doing -so I should have disarranged Raymond's plan. - -They saluted me as soon as they caught sight of me; I returned their -salutation, then went back into the woods I had just left. - -"Where are you going? Wait, wait!" cried Vauvert, stammering and hardly -able to speak at all, he was so excited. I pretended not to hear, and -went farther into the woods. - -Vauvert started to run after me; he overtook me and seized my hand, and -I felt that he was trembling like a rabbit. - -"Where on earth are you going, my dear fellow? why do you go so far into -the woods? Don't you see that we're going to have a storm?" - -"It seems to me that the affair that brings us here can hardly be -adjusted on the highroad; it would be as sensible to choose Boulevard -Saint-Denis for the battlefield." - -"My friend, I hope that--at all events----" - -"As for the storm, that needn't disturb us; on the contrary, it will -keep bystanders away." - -While I was talking with Vauvert, I heard my neighbor shouting in the -distance: - -"No adjustment, Monsieur Vauvert, no adjustment! I don't propose to -consent to any compromise; I am determined to fight!" - -"You hear him!" said Vauvert; "he's crazy. Oh! he's a terrible fellow -when he gets started. He has said everywhere that he proposed to have -your life, or that you should have his." - -I could not help laughing at Raymond's bluster; and I ventured to -reassure poor Vauvert, who did not know which way to turn, having never -been present at such a function. At last we were joined by my adversary -and the Baron de Witcheritche, the latter of whom wore a three-cornered -hat, eight inches high, cocked over his left ear, which gave him the -aspect of a bully from the Rue Coquenard. - -"Monsieur!" said Raymond, striding toward me with a warlike air, "I -wrote you that I should come alone, and that was my intention; but, as I -passed through the Palais-Royal, I met my friend Vauvert, who had come -out to buy a roll for his second breakfast, and who, when he learned -that I had an affair of honor with you, dropped everything to come with -me, and----" - -"That is to say," interrupted Vauvert, "that you didn't tell me that -that was what was up, and that I didn't find it out till we got to the -barrier; for, when you saw me, you grabbed my arm and didn't give me -time to pay for my newspaper." - -Raymond pretended not to hear what Vauvert said, and continued: - -"So I yielded to his urgent entreaties. Besides, he is as much your -friend as mine, and his presence cannot be disagreeable to you. As for -Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche, we met him at the barrier, going out -to dine in the country with his good wife. I thought it better to have -two seconds than one, because then I could let you have one of them. -Monsieur de Witcheritche consented to leave madame la baronne, who is -waiting for him under the trees not far away. He will be my second then, -and Monsieur Vauvert yours, if agreeable to you." - -Monsieur le baron, who had bowed every time that his name was mentioned, -took his place beside Raymond, and Vauvert stood behind me. - -"Monsieur Raymond," said I, "it seems to me that we might very well -settle this affair between ourselves, without troubling these gentlemen. -I am afraid that madame la baronne may get wet during our engagement, -and Vauvert would be better off at his desk than here." - -"That is true enough," said Vauvert, who asked nothing better than to go -away; "I have a great deal of work to do to-day, and I'm afraid I shall -be reproved by my deputy chief clerk." - -"Matame la paronne, she haf ov te shtorm no fear; she loaf mooch to see -te lidening flashes," said Monsieur de Witcheritche, smiling so -expansively that his mouth seemed to reach from ear to ear. - -"Well, since these gentlemen have been good enough to come," said I, -with a smile, "it must not be for nothing; so I accept Monsieur Vauvert -for my second." - -Vauvert fell back with an air of dismay. - -"Don't be alarmed," I said to him; "seconds rarely fight; if, however, I -should fall, and you should choose to avenge me, it will be in your -power." - -"I, my dear friend! I do not need to tell you how fond I am of you; and -certainly--I wish the affair might be settled amicably. Friends ought -not to fall out!--Monsieur de Witcheritche, we ought not to allow these -gentlemen to fight." - -The baron seemed much more deeply interested in something that he had in -his pocket than in our combat, and to no purpose did Vauvert, with tears -in his eyes, strive frantically to make him understand that it was their -duty to reconcile Raymond and myself. But my neighbor was obstinate. - -"I intend to fight," he said; "nobody shall insult me with impunity! I -have seen Monsieur Gerville, and I know that he did not dine with you -and Agathe; I need say no more! And my silhouette on the wall--that was -a betrayal of confidence! You must give me satisfaction, Monsieur -Dorsan; this affair will make a sensation." - -"Oh! bless my soul, neighbor, I am at your service! Let us get through -with it, for it is going to rain, and I shall be distressed to have -these gentlemen get wet, and especially madame la baronne, who is under -the trees." - -"I am the insulted party; I have the choice of weapons." - -"That is true." - -"I am very skilful with the sword; I have taken lessons from the most -expert teacher in Paris; but I will not fight with anything but -pistols, because I don't wish to make an unfair use of my advantages." - -"That is very generous on your part; I divined your purpose and brought -some pistols along." - -As I spoke, I took mine from my pocket; I saw that Raymond was disturbed -and changed color; then he produced a pair of great holster pistols and -showed them to me. - -"That's all right," said I; "each of us will have his own pistols." - -"No, no! put yours back in your pocket; we must use mine. You understand -what an advantage I should have in using one of my pistols against one -of yours, which are two inches shorter." - -"Your behavior is truly noble. Very well, since you insist upon it." - -"I do, monsieur; besides, I have the choice of weapons, and I fight with -none but my own." - -"Very well; let us call our friends to load them." - -I turned to look for Vauvert, who, as soon as we produced our pistols, -had walked away in the direction of the highroad and could with -difficulty be induced to come near us. - -"The pistols are loaded," said Raymond; "I always look after that in -advance." - -"Ordinarily, my dear neighbor, that is the duty of the seconds." - -"Oh! but I don't trust anybody but myself with that. Besides, my friend -Witcheritche has examined them;--isn't that so, monsieur le baron?" - -The baron was busily engaged in wrapping in two thicknesses of paper -some small Neufchtel cheeses, which he seemed to fear would be -dissolved in his pocket by the rain; so he replied to my adversary's -question only by a smile of assent. Everything that I saw tended to -confirm my suspicions: Raymond's valor was unnatural; his insistence -upon using his own pistols, the pains he had taken to load them at home, -certainly implied some trickery on his part, which I was determined. He -handed me his pistols and asked me to choose one. - -"How many paces apart shall we stand?" I asked. - -"Why--about twenty-five." - -"Great God!" cried Vauvert; "why, that's point-blank range. Forty paces, -messieurs! that's quite near enough when you're hit!" - -"No; let's call it thirty; that's the most I can consent to.--Monsieur -de Witcheritche, come and measure the ground." - -Monsieur le baron regretfully parted from his cheeses, which he laid on -the grass, taking care to put his hat over them, for the rain was -beginning to fall violently. He came toward us; I took my place, and he -measured thirty gigantic paces, so that I could hardly see Raymond. As -for my second, he was so afraid of being hit that he did not know where -to go. He urged us to be very careful not to aim at the wrong man, and I -reassured him. Monsieur de Witcheritche gave the signal by beating time, -as if we were to play a Haydn quartette. - -Raymond fired, and either the noise or downright terror felled Vauvert -to the ground, where he lay with his face buried in the grass. I was not -touched; I did not even hear the bullet whistle by my ears. - -I suggested to my neighbor that we let it go at that. - -"No, no, fire!" he cried. - -"He is ein Zazar!" exclaimed the baron, in his admiration of Raymond's -courage. - -I was desirous to ascertain the truth. My second still lay at full -length on the ground; Monsieur de Witcheritche had thought it better to -retire to a considerable distance, behind a clump of trees; my adversary -turned his head aside, waiting for me to take aim, which I had no -purpose of doing, although convinced that his weapons were not -dangerous; but the baron's cheeses were within two yards of me, and I -discharged my pistol at them. The explosion blew the three-cornered hat -away, and a multitude of scraps of paper adhered to the little -Neufchtels. While I was laughing over the end of my duel, Raymond came -toward me with outstretched hand, shouting at a distance: - -"It's all settled, my friend; I am satisfied, embrace me!" - -"What!" said I; "you don't want another shot? I have pistols, too." - -"No, my dear fellow, let's forget it all; embrace me, I beg you." - -"So be it; I will do whatever is agreeable to you." - -While my neighbor threw himself into my arms, the baron ran to his -cheeses, and was like one turned to stone when he saw that they were all -speckled with bits of paper. - -"Mein jheese, tay shmell ov te bowder lige te teffel!" he said, putting -his nose to them. - -"A thousand pardons, monsieur le baron; but as I did not wish to fire at -my friend Raymond, I aimed in this direction; the bullet must have gone -through them." - -Raymond flushed to his ears; my ironical manner led him to fear that I -had detected his little fraud; but I did not care to deprive him of the -pleasure of being able to say everywhere that he had fought a duel. I -ran to my second, who was still on the ground, and urged him to rise; -he did not stir, and I saw that the poor devil had swooned during our -battle. I called Raymond to my assistance; he had a flask of strong -aromatic vinegar in his pocket, with which we inundated Vauvert's face, -and he finally came to himself. After feeling himself all over and -making sure that he was not wounded, he tried to make us think that his -swoon was caused by his affection for us both. We thanked him and set -him on his legs; but we had to take an arm each to help him to walk; for -he was in no condition to stand erect without our support. - -Monsieur de Witcheritche put the remains of his cheeses in his pocket -handkerchief, and we left the wood. The rain continued, but my second -could not walk fast, so that we were compelled to endure it. Raymond was -in the highest spirits; he was overjoyed by his day's experience. He -knew Vauvert, and he was sure that his duel would soon be the absorbing -topic of the whole company of amateur musicians, even if he himself -should not take pains to spread it everywhere. - -"You showed extraordinary courage, messieurs," said Vauvert, as we -marched along; "such sang-froid! such calmness! that was true valor!" - -"Oh! yez! yez! tese two chentlemens pe fery prave." - -"Oh! my neighbor Raymond's not like other men; I am sure that he would -fight the same way ten times a day." - -Raymond bowed, but said nothing. I fancied that he realized that I knew -how his pistols were loaded. - -At last, we spied madame la baronne seated under a large tree; her -husband ran to her and took her arm, and we walked toward the barrier. - -"I haf mooch abbetide," said Madame de Witcheritche to her husband. - -"Ve vill tine soon, matame." - -The couple bowed to us and quickened their pace. I presumed that they -were on the lookout for a restaurant; but I noticed that, all the way -from the barrier, two huge dogs had been following monsieur le baron, -who did all that he could to drive them away, but to no purpose. - -"Do those two dogs belong to Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche?" I asked -Vauvert. - -"No, I don't think so; I never saw at his place anything but poodles." - -"It's strange," said Raymond; "he must have something in his pocket that -attracts them." - -I looked for a cab, but the rain had caused them all to be taken up. We -had lost sight of Monsieur de Witcheritche and his wife, when we heard -loud cries, and soon saw the two dogs running for their lives, one with -a bologna sausage, the other with a bit of salt pork in its mouth. The -baron and baroness came running after them, crying: - -"Shtop tief! shtop tief! Ach! te file peasts! tey haf shtole our -tinner!" - -Madame la baronne, being weaker than her husband, was obliged to stop, -and told us how the two dogs had succeeded in extracting from monsieur -le baron's pocket the dinner she and her dear spouse, who had been a -long time arranging that little outing for her, expected to eat in the -country. - -While we were consoling the poor woman, Monsieur de Witcheritche, who -was not the man to abandon his sausage and his pork, kept on in pursuit -of the dogs, at which he threw all the stones he could find on the -road. He had already wounded one and compelled it to slacken its pace. -Hoping to hit the other, which was just passing the barrier, he threw a -great stone at it with all his force. But the stone was ill-aimed, and, -instead of striking the dog, struck the customs clerk in the eye, as he -was looking up at the sky to see if the storm were passing away. - -The poor man fell, crying: - -"I am dead!" - -His comrades ran to him. One of the dogs, which was then passing the -city limits, ran among the clerks' legs and made them stagger. The -second dog, trying to escape, was seized by monsieur le baron, who -thought of nothing but his dinner and pursued his course, unmindful of -anything else. He succeeded in catching the dog by the tail, and a -battle ensued between him and the animal, which refused to give up the -sausage. The soldiers from the neighboring post ran up in response to -the outcries of the clerks. The vehicles of all kinds passing in or out -were compelled to stop; the soldiers would allow no one to pass until -they had found out what the matter was. A crowd gathered to see what was -going on, and everyone put forward some conjecture. - -"It's an important prisoner whom they arrested just as he was leaving -the city," said one, "and it seems that he wounded the clerk who seized -him." - -"No; they've just discovered some contraband goods in one of those -wagons; it was being smuggled in." - -Amid the tumult, which was augmented by the barking of the dogs, the -baron shouted triumphantly: - -"I haf him! I haf him!" and he waved aloft the bologna sausage, which he -had snatched from his enemy's jaws; then, before the poor devil whose -eye he had put out had recovered consciousness, Monsieur de Witcheritche -slipped into the crowd and returned to his wife, leaving the clerks, -soldiers, and bystanders asking one another what it was all about. -Madame la baronne had recovered her husband, Vauvert was in a condition -to walk unaided, and Raymond began to play the dandy. I left the company -and took a cab to return to Paris. - - - - -XVIII - -A LITTLE DISSERTATION IN WHICH THERE IS NOTHING ENTERTAINING - - -When I arrived at Caroline's it was after five o'clock; my duel and its -sequel had prolonged my absence, and she scolded me for going away -without waking her, and said that she had been vexed at my delay. I -would have preferred that she should have been bored, but I realized -that she had had no leisure for that; there are so many thousand things -to do in a new apartment, to say nothing of the indispensable purchases. -She showed me a very modish bonnet that she had bought, and tried it on -for me. It was a fascinating one; however, at twenty years, with a -pretty face and a graceful figure, a woman might wear a sugar loaf on -her head and she would still be good-looking. It seemed to me that I -liked her better in her little cap than in a bonnet; but I concluded -that I should get used to it. - -The rest of the costume must necessarily correspond with the bonnet; -that was in the regular order. I have always wondered at the importance -which women attribute to all the gewgaws and trifles which are called -dress! at the amount of thought and calculation they waste upon the best -way of placing a flower or a ribbon! With what care they arrange a bit -of trimming, a bouquet, a curl! All this is sometimes the result of -several days' meditation! But let us not charge it to them as a crime: -it is to seduce us that they array themselves; we should be very -ungrateful to criticise what they do to please us. - -Caroline had changed already; she wore her new garb with much ease of -manner; she was no longer the grisette of Rue des Rosiers, but the -_petite-matresse_ of the Chausse d'Antin. Women form themselves in -everything more rapidly than we do. Observe yonder villager: after three -months in the city, he is still awkward, loutish, and embarrassed. But -this little peasant girl left her home only a week ago, and already her -parents would not recognize her; ere long she will not recognize her -parents. - -A fortnight had passed since Caroline's installation on Rue Caumartin. I -saw her every day; I dare not say that it was love that I felt for her; -certainly it was not a very impassioned love; but she still pleased me -as much as ever. I believed that she loved me more than at the beginning -of our liaison; at all events, she told me so. - -Things had not turned out precisely as I had arranged, for she had -ceased to go to her shop, and she could hardly be said to work in her -room; but, by way of compensation, she had acquired the manners of good -society, the tone of a lady, and the general aspect of an _lgante_. It -is true that I refused her nothing, although I frequently considered the -project of reducing my expenses. But how can you refuse anything to a -pretty woman who entreats you with a melting voice, and, while -entreating you, looks at you in a certain way? As for myself, I confess -that I have never had the strength to resist. It has been my misfortune, -perhaps. - -I began to discover that what I called gewgaws formed a very important -item in the keeping of a woman. I ruined myself in trifles: every day it -was a dress, a neckerchief, a hat, or a shawl! I do not know how -Caroline went about it, but she invariably proved to me that it was the -fashion, and, therefore, that it was necessary; I am too just to refuse -a woman what is necessary. But my income was insufficient; I had -borrowed; I was running in debt. What in heaven's name would happen if -she should take it into her head to want the superfluous! - -Every other day I found a bouquet at my door when I went home. My little -Nicette did not forget me, and I never went to see her; if I chanced to -pass her stand, I never thought of her being there and never glanced in -her direction! And yet, every time that I found a bouquet, I determined -that I would go to thank her; but Caroline gave me so much occupation -that I never had a free moment; every day there was some new pleasure -party; I never had the courage to refuse her; she knew a way to make me -approve all her plans. Her graceful ways charmed me, her wit fascinated -me, her merriment amused me; the hussy was so adroit in making the most -of all the gifts she had received from nature! - -One morning I received a note written in an unfamiliar hand. It was from -Madame de Marsan, who reproached me good-naturedly for not keeping the -promise I had made to attend her musical evenings, and invited me to a -small party she was giving at her country house. I had almost forgotten -Madame de Marsan, for I often forget a person who has set me on fire the -night before; a very lucky thing for one who takes fire so easily; it -proves that the heart has no share in the nonsense we call love. I -determined to go to the party in question, for I did not propose that -Mademoiselle Caroline should make me lose sight of all my acquaintances; -I ought not to abandon good society because she could not go thither -with me. The girl had already led me into too much folly! And there was -my sister, whose letter I had not answered, and who expected me from day -to day! I was not at all content with myself. But the torrent bore me -on; I closed my eyes and let myself go. - -Someone entered my room: it was my neighbor, whom I had not seen since -the day of our famous duel. He had a shrewd suspicion that I was not -taken in by his false gallantry--I who had witnessed his abject terror -on the day of the _partie fine_. I knew that he had made a great noise -about his valor, prating of his duel to everybody he saw; but he had -avoided meeting me in company; my presence would have embarrassed him in -his narrative of our combat. I wondered what he wanted of me. - -"Good-morning, my dear friend!" he began; "how goes the health this -morning?" - -"Why, I am inclined to think it goes too fast; I am going at a rapid -pace." - -"You must be prudent, neighbor." - -"You're a good one to talk about prudence, Monsieur Raymond! What are -you doing with Agathe?" - -"Oh! I don't see her any more; that's all over, we are parted forever! I -don't propose ever to be caught by one of those little hussies again; -you spend an enormous amount of money, and sometimes you don't make your -expenses. And they don't know how to appreciate a man; they don't know -the difference between a poet and a gudgeon! So long as you have money -in your pocket, and can stuff them from morning till night with bonbons, -sweetmeats, ices, and syrups, and tell them they're adorable, take them -to drive and to the theatre and to the country, and buy them all the -fal-lals they happen to want, oh! bless my soul, then they're satisfied. -You may be as stupid as a goose, as coarse as a street porter, as -conceited as an Italian virtuoso, yet you're none the less delightful in -the eyes of those girls." - -"There's a great deal of truth in what you say, neighbor; but, as a -general rule, it is adulation and flattery that spoil both men and -women; if we didn't kneel at their feet, they wouldn't look down on us -from such a height. Flatterers, courtiers, low-lived sycophants, creep -in everywhere and sometimes corrupt the most happily endowed nature. -Kings, unfortunately, are more encompassed than other men by this -servile swarm, which constantly hums in their ears a concert of -exaggerated and insipid praise; it is when men tremble that they stoop -lower than at any other time. Louis XI had more courtiers than Louis -XII, Charles IX more than Henri IV. Richelieu and Mazarin did not take a -step without being surrounded by a multitude of courtiers; they were -feared, people trembled before them, but humiliated themselves and -scribbled verses in their honor. Sully and Colbert had their admirers, -but they knew how to repel flattery; they were too great to surround -themselves with people whom they despised. If too frequent adulation did -not increase our vanity, if the familiar atmosphere of praise did not -give us too great confidence in our own deserts, how many shortcomings -would those heroes and great captains have escaped, who, under difficult -circumstances, have rejected the counsels of wisdom because they were -accustomed only to the language of flattery, and deemed themselves -invincible because a thousand voices had declared that they were, and -because the man who has been exalted to the rank of a demigod does not -readily decide to take the advice of his creatures! The pernicious -effects of adulation date from a very early period: the serpent seduced -the first woman by flattery. Almost always by the same means have women -since then been seduced. Flattery destroyed Antiochus and -Nebuchadnezzar, Semiramis and Mary Stuart, Cinq-Mars, Monmouth, -Cleopatra, and Marion Delorme; Samson allowed his hair to be cut off -while listening to the compliments of Delilah; Holofernes lost his head -while listening to Judith's soft voice; Charles XII of Sweden, blinded -by his victories, buried his army in the plains of Pultowa; the Marchal -de Villeroi, relying always on luck, insisted on joining battle at -Ramillies. Excessive praise, by blinding us to our faults, causes us to -remain in the path of mediocrity, when nature has given us faculties -calculated to raise us above the vulgar; by tempting us to close our -ears to the harsh counsels of truth, it leads us to mistake self-esteem -for genius, vanity for merit, facility for talent. How many artists, -even when they seek advice, refuse to receive anything but compliments! -But they have been persuaded that all their works are masterpieces, that -no defect can be found in them! And people who have attained that end no -longer take the pains to study; everything that comes from their hands -must necessarily be perfect. But civility demands that we must not -always say what we think. Suppose a poet reads us some of his verses: if -they are bad, you must not tell him so unless you are his friend; for -you do not desire to be looked upon in society as an Alcestis, forever -growling about the vagaries and absurdities of everyone else; that rle -would raise up too many enemies to be endured, except on the stage. In -society, we choose to overlook one another's failings rather than to set -ourselves up as censors; mutual intercourse is pleasanter thus, and we -find more pleasure in living for ourselves than in wasting our time -trying to correct other people. But although courtesy may compel us to -conceal what we think, it does not compel us to say what we do not -think; when I listen to the reading of execrable poetry, I will hold my -peace, but I won't say that it is charming; nay, more, I will try to -summon courage to make some suggestions to the author. I can never make -up my mind to say that a portrait resembles its subject, when I think it -a wretched failure; I cannot tell a person that he sings true, when he -has just been torturing my ears. With nascent talents, above all, we -should be sparing of praise, even while we encourage them; flattery is -responsible for very many such coming to naught, because it arrests the -flight of a genius, which, deeming itself perfect already, no longer -cares to take the trouble to acquire what it lacks. Doubtless a father -is excusable for considering his son a prodigy of beauty, wit, and -talent; paternal love naturally misleads us; but let us at least keep -our conviction to ourselves; let us not force strangers to go into -ecstasies over the story of a mischievous trick, to listen in religious -silence to a fable often directly at variance with common sense, and to -gaze in admiration at a flat nose, turned-up chin, and inflamed eyes, -which can never delight any glance but a father's. If there were fewer -flatterers, how many men, who are simply unendurable now because they -have been spoiled, would be ornaments of society! Let us reserve our -enthusiasm for those poets and artists whose talents exalt them above -all praise. Doubtless the contemporaries of Molire and Voltaire -rendered to those sublime geniuses the homage they deserved; but one -does not display his admiration for such men by insipid compliments and -empty praise: great talents are proud of the applause of people of -taste; they despise the base fawning of which fools are so vain. - -"When Voltaire lived at Ferney, those travellers who, by virtue of their -rank or their merit, could hope to gain access to him, never failed, -even though they were obliged to go far out of their way, to visit the -philosopher's retreat. Everyone was curious to see that extraordinary -man, who astounded the whole universe by his genius. Men of intellect -and of taste thought only of the pleasure that was in store for them; -but the fools--and they too were anxious to converse with Voltaire--gave -all their attention to the posture and expression they proposed to -assume at sight of the philosopher, the better to manifest their -admiration of him. Voltaire was affable with the former; but when a -lady, on catching sight of the great poet, deemed it advisable to shriek -and to swoon, the philosopher shrugged his shoulders and turned on his -heel. - -"Great geniuses are rare; great talents are affable and modest; they who -might have acquired great talents but have failed inhale with delight -the incense people are good enough to lavish on them. How can a young -man whose voice is rather pleasant and nothing more fail to consider -himself a Las or a Martin when people seem to be so infatuated with -him? They urge him, entreat him, implore him to sing; all the women are -in a flutter of excitement before hearing him; they belaud him to their -neighbors in anticipation. 'Delicious!' 'Divine!' 'Charming!' are the -only words that reach the ears of the virtuoso, who condescends at last -to comply with the wishes of the assemblage, and, after all the -inevitable monkey tricks, sings just passably a ballad of which it is -well understood that he will not pronounce the words intelligibly; and -he has hardly finished before the concert of praise begins anew, while -the impartial auditor, who had been led to expect something very -different, asks himself if he can believe his ears. Look you, my dear -neighbor, I confess that I have never been able to persuade myself to -increase the crowd that hovers about these social prodigies, in whom I -find nothing except inordinate self-esteem; or to swell the number of -adorers of a woman of fashion, whose coquetry is carried to such a point -that I blush for her and for those who surround her. Unquestionably, I -am as fond of a pretty woman as any other man; I will be the first to do -homage to her charms; but does that necessitate my exalting her to the -skies at all times and seasons, and overwhelming her with compliments -which, even if they are not extravagant, must none the less be tiresome -to the person to whom they are addressed? Must it be that she cannot -take a step without my praising her dress, her figure, her gait, her -foot, her grace? Can she not smile without my going into ecstasies over -her teeth, her mouth, and the expression of her eyes? Can she not utter -a word without my extolling her wit, her shrewdness, her tact, her -penetration, and the sweet tones of her voice? I may think it all, but I -won't say it; I should be afraid of bringing a blush to her cheek. I -know that I am considered far from gallant; that may injure me with some -ladies, but I have neither the power nor the desire to change. If -everybody did as I do, perhaps we should see less self-conceit and -arrogance in men, less coquetry and caprice in women; they would take -more trouble to be affable and agreeable, and everybody would be the -gainer.--What do you think about it, neighbor?" - -I saw that Raymond was not listening; he was examining the bunches of -orange blossoms that adorned my mantel, and seemed to be puzzled by the -old bouquets which I had collected on my commode, after taking out the -flowers that would not live. - -"You seem to be very fond of orange blossoms?" he said at last. - -"Very." - -"They have a very pleasant odor.--You must have twenty bunches of them -here." - -"I haven't counted them.--But will you do me the favor to tell me what -brings you to my rooms this morning? for I presume that you came for -some purpose." - -"True; I forgot it while looking at these bouquets. I have received an -invitation from Madame de Marsan for a party she is giving at her -country house the day after to-morrow; I suppose you are going, and I -came to suggest that we go together." - -"With pleasure; you know the way and you can be my guide." - -"With the greatest pleasure. By the way, how shall we go?" - -"We will hire a cabriolet, and keep it, so that we can return when we -choose." - -"That's the idea. I thought at first of going in the saddle--I am very -fond of riding; I have a very fine seat." - -"I have no doubt of your grace as a horseman; but we can't go to a party -at Madame de Marsan's in top-boots, so we won't go in the saddle." - -"True; I will undertake to provide a nice cabriolet; I know a liveryman. -At what time shall we start?" - -"At seven o'clock; we shall arrive at eight, which is the proper hour in -the country." - -"That's settled, then. I fancy we shall have some fun; I know the whole -party, so I can tell you who's who." - -"I thought you had been only twice to Madame de Marsan's." - -"Oh! that doesn't make any difference! once is enough for me to know -everybody; I have a certain amount of tact, of penetration--it's all a -matter of habit. In case they should want to give a theatrical -performance, I have an opera that I have just finished; I'll read it to -you on the road." - -"That will give me great pleasure." - -"I must take a look over it. Until Thursday, neighbor!" - -"Until Thursday!" - -Raymond left me, and I went to see Caroline. I found her at the window. -For several days past she had spent much time there, especially when she -was alone. Doubtless it was so that she could watch for my coming. It -seemed to me that she was gayer, more amiable, more fascinating, than -usual; pleasure gleamed in her eyes. - -"Ah! she loves me," I thought; "she loves me truly; she is grateful, she -has a feeling heart; she is coquettish only to please me. Before forming -a lasting attachment, she wanted to find someone worthy of her love; her -heart chose me, and I am sure that she will be true to me. I knew that, -with a little patience, I should find such a woman." - - - - -XIX - -THE TRIP TO THE COUNTRY - - -The day came when I was to go to Madame de Marsan's. I had told Caroline -that she would not see me that evening, and she had seemed greatly -disappointed, although we had had a little dispute the night before -concerning a certain cashmere shawl, which I saw that she ardently -coveted, and which I did not propose to give her. I had given her to -understand, in fact, that she did not need a cashmere shawl to be -charming; that she was more attractive to me in a simple and refined -costume; and we had parted on the most friendly terms. - -The clock struck seven; my toilet was completed. The concierge came to -inform me that the cabriolet had arrived and was waiting in the -courtyard. When it suited Raymond's convenience, we might start; but -what in the deuce was he still doing in his room? I concluded to -investigate. - -I found my neighbor just putting on his breeches. - -"What, Monsieur Raymond! haven't you got any further than that?" - -"Oh! I'll be ready in a moment, I assure you." - -"I'll bet that you won't be ready in half an hour." - -"Pshaw! you'll see how quick I am! While you are waiting, amuse yourself -by looking over my little water colors--my sketches; there are some very -good little things there, as you'll see. If I had more time to myself, -I'd go into oils and exhibit at the Salon, but I am never at liberty." - -"I advise you to stick to water colors; yours are quite remarkable." - -"Aren't they? There's true burlesque, originality for you; the Calot -sort of thing. Do you notice that _Suzanna at the Bath_?" - -"I thought it was a _Temptation of Saint Anthony_." - -"Oh! that's because it isn't finished. And that little -_Hop-o'-my-Thumb_--what do you say to that?" - -"I thought it was _Bluebeard_." - -"That's because he has on his seven-league boots." - -"Come, come, neighbor! You haven't got into your breeches yet!" - -"Ah! they're a delicate part of the costume, you know." - -"But nothing but long trousers are worn now, even at balls." - -"When a fellow has, as I have, a fine leg and a calf fit for a model, he -isn't sorry to show them.--Would you like to read my last verses, on the -Marquise Dsormeaux's favorite dog?" - -"No, thanks, much obliged!" - -"They have made quite a sensation. All the ladies are saying, in a -joking way, that they must have me to write their husbands' epitaphs. -The beginning is rather fine: - - "'O dog of nature, faithful animal!'" - -"I've heard of a man of nature; but I confess that this is the first -time I ever knew the epithet to be applied to a beast. So you think, my -dear Raymond, that animals may be moral perverts, do you?" - -"What's that! why, don't you see it every day? Look at the poor -creatures that have to dance and bow and caper and jump through rings to -the notes of the flageolet! They have received an education. The -marchioness's dog did everything she wanted him to; he snapped at -everybody who went near his mistress, and he jumped on the table during -dinner to eat out of the plates and dishes. That's the natural instinct, -and I maintain that 'dog of nature' is a very happy expression." - -"Come, come, Monsieur Raymond; drop your _dog_ and finish dressing. If -you spend so much time over every part of your costume, we shall not -arrive before midnight." - -"I am at your service. I have got on my boots and breeches; but it seems -to me there's a crease on the left-hand side behind." - -"When you have your coat on, nobody will see it." - -"True; but in walking or dancing, the coat tails spread." - -"Well! what does this crease amount to? do you think that the company is -going to keep its eye on your rump?" - -"I tell you, a crease may make a great difference in a man's looks; -women notice everything." - -"The woman who takes any notice of such things must have her hands full -at a large party!" - -"It sets better now. Ah! my cravat." - -"That will be a long job." - -"Oh, no! I have made a study of that article of dress, and it goes all -alone now. There! that's it. Ought I to turn the ends up or down?" - -"Turn them either way you choose; but try to make up your mind." - -"Well, I'll pull 'em out straight. What do you think of that knot?" - -"Beautiful! you are stunning!" - -"_Stunning_ is too strong a word; but I think that I look rather well; -I've just got three pins to put in." - -"Great God! we shan't get started at eight o'clock!" - -"The devil! this is terribly embarrassing; I ought to have thought about -it sooner." - -"What's the matter? have you another engagement?" - -"I don't know whether I ought to put this turquoise above or below my -emerald." - -"Morbleu! Monsieur Raymond, my patience is exhausted; I am going to -start without you." - -"Here I am! here I am, neighbor! Faith! I have put the turquoise above, -no matter what happens." - -"That's very fortunate." - -"Now, the coat--the hat--the gloves--and I'm all ready, you see." - -"Amazing! Let's be off." - -"All right. Oh! I beg your pardon: I forgot a scented handkerchief." - -We left the room at last. When Raymond had closed his door, he -discovered that he had not put his diamond ring on his little finger, so -he went back to repair that omission. We went downstairs; but on the -second landing, he failed to find his opera in his pocket, and went back -for that. When we arrived in the courtyard, he remembered that he had -not brought his favorite songs; and as he might be asked to sing, I must -wait while he went to fetch them. I registered a vow never to travel -again with Monsieur Raymond. At last, about a quarter past eight, we -entered the cabriolet; then he discovered that he had not his eyeglass; -but I was inexorable: I lashed the horse and we started. It was dark, so -that Raymond could not read me his opera; but to make up to me for the -deprivation, he proposed to tell me the plot. For more than an hour he -prosed away about a Spanish princess and an Arabian prince, her lover, -while I thought of Madame de Marsan, whom I was not at all sorry to see -again, and whom I was surprised that I had neglected so long. When we -reached Saint-Denis it was half-past nine; and I swore at Raymond, whose -dilatoriness and absurd affectations would make us arrive at Madame de -Marsan's unconscionably late. - -"Have we much farther to go?" I asked my neighbor, as we left -Saint-Denis behind. - -"Why, no; about three-fourths of a league only.--I was saying that my -princess, having been rescued from the burning palace, swoons at the end -of the second act.----" - -"You know the way, don't you?" - -"Yes, yes; drive on, I'll show you.--When the curtain rises for the -third act, the princess is in her lover's camp, lying on a cannon.----" - -"Have you been to this country house before?" - -"Once; but that's enough for me; I have such an accurate memory!--The -soldiers are resting on their pikes--or their muskets, for I am not -quite sure whether pikes were in use under King Ferdinand; but it makes -no difference. The prince, having no desire to sleep----" - -"I should say that we were told to go to the left." - -"No, no! straight ahead!--The prince, I say, is on his knees before the -princess, who is still unconscious; and he sings her a superb air, -_adagio_ in _D_ minor, to restore her.--I wrote the music, too. Can't -you see the tableau in your mind's eye?" - -"I see that if you don't drop your _prince_ and _princess_ soon, we -shall be in Montmorency, and that certainly isn't on our road. I'm too -good-natured, to sit here and listen to your nonsense. Here--as you are -so certain we're on the right road, just take the reins and drive." - -"Oh! I ask nothing better; I'll stake my head that we're not two hundred -yards from Madame de Marsan's." - -"But I don't see any light." - -"Because it's too dark a night.--This infernal horse has a mouth like -iron." - -"You worry him too much." - -"Ah! I see something.--Where are we, my man?" - -"Montmorency, monsieur," replied our groom. - -"Well! Monsieur Raymond, you want to see everything; you're a very -clever man!" - -"Don't be angry, my dear Dorsan; we'll take this road to the left; I -remember now that it leads straight to Madame de Marsan's." - -"I think we should do as well to return to Paris; it looks like a -storm." - -"What's the odds? then they'll have the party in the house." - -"The party! Parbleu! we may be there by eleven o'clock!" - -"We shall be there at ten; I must whip this infernal beast." - -"Oh! I am beginning to be resigned; I am going to make the best of it." - -"They are longing for us to come, I am sure!--Go on, you villain, go -on!" - -"Say rather that they have forgotten all about us." - -"Oh! men like us aren't so easily forgotten.--Go on, you wretched nag!" - -"Look out! you're whipping him too hard; he's running away now." - -"Mon Dieu! that's so; he's got the bit in his teeth!" - -"Hold him in! jerk the reins!" - -"I can't hold him, my friend; I am pulling as hard as I can. Mon Dieu! -he's turning into the fields; we are lost!" - -"Oh! don't be frightened; he'll stop.--Get down, boy, and see if you can -stop him." - -Our groom had already alighted, but he did not follow us, which made me -think that he was hurt. Our steed galloped on, across fields and plowed -lands and lanes. I took the reins from my companion, who was no longer -in a condition to see anything, but trembled in every limb and shouted -for help at the top of his voice. To put the finishing touch to our -misfortunes, the storm broke with great violence: the clouds burst, the -rain fell in torrents, and the wind blew with hurricane force in our -faces. Our horse did not stop; I began to apprehend some serious -accident; we were on a very steep hillside, and I expected every moment -to be overturned with the carriage. Luckily, our frantic animal's path -was blocked by a mass of vines; he stopped short, but in struggling to -extricate himself from the labyrinth of branches in which he was -entangled he plunged about with such violence that he finally threw us -out and fell with us. - -"I am dead!" cried Raymond, as he fell. Before making sure of that fact, -I tried to cut my way out of my prison, for the front of the cabriolet -was blocked by vine poles. I succeeded at last in getting out. I was not -hurt, not even a bruise. I thought myself very lucky to escape with -nothing worse than a fright. Since it was written that I should not -attend Madame de Marsan's entertainment, I made the best of it and -decided to endure as philosophically as possible the further -misadventures into which Raymond was sure to lead me. I went to inquire -into my companion's condition. He was groaning pitifully; was he really -hurt? If so, that would make our plight decidedly serious. I walked up -to Raymond, who had fallen half out of the cabriolet, with his face -against the ground. I shook his arm, and succeeded, not without -difficulty, in making him raise his head. The rain had already formed -pools, and the plowed earth had stuck to Raymond's face. He told me in a -feeble voice that he could hardly see. - -"That's nothing; turn your face toward the sky, and I'll answer for it -that the rain will very soon wash off the mud that covers your eyes." - -"You are right, my dear friend; I am well washed now, and I begin to see -more distinctly. Ah! I breathe again!" - -"Are you really hurt?" - -"Wait till I feel myself; I'm sore all over, but I believe that I -haven't any serious wound." - -"That's very fortunate!" - -"Ah! my friend! what a terrible accident!" - -"Whose fault is it?" - -"Look you--I lashed the horse, because you were in a hurry to get -there." - -"I advise you to put your crazy performances on my back!" - -"Here we are in a pretty plight! and the rain coming down in sheets! It -seems as if everything was in a conspiracy against us. Look! I even -smashed my hat when I fell." - -"Parbleu! what do I care for your hat!" - -"Look you, perhaps you care for my head, which is entirely unprotected. -I am wet through, covered with mud, battered and crushed. What a cold I -shall have! And my clothes! It was well worth while to dress! Open-work -stockings; and see, there's my shirt frill on that pole. Mon Dieu! it -wouldn't take much to knock me over!" - -"Come, come, Raymond! damnation! be a man! You're worse than a baby. We -must get out of this somehow." - -"Where's our groom?" - -"I'm afraid the poor devil hurt himself when he jumped down, and I -should be very much at a loss to know where to look for him." - -"If we could raise the carriage!" - -"But one wheel came off when it went over." - -"The devil himself took a hand in the job." - -"I'm afraid the horse has hurt himself on these poles.--This pleasure -party is like to cost us dear, neighbor." - -"Oh! you're very lucky to be able to take it so calmly! For my part, I -am crushed and furious at the same time!" - -"Come with me; let's try to find a house, some place of shelter at -least; but let us notice carefully what direction we take. Are you -coming?" - -"Wait a minute, till I make a cap of my handkerchief, to protect me a -little." - -We left the vineyard. I was obliged to take Raymond by the arm to get -him to move along; he was trembling so that he was afraid of falling at -every step. We walked for some ten minutes, constantly floundering in -holes filled with water, which it was too dark for us to see. I swore -and Raymond whined, anticipating an attack of pneumonia. At last we -discovered a little cottage, and the light that shone through the -windows indicated that the occupants were not in bed; for peasants are -not in the habit of keeping candles lighted while they are asleep. - -"We are saved!" cried Raymond; and he recovered the use of his legs to -run toward the house. But I held him back, fearing that he would -announce our presence in such a way as to prevent our being admitted. I -myself knocked at the door of the cottage. - -Peasants are rarely distrustful; the occupants of the cottage, being -very poor, had no fear of thieves. They opened the door, and I saw a -peasant woman in a large living room, surrounded by half a dozen -children. I explained our mishap, while Raymond, who had already entered -the room, peered into a great kettle to see what the peasants had for -supper, then came back to me and informed me that we shouldn't find much -of anything in that house. - -"What can I do for you, messieurs?" said the peasant, as she watched -Raymond prying into every corner. - -"Are we far from Montmorency?" - -"No; a fourth of a league at most." - -"We don't know the roads about here; be good enough to let us have your -biggest boy for a guide; we will pay you." - -As I spoke, I gave the woman three francs, which instantly disposed her -to make herself useful to us. - -"That's easy enough," she said; "Julien, go with these gentlemen.--If -you're tired, I can let you have some donkeys." - -"We shall be very glad of them, for, first of all, we must find our -groom, who must be somewhere in the neighborhood; and then we will try -to rescue our horse, for he ought not to pass the night in the fields." - -"Come, Julien, get the donkeys out of the stable.--I ought to tell you -that there's no saddles for 'em." - -"No matter; they will be very useful to us all the same." - -The donkeys were produced, and I paid on the spot for their hire; I took -a third one, for our groom, whom I hoped to find. Raymond hesitated a -long while before mounting his beast; he wanted saddle, stirrups, and -pads; he claimed to be able to ride like Franconi, but he could not sit -on a donkey. Tired to death by all his lamentations, I started off with -the young peasant, who rode the third donkey, and set out to find the -groom. Raymond, seeing that I had ceased to listen to him, decided to -follow me, clinging with one hand to the tail and with the other to the -mane of his steed. He urged the poor beast along in my wake, and we were -in the fields once more. - -I let my donkey take his own course. I called the groom at the top of my -lungs, and my companions did the same. At last someone answered us; we -rode in the direction of the voice and found our young man lying on the -ground, under a tree. The poor devil had sprained his foot and could not -walk. I put him on the peasant's donkey. It only remained for us to -unharness our horse, whom we found on the ground beside the cabriolet. -The rain had allayed the poor beast's ardor, and he finally allowed us -to raise him to his feet. Our guide assured us that he was uninjured; he -mounted him, took his place at our head, and the cavalcade set out for -Montmorency. - -All these details had taken time. It was after half-past eleven when we -left our little carriage, which I commended to the young peasant's care; -he promised to fetch a blacksmith to mend it at daybreak. We could have -gone much faster but for Raymond; he compelled us to stop every few -yards; his donkey refused to go, or else insisted on turning into -another road; and he uttered heartrending cries when we did not wait for -him. Luckily, the rain had ceased and it was a little less dark, so -that we could see where we were going. - -At midnight we caught sight of the first houses in Montmorency. Raymond -gave a joyful cry, whereat his donkey was frightened and jumped, -throwing its rider off into a muddy path, where he lost his shoes. As we -were a little ahead, Raymond was obliged to pick himself up unassisted; -the fear of losing us lent him strength, but his steed did not wait for -him, and he ended his journey running after the beast, which he caught -on the square just as we were dismounting. All the people of the inn had -gone to bed, but we knocked until they answered. They were surprised -that travellers should arrive so late; they would be far more surprised, -I thought, when they saw the condition we were in, especially Raymond, -whose last fall had plastered him with mud from head to foot. They -admitted us, however, but, as I had foreseen, they were taken aback by -our appearance. But I soon succeeded in telling my story. The landlord, -seeing that he had to do with people of standing, apologized to us and -hastened to show us to our rooms. They gave a room to our groom; the -horse was taken to the stable, and the peasant went home with his -donkeys. - -I ordered a brisk fire made, to dry our clothes, and requested the host -to serve whatever he had ready, for our misadventures had not taken away -our appetites. We were served with a chicken, ham, salad, and fruit. -While I took my place at the table, Raymond went into his bedroom, where -he ordered another fire lighted, and asked the girl who waited on us to -come to rub his back, so that he might avoid an illness. She was a -robust peasant of some twenty years, not of the type to be afraid of a -man. Still, Raymond's proposition struck her as rather peculiar; she -looked at him with a smile and seemed to hesitate. - -"Go with him," I said to her, "and don't be afraid; monsieur is thinking -of nothing but his health, and I'll answer for his behavior." - -While my companion was being rubbed, I did justice to the supper, and -dried myself thoroughly in front of the fire. The bedroom door was not -closed, and I could hear Raymond urging the servant on and complimenting -her on her skill. The buxom damsel must have been tired, she had rubbed -him so long, but Raymond seemed to enjoy it. Soon I concluded that the -fire and the servant's ministrations had entirely restored my friend's -animation, for he began to be enterprising, and I heard the girl exclaim -that she would not stand it. And I had answered for his behavior! How -can you trust anyone? - -But the noise continued in the adjoining room; and at last the girl fled -into the room where I was, roaring with laughter, and pursued by -Monsieur Raymond in shirt and drawers and a pair of the innkeeper's -slippers. - -"Won't you keep quiet the rest of the night, Monsieur Raymond? Am I to -have no peace with you?" said I. - -"Oh! what eyes, my friend! Ah! the hussy, if she would!" - -"Yes, but the trouble is I won't, Monsieur Insolent!" - -"Come, Raymond, let the girl go to bed; it's late and this is no time to -rouse the whole inn. I've no desire to get into any more trouble for -your lovely eyes.--Leave us, my girl! we don't want anything more." - -"I say, my dear, where's your room; do tell me where it is?" - -"What business is it of yours?" - -"Tell me, all the same, you sly minx, and you won't be sorry." - -"Well, I sleep upstairs, at the end of the hall." - -"Good; I understand." - -The servant left us, and Raymond sat down at the table. - -"I trust," said I, "that you don't propose to run after that girl? She's -fooling you." - -"No, no! I was joking, that's all. She's as solid as a rock!" - -"She ought to know whether you are or not, for she rubbed you long -enough." - -"Yes, indeed; the hussy knows!" - -"It doesn't seem to have disposed her in your favor." - -"Bah! didn't she tell me where her room was?" - -"Don't you trust her." - -"Oh! I've no desire to go after her, as you can imagine; but, one thing -is sure, and that is, that if I chose, I should have everything my own -way." - -"I don't believe it." - -"Do you want to bet?" - -"No; because you would indulge in some pleasant little performance which -would make my night as agreeable as my evening has been; and I confess -that I've had enough of that sort of thing for to-day. Good-night, -Monsieur Raymond! I am going to bed, and I advise you to do the same." - -"Yes, neighbor, yes, I'll do the same. Sleep well. Your servant!" - -Raymond took his candle with an offended air and went to his room, -locking the door behind him. I laughed at the crazy fellow's pretensions -and folly, and got into bed, where I soon fell asleep. A noise, the -nature of which I could not determine, soon woke me. I listened, and -called to Raymond, to find out if he were ill; he did not answer, and I -heard nothing more, so I went to sleep again. I did not wake until eight -o'clock; the sun was shining brightly into my room, indicating a lovely -day. As I was at Montmorency, although against my will, I would at all -events enjoy the delightful walks in the neighborhood and have a taste -of the pleasures of the country before returning to Paris. Our cabriolet -could not be repaired as yet, and we should have to wait for it. - -While I was dressing, I called to Raymond and asked him if he wanted to -take a walk before breakfast. He did not answer; apparently he was still -asleep. But his door was ajar, and I seemed to remember that he had -closed it the night before. I entered, and called him again: - -"Come, come, lazybones! it's late; wake up!" - -No answer. I looked at his bed: he was not there. So he had risen -earlier than I and gone out before me. I was turning away, when I saw -Raymond's coat, waistcoat, and breeches spread out on chairs, where he -had put them to dry. What! he had gone out without coat or breeches? -that was very strange! Thereupon, I remembered my neighbor's schemes, -his dallying with the servant, and the wager he proposed when he was -eating his supper. My uncertainty was at an end: Monsieur Raymond had -set out to prove to me that he was not to be resisted; he had gone to -lie with the stout damsel who had wiped him and rubbed him so -thoroughly. But inn servants do not stay in bed until eight o'clock; the -girl must have been up long before. Why had Raymond not returned to his -bed? Did he want the whole household to know where he had passed the -night? I did not see the point of that very clearly; however, I -determined to ascertain the fact. I called and rang; the same servant -appeared; her aspect was unchanged; she had a smile on her lips, her big -eyes were wide open, and her manner alert and determined. She had -anything but a bashful air; I supposed that she was probably accustomed -to nocturnal visits. I looked at her and laughed. - -"Did you call, monsieur?" - -"Yes, my child." - -"What can I do for you?" - -"How is our groom?" - -"Oh! he's all right, monsieur; they've put a compress on his foot." - -"And the carriage?" - -"That don't amount to much--only a matter of a couple of hours. But the -man who owns the vineyard where you upset followed after the blacksmith; -he wants his pay for the damage you did on his land; he says you pulled -up more'n a dozen vines." - -"Good! we have got to pay him because we nearly killed ourselves on his -poles; let him have a hundred sous.--By the way, my lass, tell me now -what you've done with my friend?" - -"With your friend?" - -"Yes; the gentleman who came with me." - -"Oh! the man that lost his shoes, and that I had to rub so long!" - -"Exactly." - -"Pardi! I haven't done anything with him, and I wouldn't have anything -to do with him, although he was after me like a thirsty dog! Mon Dieu! -what a fellow!" - -"It's no use to pretend, my dear; he slept with you; I don't see any -harm in that, but where in the devil is he now?" - -"What's that you say? he slept with me? Bless my soul! that's a good -one! It's a lie, d'ye hear! I don't sleep with anybody that don't suit -me, and your big baby didn't suit me at all. Has he got the face to say -that? Ah! I'd tear his eyes out if I heard him!" - -"It seems to me that when you tell him where your room is, you shouldn't -make so much noise because of what I've said to you." - -"My room! I told him where my room was! Good Lord! do you mean to tell -me---- Ha! ha! ha!" - -The servant, who had turned purple with wrath, suddenly began to roar -with laughter. I waited a long while for that outburst of merriment to -cease; the buxom creature held her sides, and was obliged to sit down -before she could speak. She recovered herself at last. - -"Let me tell you, monsieur, that the door I mentioned to your friend -ain't the door to my room at all, but it leads into a big room like a -loft, where there's a lot of sun and it's always dry as a bone; that's -why the master picked it out to keep the fruits he's going to preserve, -such as pears and apples and grapes; and then provisions, such as bacon -and ham and sausages!" - -"Whatever you choose; but I suppose he keeps the room locked?" - -"Yes, monsieur; but, for all that, he swore that things kept being -stolen; and for the last few days, I don't know whether it's to catch -the thieves or not, but I've noticed that the door was only latched." - -"And that is where you sent my companion?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"I don't see what he can have been doing there all night. But he must be -somewhere. Come, my girl, take me to your storeroom." - -"I'll go and get the master, because we ain't allowed to go there." - -"I don't care for the prohibition; I must find my companion, who can't -have gone to visit the Hermitage or to walk in the valley, in his shirt -and drawers." - -"That's so; it ain't the custom." - -Paying no heed to the servant, who went to tell her master, I left my -room, ascended the stairs, and walked through a long corridor, at the -end of which I saw a door. It was at some distance from the inhabited -portion of the house; and I could understand that Raymond might easily -have called without making himself heard. But why had he remained there? -That is what I was determined to know. I pushed the door, which was not -locked, and saw Raymond with one leg in a trap, sitting upon a pile of -hams, where he had fallen asleep. - -My arrival made him open his eyes. He held out his arms with an -expression which I cannot describe. - -"Ah! my friend! my savior! set me free, I implore you!" - -"What in the devil are you doing here?" - -"I am caught like a rat in a trap, as you see; I can't budge. I've been -here since one o'clock this morning; I shouted and called, but no one -came, and I had to make the best of it. When I found that no one heard -me, I sat down on the first thing I could find, and at last I fell -asleep; but I ache in every limb. I shan't forget Montmorency!" - -I was sorely tempted to laugh, but Raymond's long face aroused my pity. -I was trying to release him from the trap, but to no purpose, when our -host arrived with the servant. At sight of the latter, my poor companion -made a horrible face, while the girl laughed till she cried. - -"Aha! morgu! so I have caught my thief!" said the landlord, as soon as -he caught sight of Raymond; but when he came nearer, he was greatly -surprised to recognize the guest to whom he had lent his slippers. -Raymond told a not improbable story of a trifling indisposition which -surprised him in the night and compelled him to seek a certain place -which he thought was upstairs; and in that way he had fallen into the -trap set in the storeroom. - -Our host apologized profusely. He alone knew the secret of the trap, and -he hastened to release my companion. Raymond went to his room to dress; -but he was in a savage humor and did not care to inspect the outskirts -of Montmorency. He was afraid that the night he had passed on the hams, -in his shirt, would give him the rheumatism, and he longed for the -moment when we might start for Paris. I might have joked my neighbor on -the hard luck that pursued him in his _bonnes fortunes_, but I was -considerate and held my peace. I left him to rub his own shoulders, -legs, and posteriors; and, after breakfasting, sallied forth alone to -visit those delightful spots which Grtry and Jean-Jacques still adorn; -for men of genius never wholly die. I will not describe scenes with -which the reader is as familiar as myself; I should teach him nothing, -and if I should make any blunders they would be detected; but if some -day I visit a distant and desert country, if I see some Gothic chteau -or some chapel tumbling to decay, I promise you a glowing description of -it; for then I shall be able to say whatever comes into my head, without -fear of contradiction. - -Let us return to Raymond. He waited impatiently for my return from my -walk. The cabriolet was mended, the horse harnessed, and we were at -liberty to start. I helped in my two invalids, for Raymond was little -better off than the groom; he could hardly move. I took my seat between -them, and, after paying the innkeeper's account, which included the -slippers in which my companion returned to Paris, we started for the -capital, where we arrived without accident, because I did not allow -Monsieur Raymond to take the reins. On reaching our abode, we dismissed -the cabriolet and gave the groom something by way of compensation for -his sprained foot, which would keep him in the house a few days. I paid -everything and presented to my companion a statement of our expenses -overnight, as follows: - - _F. C._ - - For the cabriolet, which we kept one day longer than - we intended 30 00 - - For the peasant woman and her son, who acted as our - guide and helped us to pick up our horse 6 00 - - For the hire of three donkeys at midnight 9 00 - - For repairing the cabriolet 12 00 - - For injury to vines 5 00 - - For accommodation at the inn, lodging, supper, and - breakfast 28 00 - - For slippers for Monsieur Raymond 2 50 - - For the servant who rubbed Monsieur Raymond 3 00 - - For fire on two hearths, a most unusual thing in inns 2 00 - - For the groom, who sprained his foot trying to stop our - horse 20 00 - ______ - - Total 117 50 - -On examining the items of expense of our pleasure party, to which he -might have added his costume, which was almost completely ruined, from -the hat to the shoes, Raymond heaved a profound sigh, and he was rather -long about taking from his purse the fifty-eight francs seventy-five -centimes that he owed me. Our account being adjusted at last, we betook -ourselves to our respective apartments. - - - - -XX - -SUSPICIONS OF THE MIND.--APPREHENSIONS OF THE HEART - - -Thanks to my neighbor, I had not availed myself of Madame de Marsan's -courteous invitation; but I proposed to go soon to make my excuses to -her, and I would be careful to go alone; it seemed to me that that would -be preferable in every way. - -Doubtless Caroline was awaiting me impatiently; I must make haste to put -an end to her anxiety. I had promised to return during the night; but -unforeseen events---- It was after two o'clock in the afternoon, when I -hastened to Rue Caumartin. - -This time she was not at her window; but could I expect her to give -herself a twist in the neck in order to see me a moment sooner? No! I -was too sensible to demand that. I went upstairs and rang--no answer. -She had gone out! She had probably got tired of waiting for me, and had -gone out for a walk, perhaps to make some new purchases. There was -nothing for me to do but to go away and return; but I concluded to ring -once more. I did so, to no purpose. I went downstairs in an ill humor, -because I was annoyed; nothing annoys one more than a postponed -pleasure. I had no right to be angry because she had gone out; still, it -seemed to me that she might have waited for me. I walked away, -scratching my ear; indeed, I believe that I scratched my head. Was it a -presentiment? Alas! I had never yet found a faithful woman! But I had -vowed not to distress myself beforehand; that never does any good. I -determined to do my best not to distress myself afterward either! I -should be more certain of being happy. - -As I turned into the boulevard, I saw her. What a costume for a morning -walk! She caught sight of me and seemed embarrassed. She came toward me, -however. We both smiled, but I believe that neither of us felt any -inclination that way; it is so easy to distinguish a forced smile! - -"Ah! here you are at last!" - -"Yes: does that surprise you?" - -"I didn't expect you so late." - -"I quite believe that you didn't expect me." - -"Have you just come from my rooms?" - -"Yes; and you?" - -"I have been for a little walk." - -"What a dress!" - -"I don't see anything uncommon about it." - -"Not in comparison with the one you wore on Rue des Rosiers?" - -"You always have something unkind to say!" - -"I don't see what there is unkind in what I said." - -"I suppose you'd have me go out in cap and apron!" - -"They wouldn't be unbecoming to you." - -"But I have no desire to wear them." - -"Oh! I believe you!" - -"To hear you, anyone would think that before you knew me I was a stupid, -awkward country girl!" - -"I am well aware that you were not an innocent maid." - -"Are we going to stay here on the boulevard all night? I am going home; -are you coming with me?" - -I hesitated; but I went with her. When we were in her apartment, -Caroline joked me about my severe air. In truth, what right had I to -reproach her? I was far from amiable sometimes, I knew; and a man who -scolds and grumbles is seldom loved. True; but a man who is loved never -appears to scold; he is always right. I kissed Caroline, and peace was -made. We dined together, and I took her to the theatre; but although I -did my best to amuse her, she did not seem to enjoy herself very much. -She appeared to be distraught, preoccupied; I was almost tempted to find -fault with her, but I restrained myself, for she would have said that I -was always complaining! But if she had been as she used to be, I should -have had no cause to complain. Ah! I say again, when a man ceases to be -lovable, it means that he is no longer loved. - -It was near midnight when I went home. A secret hope led me to grasp the -knob hurriedly. No bouquet! and yet it was the day! Could Nicette have -forgotten me? That would have caused me a pang, a very sharp pang. But -what childish nonsense! How could I expect her to bring me flowers all -the year round, when I did not condescend to go to her to bid her -good-morning? In the depths of my heart, however, I was not indifferent -to those tokens of her remembrance of me; I was touched by them, much -more, perhaps, than I supposed; I realized it from the grief that I felt -at her neglect; I had become so accustomed to that homage! It seemed to -me that it was my due. Why should I conceal it? I flattered myself that -Nicette loved me; I believed her to be capable of constancy; and while I -did not choose to abuse her love, I was not at all sorry to inspire it. -I determined to investigate her conduct; I determined to see her, to -speak to her. I would rise the next morning at six and prowl about the -little flower girl's booth. What strange mortals we are! For a whole -month I had neglected Nicette; and because I thought that she had -forgotten me, I was consumed by a longing to see her again, to know what -she was doing and what her sentiments were! Was it love, self-esteem, -jealousy, vanity, or simple curiosity on my part? Call it what you -please, it was as I have described it. - -As for Caroline, I determined not to torment myself any more about her; -she was either faithful or unfaithful; in the first case, I was wrong to -suspect her; in the second, she deserved neither my love nor my regrets. -That is a very fine dilemma which I propose to all jealous lovers, -present and future. But they will reply that when a man is able to talk -sensibly he is not in love. To that I have nothing to say, for I am -inclined to think that it is true. - -I was up at six o'clock. At that hour I was quite certain not to meet -any acquaintances before whom I should blush to be seen speaking to a -street peddler. I soon reached the place where Nicette was accustomed to -display her wares. But I saw nothing; could it be that I was too early? -had she moved to another quarter? I accosted a messenger whose stand was -a few feet away; those fellows know everything. - -"My friend, wasn't there a flower girl who used to stand in front of -this house?" - -"Yes, monsieur; she was here up to a week ago." - -"And she no longer stands here?" - -"Oh! she isn't very far off. Thirty yards or so farther along you'll see -a little shop; that's where she is now." - -"A shop, do you say?" - -"Yes, monsieur; it isn't very big, but it's well arranged, all the -same." - -I turned to walk away--but perhaps that man could tell me something. -Nicette had a shop; what was I to conclude from that? I trembled to -think! Had some other man been more fortunate than I? had she listened -to some other man? and did another possess that treasure which I might -have obtained and which it had cost me such a struggle to respect? - -I returned to the messenger, put some money in his hand, and began to -question him. - -"Do you know this flower girl?" - -"Yes, monsieur, I know her--not very well, though, for she's a bit -proud; she don't talk much to anybody but her customers; and even then -you mustn't say too much, or she'll send you about your business. Oh! -she's a good girl, I tell you! She's virtuous, and the virtuous ones are -always noticed." - -The man's praise of Nicette caused me the keenest delight; I should have -been sorry to learn that I could no longer esteem her. - -"You say that she's virtuous, eh?" - -"Yes, monsieur; we messengers know what's what; and then, I see -everything that goes on. It isn't that Mamzelle Nicette lacks lovers. -Oh! pardi! the whole quarter, if she chose! she's so pretty! and she has -a fine lot of customers. It's hardly six weeks since she set up on this -street; but the young men soon spied her, and there's a whole mob of -dandies that come to buy flowers, just to make love to her, you -understand. But Mamzelle Nicette don't sell anything but bouquets. I -must do her that justice. She won't listen to the swells any more than -the footmen; and when some sly fellow orders flowers of her, to have her -bring them to him, he gets caught, for she just sends them by the -wigmaker's little girl." - -I walked away, overjoyed by all that I had learned; in two bounds I was -in front of Nicette's shop. She was already arranging her jars of -flowers on boards placed outside, in the street. When she saw me, she -gave a cry of surprise, dropped the carnations she had in her hand, -blushed scarlet, and could hardly stammer: - -"What! is it you, monsieur?" - -I smiled at her astonishment and entered her shop, where I seated myself -on a stool and looked at her.--How pretty she was! Joy made her even -prettier, and glistened in the look with which she met mine. - -"Is it really you, Monsieur Dorsan, you, in my shop? Ah! I didn't expect -such a pleasure! I had stopped hoping for it!" - -"Why so, Nicette?" - -"Why--it is so long!" - -"That is true. But I have things to do which make it impossible----" - -"Oh! I believe you, monsieur. Besides, aren't you your own master? and -how can you give a thought to a girl who sells flowers?" - -There was something so touching in the way she spoke, that I was deeply -moved. How could I ever have forgotten such charm, such innocence, such -susceptibility? I could not understand it. - -She was still standing in front of me; I took her hand, and I believe -that I was actually on the point of drawing her down on my knees. She -made no resistance; she glanced anxiously about, but had not the -strength to go away from me. What imprudence! what was I doing? We were -in full sight of passers-by, and someone might come in at any minute. -She had nothing but her reputation, and I was about to besmirch it! -Poor child! she would sacrifice it to me, in her dread of displeasing -me. - -I dropped her hand and moved away from her, looking toward the street. -She understood me, and thanked me with her eyes. - -"So you were able to hire a shop, Nicette?" - -"Yes, monsieur; I've made a lot since I've been in this quarter. I am -economical and spend very little; I am sure that I can get along all -right. I don't think I did wrong, did I?" - -"No; I know that you are behaving as well as possible." - -"You know it?" - -"I have never doubted it. Your bouquets have shown me, moreover, what a -grateful heart you have." - -"Oh! can I ever forget what you did for me?" - -"Haven't you made any acquaintances on this street?" - -"No, monsieur; I don't want to make any." - -"Aren't you bored, being all alone?" - -"How can I be bored? I always have something to think about?" - -"What do you do in the evening?" - -"I read, and I am learning to write." - -"Do you know how to write?" - -"A little; before long I shall know how to write well, I hope. There's -an old gentleman who gives me lessons sometimes." - -"What need is there of your knowing any more than you do?" - -"That's true, monsieur; if you don't want me to, I won't learn any -more." - -"Oh! I don't say that. Study, Nicette, since you enjoy it; you weren't -born to sell flowers. But take my advice, and don't try to rise above -the condition in which fate has placed you; it rarely succeeds." - -"Oh! I'm not trying to do anything of the sort, monsieur; I'd just like -to be not quite so stupid as I used to be." - -"My dear girl, you may be ignorant, but you can't be stupid; you will -always be charming; your natural wit does not need the resources of -education to attract esteem, any more than your charms need the help of -art to win admiration. Ah! Nicette, be always as you are now, as I first -saw you! Do not change!" - -She listened to me in silence; her sweet glance approved all that I -said; we understood each other so well! But impatient customers were -already beginning to look at her flowers; I felt that I must go. I said -adieu, but I continued to stand in front of her. It was impossible to -take a kiss, I realized that; she divined my thought, and we both -sighed. To part so coldly! Ah! if we had been in my room! I was certain -that I had but to say the word, and she would come; but I refrained from -saying it, for she would have been lost. I pressed her hand and fled. I -felt that I must fly from her, in order not to adore her. - - - - -XXI - -CONFIDENCE - - -As a fortunate change in our destiny reconciles us to life, as a lucky -throw of the dice brings us nearer to wealth, as a noble deed reconciles -the misanthrope to mankind, as the acceptance of a play calms the wrath -of an author, as a bottle of old wine makes the drunkard forget his -pledges, as a sunbeam causes the traces of the storm to disappear, so -the sight of a pretty woman makes us forget our virtuous resolutions, -her love banishes from our hearts the memory of our last mistress's -perfidy, and her virtues reconcile us to women in general, whom we take -a vow to shun whenever we are deceived, and whom we do not shun, because -it is not in nature to do it. - -Thus the sight of Nicette always led me to esteem her more highly. I -reproached myself for sometimes speaking ill of a sex which contains -models of sensibility, refinement, and sweetness, and which often -redeems a weakness by a hundred estimable qualities. The result in this -instance was that I thought I had done wrong to suspect Caroline, that -nothing in her conduct ought to arouse my jealousy, and that, by -reproaches and unfounded distrust, we often embitter a heart that we -might have made ours forever. - -I even went so far as to say to myself that it was my own fault that I -had been deceived so often, and that I had invariably done the opposite -of what one should do to retain a woman's love. We go very far with the -syllogisms that we propound to ourselves. At the rate at which I was -going on, I might have ended by satisfying myself that the infidelities -of our female friends are simply the consequences of our behavior toward -them, when I happened to pass Tortoni's just as Raymond went in with a -man of some sixty years, with an awkward figure, and an inane, -disagreeable face, who was obliged to use a cane to support his left -leg, but whose costume denoted wealth and his manner a remnant of -dandyism. - -I was not at all anxious to sit down with them, despite Raymond's -entreaties; he exclaimed at once that we must breakfast together. I -pretended not to hear him, and took my place in a corner, at some -distance from Raymond, of whom I had fought shy since our trip to -Montmorency. But, as I drank my chocolate, I noticed that the -conversation of the two gentlemen was very animated. I was convinced -that the gouty old fellow was telling his friend about some amorous -affairs, which he took pains to vaunt in the highest terms so that he -might still pose as a gay young rake. Would he not do better, I thought, -to attend to his infirmities? He rose at last, and I supposed that -Raymond would go with him; but, no: he remained behind and joined me at -my table. - -"Good-morning, my friend! Well! have we recovered from the fatigue of -travel?" - -"You are the one to answer that question. Thank heaven! I didn't sleep -on a pile of hams, with my leg caught like a plump lark!" - -"Ah! the sly hussy! I admit that I looked a good deal like a sparrow; -but I don't feel it now, I rubbed myself so hard yesterday! I used up -two bottles of cosmetic for the skin, and three phials of Ceylon oil; -so that I have recovered all my elasticity this morning. Tell me, do -you know that man who was with me just now?" - -"No." - -"That was Monsieur de Grandmaison." - -"I never heard of him." - -"He's a very rich man, enormously rich!" - -"He's enormously ugly!" - -"He's an ex-financier, contractor, promoter." - -"Yes, I understand." - -"He gives delightful balls." - -"Not for himself, surely." - -"Oh! he's still quite a rake." - -"He doesn't look it." - -"Because he drags his leg a little; but that doesn't prevent his making -conquests." - -"From buying them, you mean." - -"That's what I mean; but it all comes to the same thing. Between -ourselves, I admit that he didn't invent gunpowder, and that his -education is confined to the rules of subtraction and multiplication, -which he understands perfectly. But still, for all that, he has the -prettiest women in Paris." - -"That doesn't speak well for the prettiest women in Paris." - -"He was telling me just now of a new intrigue he is on the point of -consummating. Ha! ha! it's most amusing! She's a ravishing young beauty, -and he is going to steal her from a young man." - -"Some kept woman." - -"It seems that the little one is worth her price, and that she hangs -back; and then, too, the young man, who is jealous no doubt, keeps her -very close. For all that, they've seen each other--at the window, in the -first place; then, letters and propositions. Grandmaison, who knows how -to manage such affairs, talked about cashmere shawls and diamonds! The -little one's a coquette, and it seems that her young lover keeps her on -a bourgeois footing. The poor fellow will soon be plundered." - -I had a feeling of uneasiness, which as yet I dared not analyze; -Raymond's story, to which I had listened mechanically, interested me -deeply at last; the words _window_, _cashmere shawls_, and _diamonds_ -aroused vague suspicions in my mind, which I blushed to harbor when I -recalled Monsieur de Grandmaison's age and appearance. My self-esteem -refused to admit that such a rival could be preferred to me; but a -secret voice told me that self-esteem often deceives us. I determined to -ascertain the truth, and I proceeded to ask Raymond certain questions, -which, I was sure, would prove to me that I was wrong to torment myself. - -"Where does this Monsieur de Grandmaison live?" - -"Rue Caumartin, in a magnificent house that he owns; it's just at the -end of the street, near the boulevard." - -I felt a shudder run through my whole body, my gorge rose, a weight -descended on my breast--all in a second, and as the result of a mere -word. I continued my questions, however, affecting the utmost -tranquillity. - -"And this young beauty?" - -"Lives just opposite him, in a small house where there's no concierge, -on the second floor front. Grandmaison saw her first at her window; it's -a broad street, but he has an excellent glass that he had made to watch -the ballets at the Opra. It's a little telescope; it brings everything -right under your eyes, and you can imagine how pleasant it is, while a -dancer is making a pirouette, to fasten it on----" - -"Well, go on: this young woman?" - -"As I was saying, he assured himself with his glass that she was young, -pretty, well built, and not faded. Oh! his glass is invaluable for -that!" - -"But the lover?" - -"The lover doesn't live with her. He goes very often to see her; but he -doesn't sit at the window, naturally; so that Grandmaison has only -caught a glimpse of him, for she is careful to leave the window as soon -as the young man arrives." - -"Well?" - -"Well, everything is going as smoothly as possible. Grandmaison took the -little one to a closed box at the Opra night before last, the lover -being in the country." - -At that point, I could no longer control myself, and, entirely -unconscious of what I was doing, I struck the table between my neighbor -and myself such a violent blow that the cup of chocolate bounded up into -his face as he leaned over the table to speak to me. The bulk of the -liquid deluged Raymond's waistcoat and shirt frill. He jumped back, -startled by the gesture that had escaped me. Ashamed of having allowed -my trouble, my wrath, my frenzy, to appear, I tried to recover myself; I -composed my features and apologized. Raymond, uncertain whether he could -safely approach me, asked for a glass of water to clean his face. - -"Pardon! a thousand pardons! my dear Raymond, I don't know what caught -me then.--You were saying that, the day before yesterday----" - -"You gave me a terrible fright. Are you subject to nervous spasms?" - -"No, no! it was mere absent-mindedness.--You were saying----" - -"The devil! you ought to look after that. Thanks to you, I have got to -go home to change my waistcoat and shirt." - -"Oh! that's nothing.--So, the night before last he took the young woman -to a closed box at the Opra, eh?" - -"Yes, yes.--Is there any more on my face?" - -"None at all; you look splendid. Go on." - -This compliment restored Raymond's good humor; he tucked his frill out -of sight and resumed the conversation. - -"Yes, they were there, in a box----" - -"So, it's all over, is it?" - -"Oh, no! not yet. The beauty hangs back, you understand, and Grandmaison -isn't the man to push matters so fast--with his bad leg, he needs all -the conveniences. Oh! if it had been one of us two, that would have been -the end; we are sad rascals, you know!" - -"But since then?" - -"He saw the little one again yesterday morning, outside the walls. He -promised to give her a magnificent cashmere shawl, genuine Turkish, -to-night, if she'd take supper with him at his house; moreover, a -complete apartment, a lady's-maid, a carriage at her service, and a -hundred louis a month, to say nothing of presents, if she would agree to -stay." - -"Well?" - -"She has accepted." - -"She has accepted!" - -I sprang to my feet so suddenly that Raymond recoiled and looked at me -uneasily. - -"Did it take you again, neighbor?" - -"No, nothing's the matter. Let us go out and get a breath of air." - -And I took Raymond's arm and led him away. He followed me, making a wry -face. Doubtless I pinched his arm without noticing it, for he begged me -to let it alone; but I did not hear him. - -"My dear Dorsan, your muscles keep contracting; let my arm alone, -please." - -"Oh! these women! these women! But why do I feel this weight at my -heart? for I do not love her." - -"Let me go, my friend, I entreat you!" - -"Oh! it's because it is cruel to be constantly deceived in this way! to -be fooled again and again! and for whom, I ask you?" - -"I don't know what you ask me, but let me go; you hurt me; I shall be -obliged to call for help." - -"But is it really she, after all? I must confound her.--Raymond!" - -I turned toward my companion, and not until then did I notice his -piteous expression and terrified eyes; I released his arm, and, becoming -a little calmer, asked him what the matter was. - -"The matter! Faith! you seem to have attacks of brain fever; you squeeze -my arm so that you make me yell, and you utter exclamations that I don't -understand." - -"I was thinking about something that I'll tell you of later. But let us -go back to this intrigue of your friend: it interests me very much. -Monsieur de Grandmaison sups to-night with his new conquest?" - -"Yes, to-night." - -"I am very curious to see this woman who you say is so pretty." - -"Faith! so am I, for I don't know her any more than you do, and I am -looking forward to seeing her." - -"What! you are to see her?" - -"Certainly; I am invited to the supper, with five or six agreeable -rous, intimate friends of Grandmaison. As he is naturally a little -stupid, when he has told a woman that he'd like--you understand--he -can't think of anything else to say to her to amuse her; and as he -desires to be sparing of his pleasures, because he's not so robust as -you and I are, he reserves his ardor for the night; he always invites a -number of friends to supper, in order to put his charmer in the right -mood." - -"A most excellent device, and very pleasant for his guests!" - -"You must understand that we always get something out of it. These -women, when they have a large stock of susceptibility, are never -satisfied with Grandmaison, who's an invalid!" - -"I understand: you are his friend and deputy." - -"I am whatever anyone wants me to be! Oh! we have great sport at these -little supper parties! we laugh like lunatics! The food is delicious and -the wines exquisite! no constraint, no ceremony; we joke and sing and -drink; and the jests, the puns, the remarks with a double meaning, the -spicy anecdotes, the smutty couplets! There's a rolling fire of them; -everybody talks at once, and nobody hears what the others say; it's -delicious!" - -"You make me regret that I am not one of you." - -"Would you like to be, my dear fellow? Parbleu! if you would, I will -venture to introduce you." - -"Really! could you do it?" - -"I can do anything I choose! you know very well that everything succeeds -that I undertake." - -"I had forgotten that. But this Monsieur de Grandmaison doesn't know -me." - -"What difference does that make? I know you, and that's enough! -Introduced by Raymond, you will be welcome." - -"Do you think that I might venture?" - -"Why, of course! So long as a man is hilarious and tells amusing -stories, he's sure of being well received at Grandmaison's; that's why -he's so fond of me." - -"Oh! if it's only a matter of providing amusement, I promise you some -for this evening." - -"You're our man; it's agreed, then. Meet me at the Caf Anglais at ten -o'clock; that's the hour of meeting." - -"I will be there, I give you my word." - -"But if you will accept my advice, you'll take a little orange-flower -water to calm your nerves." - -"Never fear! I shan't have another attack." - -"Good-bye, then, until ten o'clock to-night!" - -Raymond left me, and I reflected long upon all that I had learned. The -woman was Caroline; I could not doubt it; and yet a feeble ray of hope -still gleamed in the depths of my heart. I determined to go to her, but -to conceal my feelings, and to try, if possible, to read her heart, to -detect her treachery in her eyes. But, above all, I would be sensible, -philosophical, and try to penetrate myself with the truth of these two -lines: - - "Let dandies rage, let fools cry lack-a-day; - The wise man, cozened, silent goes away." - - - - -XXII - -THE LITTLE SUPPER PARTY - - -I arrived at her apartment. My appearance did not seem to embarrass her; -she greeted me with a smile and spoke to me as usual. Could it be that I -had suspected her wrongfully? But she did not observe my agitation! The -secret excitement which I strove to conceal would not have escaped the -eyes of love! They see everything, divine everything! And Caroline asked -me no questions, although I was on fire and talked at random; although I -was momentarily on the point of exploding and could hardly refrain from -outward manifestations of the torments I was undergoing!--No, she did -not love me. - -I told her that I intended to pass the day with her. I fancied that I -could detect embarrassment in her glance; but she speedily recovered -herself. - -"You always give me pleasure by staying with me," she said at last, in -that soft voice which had fascinated me at our meeting on the boulevard. -Ah! such voices are as deceitful as the others! - -In vain did I try to compose my features and assume a cheerful air; I -could not manage it. I felt as if something were choking me, suffocating -me. I had had that feeling so often!--I went to the window, but -instantly turned away; I must not run the risk of being recognized in -the evening. Oh! what a tedious day it was! I put forward the dinner -hour; never, I think, was a dinner so dreary to me! Caroline complained -of a headache; but I did not complain. If I could only have made love to -her! I tried; but her replies seemed commonplace beyond words to me. A -conversation between two people who have ceased to love each other is -woefully stupid. - -I suggested that we go to the theatre. She declined; her headache was -growing worse, and she felt very uncomfortable. - -"Perfidious creature!" I said to myself; "I understand! Why not say to -me frankly: 'I no longer love you'? I should be less angry with you if -you did that. But, no, falsehood and dissimulation must needs be added -to inconstancy; you must always deceive us!" - -"Would you like me to stay with you?" I asked, pretending to be anxious -about her health. - -"No, no, thanks! All I need is rest; I shall have forgotten all about it -to-morrow." - -She could not conceal the fright caused by my proposition, which would -have upset all her plans. It was in my power to prevent their execution -that evening by remaining with her; but what would the result be? I -should simply postpone the catastrophe, and I should not have the -pleasure of confounding her an hour or two hence! Ah! I had no desire to -postpone that moment! I wished that it had already arrived. When we know -that we are to undergo a painful trial, the moments that precede it are -more cruel than those that follow it. - -The clock struck eight; she went to bed, in order to try to sleep. That -was the signal for me to retire. I bade her good-night. She came to me -to kiss me; she pressed my hand, and her eyes were dry, her heart beat -no faster!--I left the house; it was high time, for I was on the point -of breaking out! - -I was not sorry to have two hours before me previous to meeting Raymond. -I had time to calm myself and to decide what course to pursue. I felt at -once that the fresh air did me good. I have had that experience hundreds -of times; an atmosphere more or less heavy has a great influence on our -way of looking at things, especially when we are so unfortunate as to -have excitable nerves. A little rain, a little wind, calms or arouses -our passions; those which are natural are submissive to nature, and, -thank heaven! I know no other passions and do not agree with those -persons who declare that all passions are natural. - -For my sake she left her aunt, her little Jules, and many others! Why -should she not leave me as well? She had ceased to love me: that was not -a crime. But she had deceived me: that, I believe, was what distressed -me most; for it humiliates one to be deceived, especially when one is -old enough one's self to deceive. - -However, such a liaison is bound to end, a little sooner or later. What -did it matter? I was no longer in love with her. That, I believe, was -why I was so incensed with her. I was vexed because I had allowed her to -anticipate me. Love forgives many things that self-esteem refuses to -forgive. - -If Nicette should deceive me! then, I felt that my grief would be a very -different matter. I remembered how disturbed, how agitated, I was when I -learned that she had taken a shop; and yet, I was only her friend. I -tried to think of Nicette; that was the best remedy for Caroline's -treatment of me. - -I walked the whole length of the boulevards. I had had time to reason -with myself, and I had fully decided upon my course of action. I -realized what an idiot a man must be to torment himself over the -treachery of a woman who has thrown others over for him. Indeed, how can -one rely on the word of a person who has no other guaranty to offer than -previous infidelities. - -I decided, therefore, to amuse myself at Mademoiselle Caroline's -expense. That is the most satisfactory vengeance one can wreak on a -woman who deceives one. Every vengeance which savors of hatred, -jealousy, or anger denotes a lingering remnant of love; it is not real -vengeance. - -At ten o'clock I was at the Caf Anglais. I ordered a glass of punch, -pending Raymond's arrival. I did not propose to muddle my wits, but I -desired to attain that degree of excitement which makes one less -sensible of the folly of other people. My neighbor appeared, in the -careful nglig of a lady killer. One would have thought, from his -radiant expression, that he was the hero of the evening's festivities. - -"We shall have great sport," he said, taking a seat by my side, and -resting his elbow on the next table, regardless of the fact that he put -it in the dish of rice and milk of an old habitu. - -"What the devil, monsieur! be careful what you're doing!" said the old -gentleman, putting down his newspaper. Raymond apologized profusely, and -removed his thoroughly drenched elbow from the bowl with such vivacity -that he rolled it onto the white trousers of a dandy who was reading the -_Journal des Modes_. - -The dandy made a great outcry, the old habitu scolded Raymond roundly, -and I saw that his apologies would soon bring matters to a climax. As I -did not propose that any fresh scrape should interfere with our going to -Monsieur de Grandmaison's, I made haste to intervene, striving to -pacify the two gentlemen and to restore peace. I succeeded at last, and, -dreading some new mishap, I dragged Raymond out of the caf. - -"The evening seems to open inauspiciously," I said, as I led him toward -Rue Caumartin. - -"Pshaw! far from it! this incident promises sport. It wasn't my fault -that that old politician stuck his rice right under my arm; he ought to -have eaten it, instead of reading his newspaper; and then it wouldn't -have happened.--But it's half-past ten; let's make haste; I'll bet -they're waiting for us." - -"For you, you mean." - -"Oh! I wrote Grandmaison a line to tell him I should bring one of my -friends; so he expects you." - -We arrived at Rue Caumartin and entered a pretentious mansion; it was -directly opposite Caroline's rooms. We ascended a superb staircase; we -passed through several antechambers, lighted by globes suspended from -the ceiling, where half a dozen lackeys were yawning. Everything denoted -opulence and ostentation. I had not all that to offer her. I had thought -that I was doing a great deal for her: I had straitened myself and run -into debt; and what had I to show for it?--Ah! I was not likely to -forget my experience as a protector! - -My heart beat fast as I drew near the little salon where the company -awaited us; but I soon recovered my self-possession. We entered the -room, where I saw four men, but the host was not among them. - -"Ah! good-evening, my friends!" said Raymond, running from one to -another of the guests to shake hands. "Allow me to present a friend of -mine, a good fellow, who has a fancy to enjoy himself with us -to-night.--But where's Grandmaison?" - -"In the boudoir; he's taming his pet before supper." - -"Ah! to be sure! to be sure! they are making their final arrangements, -perfecting their agreement. Have you seen her, messieurs?" - -"Not yet. They say she's charming!" - -"Fascinating; and almost a novice!" - -"The deuce! that's a marvel!" - -"So Grandmaison wishes us to be less indecent than usual." - -"Good! We'll proceed by degrees, so as not to frighten her. But still, -this little one must be trained, and, really, Grandmaison is not the man -to do it!" - -"Poor man! the utmost he can do will be to say a word or two to -her--after supper." - -"He's not a blunt talker, like Joconde." - -"No; but his wine is delicious." - -"And he has an excellent cook." - -"Upon my word, I have the greatest esteem for him!" - -"For the cook?" - -"No; for Grandmaison, you sorry joker!--Come, messieurs; no remarks with -a double meaning; that's forbidden to-day. Besides, I am for morals -before everything!" - -During this pleasant conversation, I amused myself by examining the four -gentlemen. One, who was short, stout, and red-headed, contented himself -with laughing at every sally of the others, but did not venture to add -any of his own. He who talked most was a little man of some fifty years, -who tried to outdo the younger men by assuming the airs of a rake and -uttering all the obscenities that came into his head. A thin, pallid -young man, whose hollow, lifeless eyes betrayed his abuse of life, was -stretched out in an easy-chair, and swayed to and fro as he addressed -an occasional senseless rhapsody to the jocose Raymond, who was in his -element. A tall, bulky individual, with large oxlike eyes and a nose -that would have put a colocynth to shame, completed the circle, which, -in my opinion, lacked only Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche. - -At last a door at the end of the room opened and Monsieur de Grandmaison -appeared, dragging his leg after him. But he was alone. - -"Where is she? where is she?" cried all the guests, with one voice. - -"One moment! one moment, pray! you'll see her in a moment. She is giving -a little attention to her toilet. When I told her that she was to sup -with some friends of mine, she didn't want to appear in nglig; and -then, too, I am not sorry to let her see all the presents I have for -her. I left her with a lady's-maid. A little patience and some -punch--that will help us to wait for our supper." - -Raymond presented me to Monsieur de Grandmaison, who exhausted himself -in commonplace felicitations upon my kindness in honoring his little -party. I answered in fear and trembling, lest he should recognize me; -but my apprehension soon vanished; I saw that Monsieur de Grandmaison -needed his opera glass to distinguish objects. - -An enormous bowl of punch was brought, and the gentlemen did it so much -honor that I was very doubtful what their condition would be at supper. -The tall man with the stupid face, whom the others called _milord_, did -nothing but fill his glass and empty it; while the little red-headed -fellow, whom I heard them call Zamorin, stuffed himself with macaroons, -cake, and biscuits, to assist him to wait for the supper. - -The old rake and the languid young man questioned Grandmaison concerning -his new mistress's features; and the host went into her charms in -detail, promising to inform them more fully on the morrow. - -"What shall we call her?" inquired Raymond. - -"Her name is Madame Saint-Lon. A pretty name, isn't it, messieurs?" - -"Yes, very pretty. I think a great deal of the name myself." - -"Has she any children?" - -"Idiot! didn't I tell you that she was almost a novice?" - -"True; but _almost_ doesn't mean that----" - -"Nonsense! hold your tongue, Raymond; you insult innocence!" said -Monsieur Rocambolle, the old rake. "I am sure that Grandmaison found -this woman at Les Vertus." - -Enchanted by his jest, Monsieur Rocambolle turned, with a laugh, to the -young man; who laughed with him, showing two or three discolored teeth, -his only remaining ones. - -Amid the general clatter, as I did not wish to seem bored in the -agreeable company of these gentry, I said at random whatever came into -my head; and sometimes, without any effort to that end, I had the -pleasure of making the merry fellows laugh. - -"Didn't I tell you that he was a wag, a delightful fellow?" cried -Raymond. - -I was a delightful fellow! I swear that I had taken no pains to be -delightful, but I fancy that my companions were not exacting. - -Supper was announced, and Grandmaison looked at his watch. - -"Three-quarters of an hour," he said; "she must be ready; I will fetch -her. Go into the supper room, and I will bring her to you there." - -He left the room, and Raymond, who was familiar with the locality, led -us into a round, elegantly decorated room, in the centre of which was a -table laden with everything calculated to flatter the sight, the smell, -and the taste. - -A handsome clock on a low white marble mantel marked within a few -minutes of midnight. - -"The devil!" exclaimed Monsieur Rocambolle; "almost twelve o'clock! We -shall have mighty little time to enjoy ourselves." - -"Or to eat," said Zamorin. - -"Wait, wait, messieurs," said Raymond, who always insisted upon finding -a way to provide for everything; "I'll set it back an hour." - -"Well said! well said!" cried all the others. "That devil of a Raymond -is never at a loss! he's as inventive as a girl." - -Overjoyed to display the resources of his imagination, Raymond ran to -the clock, raised with startling rapidity the globe that covered it, -moved back the hands, and set the regulator so far toward _slow_ that, -from the way in which he went about it, I concluded it would not be -midnight for two hours. Our attention was diverted by Monsieur de -Grandmaison's voice, which announced the arrival of her whom all the -guests awaited, but how much less impatiently than myself! - -All eyes were turned toward the door by which she was to enter; I alone -stood aside, in such a position that she would not see me at once. We -heard the rustling of her gown, but at that moment there was a loud -report in the room; Raymond had broken the mainspring of the clock; and -to cover up his stupidity, he hurried away from the fireplace and ran to -meet the beauty who was to be presented to us. - -She appeared at last, escorted by Monsieur de Grandmaison and by -Raymond, who had taken possession of her other hand and was already -pouring forth all the pretty things he was capable of saying. I saw her, -and my heart beat more violently, my chest swelled. That was the last -time that her presence ever produced any effect on me. - -She was magnificently dressed: an emerald necklace gleamed on her -breast, a very handsome comb and long earrings added to the splendor of -her costume. She entered the room with downcast eyes, assuming a modest -air almost exactly like that which deceived me the first time I saw her. -That woman was able to do whatever she chose with her face. - -"Now," thought I, "let us see how she will endure a sight of me." - -She raised her eyes to the company at last; instantly a concert of -praise and compliments burst forth. She was in truth very fair to look -upon, and the gentlemen vied with one another in their efforts to find -words enthusiastic enough to depict their ecstasy and enchantment. How -happy she was at that moment! there was a flush on her brow, but it was -a flush of pleasure, of pride, not of modesty. - -"But where's my friend?" cried Raymond, looking about for me. He spied -me in the corner from which I was observing the scene, ran to me, seized -my hand, and dragged me toward Caroline. - -"Come on," he said; "come, I say, and see the Three Graces! She's Hebe, -she's Venus, she's Psyche, she's----" - -Raymond was interrupted by a cry from Caroline. She glanced at me as I -began to pay my respects to her, congratulating Monsieur de Grandmaison. -She turned pale, stammered, tried to recover herself; but the shock was -too sharp; she tottered, and fell upon her latest adorer. He, being then -occupied in responding to his friends' congratulations, received the -young woman's weight as he was about to take a pinch of snuff, to help -him to make some witty response. The poor man was not strong enough to -resist that unexpected blow; his left leg was always out of line, and -Caroline's weight causing the right one to bend, Monsieur de Grandmaison -fell heavily, trying to grasp what was nearest him, which happened to be -Monsieur Rocambolle's thigh. He clung to that, which he supposed to be -an integral part of the person, but his hand grasped nothing but the -cotton wool with which the old libertine stuffed his breeches in order -to improve his shape. The broadcloth split and tore, and Monsieur -Rocambolle's fictitious thigh remained in Monsieur de Grandmaison's -hand. - -While Monsieur Rocambolle angrily reclaimed his cotton posterior, while -the toothless youth threw himself upon a couch, laughing like a maniac, -while Zamorin looked to see if the supper were growing cold, and while -milord gazed from one to another of the company with eyes that seemed to -be starting from his head, Raymond, wishing to repair the damage -unassisted, rushed to the table in search of something to give the -fainting woman. As he put out his hand for a carafe, he overturned a -decanter of madeira, also a candelabrum, the candles in which fell upon -a fromage glac and went out. The decanter fell on Monsieur de -Grandmaison's face, who swore that his nose was broken; while Zamorin, -seeing the havoc Raymond was making on the supper table, called loudly -for help. The servants hastened to the spot, but their presence served -only to increase the confusion. Caroline was still unconscious, or -pretended to be in order to conceal her embarrassment; Monsieur de -Grandmaison continued to curse, Monsieur Rocambolle to shout, Zamorin to -lament, and the young man to laugh; the Englishman tried to put a bottle -or two of champagne in a safe place; and Raymond, in attempting to -assist the young woman, to raise Grandmaison, and to restore order, -overturned furniture, smashed bottles and plates, sent a chicken in one -man's face, a pie into another's lap, and ended by falling upon a small -table laden with liqueurs and brandied fruits. - -What further business had I at Monsieur de Grandmaison's? My revenge was -complete; the confusion was at its height; the scene of pleasure was -transformed into a scene of uproar and distress; singing had given place -to outcries, bonsmots to lamentations, drunkenness to wrath, merriment -to gloom; in a word, Caroline had seen and recognized me, and the effect -had surpassed my anticipations. I was satisfied; and leaving them all to -extricate themselves from their plight as best they could, I left -Monsieur de Grandmaison's house, thoroughly cured of the sentiment the -young flowermaker had inspired in me. - - - - -XXIII - -THE TWO VISITS.--THE LESSON IN HANDWRITING - - -On the following morning, at nine o'clock, my doorbell rang. I was still -in bed, reviewing the events of the evening, and laughing at that which -had been powerless hitherto to extort a smile from me, because a single -sentiment had filled my mind and prevented me from considering the scene -from its comic side. But now that my head was cool, my heart tranquil, -and my mind no longer tormented by the anticipation of what was to -happen, I thought of the different personages I had left at Monsieur de -Grandmaison's house; I fancied that I could see them gathered about the -lost supper, lost by the exertions of Monsieur Raymond; and I laughed -all by myself, as if I were still in their midst. - -If at that moment some inquisitive mortal, escorted by the _Diable -Boiteux_ or some other imp, had perched on the roof of my house and -amused himself by watching me, he would have thought, no doubt, that I -was temporarily insane. For my own part, I cannot see that it was any -more extraordinary to laugh at those reminiscences than it would have -been to weep at them; but we are never astonished to see a person shed -tears; whereas, if you laugh all by yourself, you are looked upon as a -madman or an idiot. Can it be that tears are more natural to man than -laughter? - -My concierge, who, as I believe I have already told you, did my -housework every morning, opened my door and ushered in my neighbor -Raymond, who, seeing that I was in a hilarious mood, thought that his -presence was responsible for it, and stood for a moment uncertain -whether to be angry or to join in my laughter. He prudently adopted the -latter course, and approached my bed chuckling. - -"Well, my dear fellow, it was a warm evening! Ha! ha! ha! You are still -thinking about it, aren't you?" - -"Yes, but I look to you for the details of the catastrophe." - -"And I to you for an explanation." - -"Do you want it in the Bois de Boulogne again?" - -"No, no! Ah! you fox! the lovely Caroline had some reason for fainting -when she saw you!" - -"A perfectly natural reason: I am the young man whom Monsieur de -Grandmaison has replaced." - -"Is it possible? Gad! it was a unique situation! And to think that it -was I who took you to the supper and introduced you to poor Grandmaison! -Deuce take it! you never said a word, you did not give me your -confidence, although I am devoted to you, heart and soul!" - -"I wanted to arrange a surprise." - -"You succeeded mighty well!" - -"Tell me how the evening ended?" - -"Very dismally. There wasn't any supper. The young woman insisted on -retiring. Poor Grandmaison's face was cut by a bottle of wine that fell -on him, heaven knows how, and we had to leave them at liberty to go to -bed. But I fancy the night passed very differently from what they -anticipated. We parted in an execrable humor. Rocambolle was angry about -his cotton padding, Zamorin regretted the supper, and the other the -youthful beauty whom he hoped to seduce. I am the only one of the party -who takes everything philosophically, as you know. But I confess that I -was impatient to see you, to learn the cause of the catastrophe which -disturbed the festivities. I came near waking you up last night, in -order to find out earlier." - -"You did very well to let me sleep." - -"Well, I must go, neighbor; but, I beg you, have a little more -confidence in me another time! You know how close-mouthed I am; you can -safely tell me anything! I always receive it under the seal of secrecy. -I should have made an excellent inquisitor, or an _illumin_! I love -secrets. In the matter of secrets, I am absolutely impenetrable. For -instance--I am a Freemason: have I ever divulged the secrets of the -order?" - -"You have told me that there weren't any." - -"True, true; but I said that to deceive you the better. Adieu, -neighbor!--By the way, do you know the news? They say that the Baron de -Witcheritche wears horns. There's a young musician who offered to show -the baroness how to play the serpent; the husband consented, because it -would be one more string to their bow, and it might be useful on -occasion. Moreover, the baron thought that he would compose some little -duets for the violin and the serpent, that he and his wife could perform -in company. So the musician came every morning to give her lessons; but -one fine day, Witcheritche, who was supposed to be in the country, -returned home unexpectedly; he found the teacher's method of instruction -too progressive and the baroness too apt. It seems that Witcheritche -wasn't as fond of music as usual that day; for he shrieked and swore; -his wife wept, the musician skipped; in short, there was a scandalous -scene. Little Friquet, whom I happened to meet the other day, told me -about it; he had it from his aunt, who had it from Madame Bertin, who -had it from Crachini, who had it from Gripaille, who had it from a young -lady who lives in the house with Witcheritche. But I say that we -shouldn't be too ready to believe rumors; we should go back to the -fountain head. I am going to the baron's this morning; I shall see -whether he is on cool terms with his wife, and I'll find a way to make -him tell me everything, without seeming to do so, by just mentioning the -serpent. Adieu! I have to finish a little vaudeville for which I have an -order from Rue de Chartres." - -"Have you had a play accepted at some theatre?" - -"Why, I have had plays accepted everywhere." - -"It's strange that they are never produced." - -"Oh! I'll tell you why that is: when they are not produced at once, I -withdraw them! I have a will of my own, you know. Withdrawn at once, if -not produced as soon as I request it. It's like my pictures, my little -water-colors, which I don't send to the Salon, for fear they'll be hung -in a bad light. A man should have some pride; veritable talent is -centred within itself, and there always comes a time when its envelope -is pierced.--Adieu, neighbor! I'll give you a chance to dress." - -"That man ought to be happy," I said to myself, thinking of Raymond; "he -has no doubt of anything; he believes himself to be intellectual, -talented, and handsome. If a woman doesn't listen to him, it's because -she's afraid of loving him too well; if his poems are not printed, it's -because the publishers are ignorant; if his plays are not accepted, a -cabal of authors is responsible: his self-esteem does not allow him to -look at things from any but a flattering point of view. I am convinced -that he believes himself to be courageous, although he fought a duel -with bulletless pistols; and that he would consider himself a soldier if -he were in the band of the national lottery; just as he thinks he has a -fine leg because he has fat calves, and beautiful hair because he's as -woolly-headed as a negro. However, he is happy, and that's the main -point. Happy people are not so rare as they are said to be; for there -are many in the world who resemble neighbor Raymond." - -If it had not been so late, I would have gone to see Nicette; to read in -her eyes that sentiment so sweet, so affectionate, and, perhaps, so -true, that I had never found in Mademoiselle Caroline's lovely eyes; I -say _perhaps_, for I dared not trust anything or anybody. - -On going out I unconsciously took the direction of Rue Caumartin, nor -did I stop until I reached the corner of that street and the boulevard. -It was all a matter of habit; habit is responsible for many things that -we do. In fact, it is a sort of second nature, it binds us in default of -love. How many people there are who have ceased to love each other, and -who remain together from habit! I do not refer to those who are married; -they cannot do otherwise. - -In order to put an end the sooner to that habit, which could not be very -deeply rooted, as my intimacy with Caroline had lasted only two months, -I determined to call upon Madame de Marsan, with whom I recalled that I -had been more or less in love. At all events, I owed her a visit for the -invitation which she had sent me, and of which I had been unable to -avail myself, thanks to my travelling companion. - -She lived on Faubourg Saint-Honor, I remembered, near the first street -on the right; in any event, I could inquire; rich people are well known -and are always easy to find; it is only the poor who are ashamed of -their poverty whom no one knows; but then, it is so seldom that anyone -seeks them. I bent my steps toward Faubourg Saint-Honor and inquired -for Monsieur de Marsan. Three or four persons eagerly showed me his -house, pointed it out with their fingers. Evidently Monsieur de Marsan -was a very wealthy man! everybody knew him or wished to appear to know -him. Really, wealth is a fine thing! - -His house was, in fact, of imposing aspect; less elegant, less -ostentatious perhaps, than Monsieur de Grandmaison's; but I suspected -that it was more productive, and to a man of calculating mind that -advantage is certain to outweigh others. It was only twelve o'clock; -might I see madame? It was very early for the first call on a pretty -woman, especially one who has passed her thirtieth year. The further a -lady recedes from her springtime, the more time she spends at her -toilet, so that she cannot be visible very early. At fifteen, a girl -appears just as she happens to be; at twenty, she receives callers in a -simple nglig; at twenty-five, she poses before her mirror for some -time before she appears; at thirty, she takes much pains with her -toilet; at thirty-six--but that would carry us too far; let us pause at -thirty-six. - -The concierge told me to go up to the first floor, the left-hand door; -that led to madame's apartment. Monsieur's offices were on the ground -floor. I walked through several rooms, and found at last a young -lady's-maid--who was not pretty, and with whom no man was likely to -tarry when he was going to see her mistress. I asked for madame, gave my -name, and the maid went to announce me. I waited only five minutes; that -is not too long to wait to see a pretty woman, when so many wealthy -fools, vulgar parvenus, and public officials have the assurance to keep -visitors waiting an hour before they condescend to show their inane -faces. - -"You may enter, monsieur," said the lady's-maid, and she ushered me into -her mistress's presence. This prompt reception seemed to me of favorable -augury. - -I found Madame de Marsan sitting on a causeuse in a pretty little room -decorated in the daintiest style, where the light, being filtered -through double curtains and blinds, was very soft. I spied a piano, a -harp, and music. I have a great liking for women who are fond of music, -and a greater for those who play or sing; it is a sure resource in -idleness; and a woman who does nothing thinks too much. - -Madame de Marsan received me with an amiable smile, in which I fancied -that I could detect a shade of vexation. I attributed it to the absence -of zeal on my part in calling upon her; and that course of action, -which, however, was not premeditated, served me better than the most -assiduous love-making would have done. She was piqued; she believed that -she had surely subjugated me, and she had not seen me since. In truth, -that must have seemed very strange to her after the way I had ogled her -at the theatre and my conduct at Vauvert's; it surprised myself, for I -now thought her a hundred times prettier than Caroline. - -She did not reproach me, however; but I made haste to apologize for -having failed to avail myself of her invitation, and told her what had -happened to Raymond and myself. The story of our adventures at -Montmorency made Madame de Marsan laugh heartily; and merriment, by -banishing the etiquette and formality of a first interview, permitted -our minds to understand each other and our hearts to divine each other. - -In order to prolong my visit, I urged Madame de Marsan to sing to me. -She consented, and acquitted herself with a grace and good taste that -fascinated me. She accompanied herself perfectly on the piano; in short, -she was a thorough musician. How she must have suffered at Vauvert's -party!--But I realized that I must not unduly prolong the first -interview. It is judicious to make people desire one's presence, and not -to be too lavish of one's self at first, especially with women who are -accustomed to homage and love-making; in fact, to being assiduously -courted. Hitherto I had never had the art of concealing what I felt; -perhaps I was boasting too soon, but I had determined to be on my guard -in the future! My last adventure had revived all my grievances against a -sex which I could not shun, but to which I would gladly have repaid a -part of the torments it had caused me. - -I took leave, therefore, of Madame de Marsan. - -"Will you be as long again without letting me hear from you?" she asked, -as I rose to go. - -"No, madame; I shall take frequent advantage of the permission you -accord me to come to see you and listen to your singing. I trust that -you will not consider that I abuse it." - -"Be assured, monsieur, that I shall never complain of that. You love -music, and we will sing together sometimes. I go out very little; and it -will be very good of you to make one of our little circle." - -She was a charming woman. I am inclined to think that I say that every -time my heart takes fire. But, no matter; I may as well repeat it, as -the same sentiments were constantly renewed in my heart. What she had -said to me could not have been more amiable. She could not see me too -often--that was almost a declaration! I left her, with the most -flattering hopes stirring in my breast, believing that I was adored -already. To be sure, according to what Raymond had told me, it would not -be her first weakness; he had spoken, I think, of three or four -_inclinations_. But I refused to judge Madame de Marsan according to the -remarks of my neighbor, who was a liar and a slanderer. - -"I will go to her house this evening," I thought. But, no; that would be -altogether too soon! I had vowed never again to go so fast in an -intrigue, but to try to learn first of all the character of the woman -who attracted me, to avoid letting my sentiments appear until I was sure -of hers; and lo! I had taken fire already! I wanted to obtain everything -at once! Ah! I was incorrigible; I should never know how to spin out a -genuine romance. - -I determined not to go to Madame de Marsan's again for two days. -Meanwhile, I must have distraction; not that I was still thinking of -Mademoiselle Caroline! so far as she was concerned, I was thoroughly -cured; indeed, I had concluded that the wound was not very deep. -However, if I were left to my own devices, my natural impatience would -drive me to Madame de Marsan. But had I not always Nicette to oppose to -ennui, sorrow, and, above all, new love affairs?--I would see her; but -not yet, for it was only two o'clock. I should be seen talking with her, -and that was what I did not want. I must wait until night; so I went -home, thinking that I would try to straighten out my affairs a little -before dinner. - -I found there a letter from my sister. Poor Amlie! She complained that -I had entirely forgotten her. In truth, it was now September, and I had -not yet been to see her. If I could have gone for two or three days; but -that was impossible! when I was once there, she would never let me -go.--She wrote of a superb match she had found for me: sixteen years -old, beauty, virtue, and fortune. I agreed that the combination was -dazzling, but it did not tempt me as yet; perhaps in two or three -years--we would see. I made up my mind, however, to go to Amlie and her -husband for a fortnight during the autumn; indeed, it was essential that -I should do something to set my affairs in order, for my liaison with -the flowermaker had disarranged them sadly. The deuce! at the rate -things had been going, my income would soon have disappeared. I was much -indebted to her for leaving me soon enough to prevent my ruining myself. -With six months of strict economy, I should be able to pay my debts; for -six months, therefore, I would abstain from those passions that cost so -dear; Mademoiselle Caroline had proved that the women for whom we do the -most are not the ones who love us best. - -At nightfall, I went to see Nicette. Her shop was closed; but I saw a -light through the glass over the door. I knocked softly, fearing to -attract the attention of the neighbors. I had every appearance of a -lover who is afraid of being seen. - -"Who is there?" she asked. - -"It's I, Nicette; it's----" - -But I did not need to give my name; the door was already open and she -was before me. I entered the shop, closing the door behind me; then -paused to examine the girl, who was all alone amid the flowers and -shrubs which filled the whole shop, save a small space where there were -a table and a chair. The table was covered with paper, pens, and books; -and a single candle lighted that little room, where the different -flowers diffused a most agreeable odor. - -She bade me sit beside her. - -"How kind you are to come to see me, Monsieur Dorsan, and to think of me -sometimes!" - -"Don't you think of me, Nicette?" - -"Oh! all the time! but that's no reason why--why--I mean, it's very -different!" - -"What were you doing when I came?" - -"I was writing, monsieur--learning my lesson." - -She blushed as she said it. I glanced at the table and saw several -sheets of paper covered with large letters--a name written again and -again--and that name, mine! Poor Nicette! - -I looked at her; she blushed even more, and stammered, lowering her -eyes: - -"I beg your pardon, monsieur, for taking your name for a copy; but I -thought that my benefactor's name ought to be the first thing that I -wrote." - -I took her hands and pressed them. - -"Really, Nicette, I do not deserve so much friendship--if you knew me -better!" - -"Oh! I know you well enough by all that you have done for me." - -"Are you happy now?" - -"Yes, monsieur; I can't be more so." - -The tone in which she said that, and the melancholy expression of her -face, gave me much food for thought. - -"You seem to me much changed, Nicette." - -"How, monsieur?" - -"You are pale, and a little thinner than you were." - -"But I am not sick." - -"Perhaps this smell of flowers----" - -"Oh! I've been used to that a long time." - -"I miss in your manner that light-heartedness and vivacity that I -noticed at the time of our first meeting." - -"Oh! a person can't be always the same." - -"Still, if you have nothing to distress you----" - -"No, monsieur, no, I haven't anything." - -"Your eyes tell me the contrary. Dear Nicette, you have been crying." - -"No, monsieur; and even if I had--why, sometimes one cries without -knowing why, and without being unhappy." - -We said nothing more. I did not choose to question her further, for I -thought that I could guess what caused her distress. She did not look at -me again; doubtless she was afraid that I would read her eyes. She was -pensive and silent. Nor could I find anything to say. Her sadness had -infected my heart. But the silence had a charm which we both enjoyed. -However, I thought that I ought to try to divert her thoughts, and at -the same time turn my own mind from reflections that were too hazardous. -I went to the table and looked at the paper and the writing. - -"You write well already, Nicette." - -"Not any too well yet, monsieur; but I hope, with time----" - -"Do you still take lessons?" - -"No, I haven't any teacher now; he said things to me that I didn't like; -he didn't want to give me the word I wanted for a copy; he always made -me write: _Commencement, commonly, exactly_; and I didn't see why I -couldn't learn just as well by writing _Dorsan_ as _commonly_, although -it isn't so long. That made him angry, so I sent him away; I can get -along without him. I know how to write the small letters too." - -"Let me see." - -"Oh! my hand would tremble before you, monsieur." - -"Why so? I will give you a lesson." - -"Will you, really?" - -"Why, yes; to be sure." - -She seated herself at the table; I placed a chair close beside hers, put -my right arm about her, and guided her hand with mine; my face touched -her hair; her whole body was against mine; I inhaled her sweet breath, -and I could count the beating of her heart. Ah! what pleasure that -lesson afforded me! Unconsciously, without premeditation, I made her -write _I love you_ again and again. My hand trembled as violently as the -hand I was guiding. But a tear fell from her eyes. The pen dropped from -our hands. I have no idea how it happened; but Nicette's pretty face was -hidden against my breast, her two arms were about me, and mine pressed -her fondly to my heart. At that moment I felt that even if Madame de -Marsan, or any other woman, were present, I would not put Nicette's arms -away. - -We had been a long while in that position and did not think of changing -it. Nicette was happy, and I--I must confess it--enjoyed a pleasure that -I had never known before, a pleasure of which I had no conception, -undisturbed by any desire for which I need blush. But, engrossed as I -was by the present, I could not answer for the future; another caress -might kindle a conflagration. - -There came a loud knock at the door of the shop. Nicette started from my -arms, and I looked at her with some disquietude. - -"Who can have come to see you so late? You told me that you had no -acquaintances." - -"I don't know who it is; I don't expect anybody!" - -Her eyes reassured me; they could not lie! But the knocking was -repeated, and we distinguished these words: - -"Open the door, open quick, Mamzelle Nicette! your mother's very sick -and wants to see you." - -Nicette ran to the door and recognized the daughter of one of Madame -Jrme's neighbors. The girl told her that her mother had had an -apoplectic attack as the result of a violent quarrel with her daughter -Fanchon; and feeling very ill, she longed to see the child she had so -unjustly turned out of doors. Nicette flew about the shop; in an instant -she had taken off her apron and put on her cap. - -"Adieu, adieu, Monsieur Dorsan!" she said, in a trembling voice, and -with eyes filled with tears; "my mother is sick and I must forget -everything." - -We left the shop; she took the little girl's arm and dragged her away; -the child could hardly keep pace with her. I soon lost sight of them. - -Sweet girl! she possessed all the virtues, and I loved her better than I -thought, more dearly than I had ever loved. The most convincing proof -that I really loved her was that I had thus far respected her innocence; -but I felt that I must avoid going to see her at night; to be alone with -her would be too dangerous. If it had not been for that knocking--I do -not know what might have happened. - -I decided to return to Madame de Marsan, so as to turn my thoughts from -Nicette; I must give my brain occupation, in order to allow my heart to -become calmer. By that means I should at least provide myself with a -pardonable motive for my new follies. - - - - -XXIV - -THE BOURGEOIS COMEDY.--THE REHEARSAL - - -For several days my conduct was really most exemplary; I paid court to -Madame de Marsan, concerning whom my neighbor had told me too much. I -did not go again to see Nicette at night; and when I passed her shop -during the day, I bade her good-morning without stopping. Her black -dress told me of the loss she had sustained, but I did not ask her for -any details of Madame Jrme's death. - -Madame de Marsan was a very agreeable, lively, coquettish person; I -found several young men assiduously attentive to her, but had no idea -whether they were more fortunate than I. I was not sufficiently enamored -of her to be jealous; and yet, it annoyed me to see that swarm of -admirers who so often forced themselves between her and myself. Twenty -times I was tempted to cease to augment their number, but a secret hope -whispered to me that I was the preferred one and that I should distance -all my rivals. - -Madame de Marsan's receptions were delightful: the company was select, -the women were pretty, the men well bred; courtesy without affectation -or reserve was the ordinary rule; we were lively and cheerful without -ceasing to be decent, gallant without mawkishness; and if anyone did say -something a little spiteful, it was said in the good-natured tone in -which one may say anything with impunity. The music was excellent, -without being pretentious; sometimes they played for high stakes, but -you could never detect the faintest emotion on the faces of the players; -in good society, people know how to lose their money with a charming -grace. - -The month of October was drawing near, and before the winter should come -and open the season for balls Madame de Marsan proposed to give a party -at her country house, at which there were to be some theatricals. I had -been hearing of this function for a long while, and extensive -preparations were being made therefor. The matter of the plays to be -given was thoroughly discussed, and at last they fixed upon _Le Barbier -de Sville_ and _Fanchon la Vielleuse_. Madame de Marsan insisted that I -should take part. I had never acted in anything but charades, but I -could not refuse to do whatever she wished. I was cast for Lindor, and -she for Rosine; I could not complain of that arrangement. The other -parts were distributed, and Raymond was not forgotten; he was an -invaluable man for bourgeois comedies. As for Monsieur de Marsan, he -never took part in theatricals. In large parties, husbands are of no use -except to provide the money. - -On the appointed day, Madame de Marsan went to her country house, where -all the actors were to report a week before the performance, in order to -have plenty of time to rehearse and arrange the stage business. Raymond, -who had left me in peace for some time, came to me now every morning to -urge me to hear him repeat the rle of Bartholo; and as he was to appear -in _Fanchon_ also, in the part of the Abb de Lattaignant, I must needs -teach him the airs he had to sing; for, although he held himself out as -a great musician, it took him a fortnight to learn a vaudeville -couplet, even though he always had some score or other in his pocket. - -"They'd have done much better to give some short new play instead of -this interminable _Fanchon_," my neighbor said to me every morning. "I'd -have written one myself! indeed, I have some all written, which would be -just the thing for amateurs!" - -"You ought to suggest them." - -"Pshaw! there's that Madame Saint-Marc, Madame de Marsan's friend, who's -determined to play Fanchon, because, I suppose, she thinks she's very -pretty _en marmotte_. And that tall thin fellow who wants to play -Sainte-Luce--we shall see how it goes. I myself could have played the -officer much better than the abb; the part's better suited to my figure -and style; however, I'm willing to take the other part to oblige; I -sacrifice myself. I hope, however, that if we have time, before the -fte, they'll play my little opera, _Les Amants Protgs par Vnus_; -there are only three short acts, but very spectacular. Listen, this is -the first----" - -"I'm studying my part." - -"Never mind, I want you to judge of the effect. The stage represents a -magnificent country house, where preparations for the wedding of the -lovers are in progress. The princess begins and says: - - "'Prince, 'tis here that we're to be united. - How happy I am! how----'" - -I listened no longer; and although the fte was not to come off for ten -days, I rid myself of Raymond by leaving Paris for Madame de Marsan's -country house, where I was not sorry to arrive in advance of the rest of -the guests. I hoped there to find a more favorable opportunity; and -opportunity is such a precious thing! Many people have owed their -happiness to it; all that is necessary is to know enough to grasp it. - -This time I had obtained such directions as were necessary to prevent my -going astray, and in due time I arrived at Madame de Marsan's estate. It -was almost a little chteau; the situation was delightful, the -surroundings beautiful; the gardens seemed quite extensive and very well -kept, the apartments decorated with refined taste, and so well arranged -that a large number of guests could easily be accommodated. But I -postponed my examination of these details, being in haste to present my -respects to the mistress of the house. - -"Madame is alone," said the maid; "none of the guests have arrived yet." - -I had hoped that that would be the case. - -"And Monsieur de Marsan?" - -"Oh! monsieur won't come until the day of the party or the day before. -He never meddles in such things." - -I could not have chosen my time better. I hastened to surprise her. The -welcome I received satisfied me that she was flattered by my zeal. - -"It is very good of you to come first," she said; "we can rehearse a -scene from _Le Barbier_ together. Our parts are very long, you know, -and, for my part, I have a very poor memory." - -"I will do whatever you please, madame." - -"Come first of all to look at our theatre. I am sure that you expect to -find a cramped little place, where your head touches the flies, and the -houses are smaller than the actors. Come, monsieur; I am determined that -the sight of our playhouse shall arouse a spirit of emulation in you." - -She laughingly led me into the garden; the theatre was in the centre. It -was large, convenient, and excellently arranged. The auditorium was -tastefully decorated and would hold about three hundred people. - -"Well, monsieur! what do you say to our theatre?" - -"That it would put many provincial theatres to shame." - -"And we flatter ourselves, too, that we give better performances than -one sees in the provinces. We do not shrink from anything: comedy, -vaudeville, opra-comique! We play everything except tragedy." - -"Why that exception?" - -"You will agree that in the best amateur company at least half of the -performers are good for nothing and provoke laughter, which in our -theatre is never prohibited; but we noticed that the audience always -laughed more at tragedies than at other plays; and as we could not -mistake that for applause, we have ceased to play any but merry pieces; -now, when we cause laughter we can persuade ourselves that it is a sign -of approval. There is always some way of sparing one's self-esteem, you -see. At our last performance we had a most complete success! We gave -_Porceaugnac_, with all the scenic accessories; nothing was forgotten; I -fancy that we bought all the syringes in Montmorency. But it was -charming, and it made a great sensation. It was spoken of in Paris; we -even had an article in the paper. You will agree, monsieur, that our -honor is involved now in maintaining our reputation." - -I promised Madame de Marsan to do my best to make myself worthy to -appear upon her stage; and we left it, to stroll through the garden. It -was almost a park; it was possible to lose one's self there, and I hoped -to take advantage of that fact. There was a little clump of trees, a -grotto, a bridge, which lacked nothing but water, dense, bosky groves, -shaded paths, turf that was always green, several pretty little -elevations, a subterranean path, a cliff, a waterfall, and all the games -that can be played in a garden. It was a delicious spot, into which it -seemed to me that ennui could never find its way. Madame de Marsan gave -me a small bedroom overlooking the fields. I should have been delighted -with it, except that it was a long way from hers. I reproached her for -it, and she answered with a jest. Patience! perhaps my turn would come. - -Meanwhile, it was incumbent on me to learn my part. Madame de Marsan -wished to rehearse some scenes that night, and she left me to study. No -constraint, no etiquette in the country. - -"Here," she said, "everyone does what he pleases--rises in the morning, -goes out to walk, stays in the house, goes away, returns, as his fancy -bids him. So long as you are prompt at meals, and, above all, at -rehearsals, you are absolutely your own master." - -I promised to conform to the established rules, and buried myself among -the trees to study the rle of Almaviva. But the thought that I was -alone in that house with Madame de Marsan--for servants and workmen do -not count--that thought made my mind wander. What! I was under the same -roof with a pretty woman, who allowed me to make love to her without -apparent displeasure, who seemed indeed to manifest something more than -interest in me--and I could be satisfied with anything less than a -complete victory!--I saw that I had to do with an accomplished coquette, -who perhaps pretended to be sensible to my attentions in order to keep -me bound to her chariot for a longer time. - -I looked forward to dining tte--tte with Madame de Marsan, but a -tiresome neighbor came to call, and he dined with us. I had an idea that -his presence was as disagreeable to her as to me, but, of course, she -must seem to be delighted to see him. Luckily, at the table the neighbor -talked for three; we were able to think of whatever was in our minds, -and still the conversation did not languish. The old gentleman hardly -gave himself time to breathe: he described his property to us in detail, -from the main entrance to the garden wall; we knew just how many acres -of land he had, and what his kitchen garden brought him in; how many -trees he had planted, the number of his hens, how many eggs they laid in -a week, what they were worth in the market, and a thousand other details -no less interesting to us. But while he was talking, my eyes carried on -a very different sort of conversation with Madame de Marsan. The -neighbor, engrossed by his crops and his betterments, did not notice it. -I discovered that loquacious people are sometimes very convenient. At -last, about half-past seven, the neighbor concluded to go home, to see -how many eggs his hens had laid during the day. He took his leave, and I -was alone with Madame de Marsan. We went out for a walk in the garden; -the verdure, the shadows, the silence, everything was conducive to -tenderness. I tried to speak of love; the coquette replied only by -repeating some of Rosine's lines. I continued, paying no heed to her. -She rebuked me. - -"That isn't right, monsieur," she said; "you haven't studied your part; -you don't know a word of it." - -"But, madame, I am not talking about our play." - -"What's that, monsieur! didn't we agree to rehearse?" - -"We have plenty of time." - -"No; I have a bad memory." - -"Then you refuse to listen to me?" - -"On the contrary, but give me my cue." - -"You have known a long while that I love you, that I adore you." - -"I know that all that is in your part, but you ought to say it -differently." - -"I see, madame, that you take pleasure in tormenting me." - -"Anger--passion--that's right! I assure you that you will act -splendidly!" - -What a woman! it was impossible to make her reply to the question that -interested me. We returned to the salon; I was in an execrable humor. I -rehearsed with the book in my hand, but I said my lines so badly that -Madame de Marsan laughed at me incessantly. I left her and went to bed; -I was almost tempted to remain no longer in that house. However, I did -remain; but I cursed womankind, all of whom played fast and loose with -me. The only one who combined all the estimable qualities, the only one -who manifested genuine affection for me, was the very one of all who -could neither be my wife nor my mistress. - -The next day I decided to learn my rle; perhaps that complaisance on my -part would be considered worthy of recompense; at all events, as I was -to act, I did not choose to make a more awkward appearance than the -others; so I studied Count Almaviva. I went into the garden, my _Barbier -de Sville_ in my hand. I have always been able to learn easily when I -chose; in less than four hours I was able to act almost the whole play. -I said nothing at dinner; I wished to surprise Madame de Marsan, who -asked me laughingly if I knew it as well as I did the previous evening. -When it was dark, we went to the salon; she refused to rehearse in the -garden, on the pretext that it was too cool there. Was that really her -reason? She took her part; I did not need mine, as I knew it perfectly. -We rehearsed our scenes; I acted with such vigor and earnestness, such -truth to nature, that she was struck dumb. Now it was my turn to scold -her; I was obliged to correct her, to show her what to do; but she was -delighted with my talent, and did whatever I bade her--let me take her -hand, squeeze it, kiss it, throw myself at her feet. - -"What! is all this in the play?" she asked, deeply moved. - -"Yes, madame, it's all there." - -And, taking advantage of my position, of all the privileges that my rle -of stage lover gave me, I was in a fair way to make rapid progress, when -we heard a commotion out of doors. In a moment the door of the salon -opened and Raymond appeared. - -"The devil take the man!" I muttered; "upon my word, he was born to be -always in my way!" - -Seeing me at Madame de Marsan's feet, he whipped his part out of his -pocket, and began to shout at the top of his lungs: - -"'Ah! malediction! that savage, piratical villain, Figaro! How can one -leave his home one moment, and not be sure that on returning----' -Madame, I have the honor of presenting my respects; I am punctual, you -see.--Good-evening, my dear Dorsan! Why on earth did you start off -yesterday afternoon without me? I would gladly have come with you. Well! -I know my lines already, you see. I have a superb memory! With the -prompter's help, I am all right." - -Madame de Marsan thanked Raymond for his promptitude and complimented -him upon his ease. Her agitation had disappeared; we went on with our -rehearsal, and she was engrossed by her part. My hopes were crushed -again! Infernal Raymond! - -The next day all the members of the troupe arrived; it was impossible to -find a moment for a tte--tte; we were rehearsing from morning till -night, and when _Fanchon_, in which Madame de Marsan did not appear, was -being rehearsed, she had so many orders to give about costumes and the -details of the fte, that I could not obtain the briefest interview with -her. Alas! but for Raymond I should have been happy, I am sure; the -auspicious moment had arrived; and he who would subdue a cruel fair must -not allow such moments to escape him; they may recur with an emotional -woman, but they are very rare with a coquette. - -Raymond was in the seventh heaven: he was immersed in business to his -ears; first of all, he had his two parts to learn, which was no small -thing for him; then, Madame de Marsan had given him the general -supervision of the scenery and the orchestra; moreover, as the young -woman who was to play Fanchon was her intimate friend, and as the -performance happened to come on her birthday, she requested him to -compose a scene referring to that coincidence, to be added to the -vaudeville which was to close the performance. Raymond sweated blood and -water to produce that little impromptu. In the morning, as soon as I was -awake, he came to tell me what he had done; he always had the beginning -of his couplets, but he could not succeed in completing one; and he -transferred that task to me, begging me to make use of him whenever I -wished to celebrate anyone's birthday. After breakfast he hurried to -the theatre, turned everything topsy-turvy, examined the scenery, and -regretted that he had not the necessary time to arrange some new -mechanism, because he would have liked to put a transformation scene in -his little contribution; but, in default of demons--for Madame de Marsan -would not hear of them, for fear of fire--and of nymphs,--an article not -to be found in the neighborhood,--Raymond confined his efforts to having -a wreath descend upon Fanchon's head; and he urged the gardener, who had -charge of the machinery, to be sure to make a superb one, and to suspend -it by a cord from one of the roof timbers on the day of the performance. -Then my neighbor proposed to introduce two little Cupids, who, instead -of appearing from a cloud, were to come up from the prompter's -box--which was likely to produce more effect--and to present bouquets to -all the actors and actresses on the stage. - -The great day drew near; the rehearsals proceeded with great zeal and -activity; everyone considered that his honor was at stake, and -determined to outdo the others. How much occupation an amateur -theatrical performance affords! what anxiety and toil! what a world of -details! how much trouble people take! But, on the other hand, what joy -to win applause! and one is certain of that in advance, even though one -acts wretchedly. We all knew our parts, except Raymond, who stumbled -through Bartholo's lines and could not remember a single one of -Lattaignant's. The ladies scolded him, but his reply was always the -same: - -"With the prompter's help, you'll see how glibly I'll rattle it off." - -On the night before the performance we were to have a dress rehearsal on -the stage, with all the lights. Raymond had not been seen since -morning; at six o'clock, the hour appointed for the rehearsal, he had -not come. We waited in vain; they searched the whole house, the garden, -the wood; everybody was engaged in the search; the servants were sent -around the neighborhood, with orders to bring Monsieur Raymond back, -dead or alive. We could not begin without him; we were in despair, at -our wits' end; for there was no one to take his place. How could anyone -learn two long parts between night and morning? The ladies were on the -point of weeping with indignation, when, about eight o'clock, Raymond at -last appeared, drenched with perspiration, covered with dust, and -leading by the hand two chubby, rosy-cheeked little boys, five or six -years old, smeared with dirt and dressed in dirty, mud-stained blouses. - -"Where have you been?" was the general cry; the ladies were for -beginning operations by beating him. - -"That's right!" said Raymond; "scold me savagely, when I have nearly -killed myself finding two Cupids for you! I have been scouring the -neighborhood ever since morning; I am sure that I have travelled a good -ten leagues! But nothing but sulky faces, squint eyes, flat noses -everywhere! At last I found what I wanted at Saint-Denis; but see how -fresh and plump they are! they'll make two first-class Cupids." - -The aspect of the two little fellows, for whom Raymond had bought candy -to bribe them, and who were smeared with it to the ears, soon allayed -the wrath of the company. - -"What about their mother?" asked Madame de Marsan. - -"She's a dairywoman at Saint-Denis. She's overjoyed to have her children -play two little Cupids, and she's coming to see them to-morrow; I -promised her a place behind the rear curtain. Now, just have these -little rascals cleaned up a bit, and you'll see how pretty they are!" - -The young lady who was to play Fanchon did not understand why Cupids -were needed, not knowing that a little surprise was being prepared for -her. Madame de Marsan tried to repair Raymond's indiscretion. The -rehearsal went on and lasted until one in the morning, when, being -thoroughly exhausted, we all went to bed, longing ardently for the -morrow; and Raymond intrusted his two Cupids to the housekeeper, with -instructions to cleanse them and make them get up early, so that he -would have time to teach them what they had to do. - - - - -XXV - -ALMAVIVA AND ROSINE.--A SCENE ADDED TO _LE BARBIER DE SVILLE_ - - -The great day arrived. The ladies rose early; the thought of their -costumes had kept them awake. The men, who are sometimes as coquettish -as the ladies, were all absorbed by their costumes or their rles. I was -less engrossed by the great affair of the evening, because my passion -for Madame de Marsan, intensified by the obstacles it had encountered, -occupied my thoughts quite as much as the play. But the busiest of all -was Raymond. He was out of bed at daybreak. He sought out the two little -peasants, and tried to make them move gracefully, and to teach them a -little stage business, while he told them what they would have to do in -the evening. The children stared at him, jumped into the air when he -told them to dance, fell on the ground when he tried to make them stand -on one leg, and began to cry when he told them to smile. My neighbor -took them to the gardener, now transformed into a scene shifter, and -repeated the lesson to him. The gardener was a dull-witted lout, who -knew nothing at all, but who chose to pretend to understand instantly -whatever was said to him. - -"Do you know what you have to do to-night, my friend?" Raymond asked -him. - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"First, the wreath of flowers----" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Which you are to lower on Fanchon's head." - -"Fanchon's--yes, monsieur." - -"You are to fasten it to a cord hanging from the beam; do you know -whether there is one?" - -"Oh! yes, monsieur; there was one for that gentleman with the syringes -they acted the last time, that was so funny! Monsieur Pourceau--Pourceau--the -man who wouldn't take physic before people, you know." - -"Just so, my man, just so.--Well, when the wreath is all fixed, you must -make a dozen fresh, pretty bouquets, and give them to these children, -who will be dressed as Cupids." - -"Say! I know 'em; they're Madeleine's boys." - -"Pay attention to what I say." - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"When they have the bouquets, you'll take them to the prompter's box." - -"Yes, monsieur, to the box, I understand." - -"And they are to go out on the stage when I clap twice with my hands." - -"Yes, monsieur, with your hands." - -"Don't forget anything, my friend." - -"No, monsieur. Oh! you needn't be afraid; I'm used to play-acting here!" - -Raymond next betook himself, with the two children, to the costume room. -He found no knit flesh-colored tights, because such costumes are rarely -used by amateurs. He was obliged to be content with nankeen trousers, -over which they were to wear their little white tunics: these, with the -girdle, the band, the bow, and the quiver, should make the illusion -complete. After urging the wig-maker, who had come from Montmorency for -the occasion, to outdo himself in dressing the Cupids' locks, Raymond -forgot everything but his rles, and set about learning them for the -evening. A numerous and select party of guests had arrived from Paris, -and they strolled about the house and gardens. Madame de Marsan, despite -the necessary preparations for the play, did the honors of her house -with no less grace than good breeding. Monsieur de Marsan did not arrive -until a few moments before dinner on the day of the fte. He was -detained in Paris by business on the Bourse; he knew that his wife was -spending a lot of money, and he had to devote his attention to making an -equal amount in order to maintain the equilibrium. In the evening, many -of the people of the neighborhood, carefully selected from the most -eligible, who had received invitations for the performance, were on hand -promptly. Thus the auditorium was certain to be entirely filled, for the -last rows of chairs were thrown open to some of the villagers. It is -much more agreeable to act before a large audience; empty benches are -never flattering to the actor, even at an amateur performance. - -The hour to begin had arrived. Our little hall was full. Raymond kept -looking through the hole in the curtain, to see where the ladies were -sitting whom he proposed to ogle. - -"Time to begin!"--Such was the cry of all who were ready; but everybody -was not ready, and it seemed as if Raymond would never finish dressing. -After each garment that he put on, he ran to look through the hole, with -his jar of rouge in one hand and his rle in the other. - -"Hurry! hurry!" we shouted at him from all sides, and pushed him back -toward his dressing room; then someone ran to Madame de Marsan's room, -to ask if Rosine was ready. The four amateurs who formed the orchestra -had twice played through the overture to _Richard Coeur de Lion_, -which served as overture to _Le Barbier_. They were about to begin it a -third time, because they had no other music with them; the audience -began to lose patience and some faint murmurs were heard. But at last we -were ready, and Raymond, who was the machinist, raised the curtain. - -I knew my lines very well, and my feeling for Madame de Marsan, who -looked prettier than ever in the costume of Rosine, imparted to my -acting the warmth and genuineness which befit the rle of a lover like -Almaviva. The young man who played Figaro was spirited, good-looking, -and daring. We played with great _verve_, our scenes went off -excellently, and the audience was delighted. At the moment when Bartholo -was to appear at the window with Rosine, Raymond, trying to raise the -blind, jerked it so violently that it was detached and fell on the lamps -which did duty as footlights; luckily, the sight of Madame de Marsan, -who was delicious in her Spanish costume, covered Raymond's -awkwardness. The first act went without a hitch. In the second, Raymond, -whose memory was fatigued already, could not say a word without the -prompter, and he stood in front of his box all the time, with his eyes -fixed upon it and his ears strained to hear. Often the prompter had to -repeat the words three times, Raymond meanwhile abusing him when he did -not prompt, and telling him to be quiet when he did prompt him in some -speech that he thought he knew. Thus he made of Bartholo a veritable -Cassandra; but such an audience as ours could not fail to be indulgent; -moreover, all the other rles were well done; we entered into the spirit -of our parts and filled the stage with animation. We were wildly -applauded; and Raymond assumed his share of the applause, although he -confused us terribly when he was on the stage with us. - -The third act began with Raymond on the stage. He walked forward and -took his stand in front of the prompter's box. - -"'What temper! what temper! [_To the prompter_: Why don't you prompt -me?] She seemed appeased! Will someone tell me [Don't prompt me.]--will -someone tell me who in the devil put it into her head to--to [Prompt me, -will you?]--to refuse [What's that? I don't hear you.]--to refuse to -take lessons from Don Basile. [Don't prompt me!] She knows that he is -interfering about my marriage. Do everything in the world--do--do--[What? -what do I say next? What the devil! you don't know how to prompt at the -right time!]'" - -The audience concluded to laugh at our Bartholo; whereat Raymond rubbed -his hands with a satisfied air, and, whenever he returned to the wings, -exclaimed: - -"How pleased they are! how it amuses them! No audience at the Franais -ever laughed so much!" - -The play came to an end at last, in spite of Raymond, who did all that -he could to prevent it; but Rosine's grace, Figaro's hilarity, and, -lastly,--for one must do one's self justice,--the warmth, the passion, -the ardor which gave life to my performance of Almaviva made the -illusion complete; I obtained a brilliant triumph, and I read in Madame -de Marsan's eyes the pleasure that my success afforded her. - -_Le Barbier_ at an end, the performance of _Fanchon_ was hurried -forward. All of the cast of the first play, with the exception of Madame -de Marsan and myself, were to appear in the second. We two had plenty of -time to change our costumes. All the dressing rooms opened on the -garden; those of the ladies were separated from ours only by an avenue -of lindens. Having resumed my civilian costume, I went out into the -garden for a breath of air. The second play had begun long before, and -everybody was on the stage or among the spectators. The solitude and -tranquillity of the garden were in refreshing contrast to the clamor not -far away. I was not sorry to be able to saunter there for a moment; but -as I crossed the avenue of lindens, I saw a lady come from one of the -dressing rooms opposite. I stopped; it was Madame de Marsan; it was my -Rosine. She recognized me and came toward me. - -"Where is Monsieur le Comte Almaviva going, pray?" - -"I came out to enjoy this cool shade a moment; but I missed something: -Almaviva cannot be happy without Rosine." - -"Rosine is not at all sure that she ought to go with you." - -"What! after consenting to allow yourself to be abducted?" - -"In truth, I should play the cruel now with a bad grace; but remember -that you swore to be true to me! to love me always, to love none but -me!" - -"Oh! I swear it again! I have no other desire than to repeat it every -moment!" - -"But where are you taking me? we seem to be going a long way. Why do you -take the darkest paths? Why are we going in under these trees? It is too -dark here!" - -"Dear Rosine, what can you fear, with me?" - -"Dear Lindor, I am ill at ease." - -"Did you not intrust yourself unreservedly to me?" - -"Ah! I fear that I was not wise. What are you doing? Kissing me like -this! Oh! that isn't in the play." - -"Do we refuse a kiss to the lover who is to be our husband?" - -"Stop--Lindor--Dorsan---- Oh! this scene----" - -"Dear Rosine, what is it but the natural sequel? ought it not to crown -our love?" - -Madame de Marsan tried in vain to resist; it was too late; I had entered -too completely into the spirit of my rle, and she had identified -herself with hers. We added to _Le Barbier de Sville_ the scene which -the audience does not see, but which it may well divine after the union -of Almaviva and Rosine. For some time the thicket had witnessed that -charming scene, half lighted by the moon. The fervor with which we -played our parts caused us to forget the world and the fte. I was -determined that Almaviva should obtain as great a triumph in the thicket -as on the stage, and Rosine was so prompt in response that I could not -lag behind. We had not begun to think of the dnouement, when it was -hastened by an unforeseen incident; but, to explain it, we must return -to the theatre. - -_Fanchon_ was acted indifferently well; many of the actors, not knowing -their parts, had skipped several scenes; Raymond had done the same with -his lines; so that the play was soon done. Neither Madame de Marsan's -absence nor mine was noticed; the actors supposed that we were in the -audience, the spectators, that we were behind the scenes. - -The vaudeville being finished, Raymond arranged his little scene in -honor of the lady who had played Fanchon, and whose birthday it was. -Everyone sang his or her couplet, and Raymond called for Madame de -Marsan and myself to sing ours. As he did not find us, and as the -dnouement was at hand, he ran into the wings and seized the cord to -which was attached the surprise that was to descend upon Fanchon's head. -He pulled it slightly, and the weight that he felt above set his mind at -rest, convincing him that the gardener had not forgotten to attach the -wreath. - -The moment had come; the orchestra played - - "What grace, what majesty!" - -That was the signal for the wreath to descend. Raymond let the cord go; -a sudden murmur ran through the hall, then bursts of laughter arose on -all sides. - -"Stop! stop!" someone called from the stage. Raymond put his head out -from the wings to witness the tableau, and saw that, instead of a wreath -of flowers, he had lowered a syringe on Fanchon's head. - -The confusion was at its height; the hall rang with laughter, while on -the stage wrath at Raymond's blundering folly was still predominant. The -young lady who had played Fanchon was obliged to push the syringe away -from her head. Raymond dropped the cord and ran out on the stage, -crying: - -"It wasn't my fault; it's Pourceaugnac's syringe--and that idiot of a -gardener forgot to take it off! It should have been a wreath. But we'll -make up for this.--Forward, Cupids!" - -He gave the signal, the orchestra played Zphire's air from _Psyche_, -and everybody waited impatiently for what was coming. Again Raymond -clapped his hands. - -"Come on, Cupids!" he cried; "come out, I say!" - -But nothing came out of the prompter's box. The audience, tired of -waiting to no purpose, prepared to leave the hall, and the actors to -vacate the stage. In vain did Raymond try to detain them, crying: - -"They're coming! they'll appear in a minute! they must be putting on the -bands!" - -Nobody listened to him. In his rage he determined to find his Cupids, at -all events; he jumped down into the prompter's box, looked under the -stage and in every corner of the building, but he did not succeed in -finding them. - -The two little fellows were dressed and ready two hours before it was -time for them to appear. The gardener, bewildered by all the orders he -had received, had entirely forgotten the wreath; but he had made some -bouquets, which he gave to the children, then led them to the prompter's -box and said: - -"Stay here; you're to go on the stage when you're called." - -The children waited quietly for half an hour; but they were tired by -that time; they thought that they had been forgotten; and as they could -enjoy themselves much more in the garden than under the stage, they -left their bouquets there and went outside to play. In running about -they approached the house, and saw on the ground floor, in a -well-lighted room, a sideboard covered with innumerable delicacies, the -bare sight of which made them open their mouths and lick their chops. -They stopped, sighed, nudged each other, divined each other's thought, -and looked behind them in obedience to the natural instinct of the man -who is about to do wrong. There was no one in sight; all the servants -had deserted the house for the play. - -"Oh! see the nice things, brother!" said the smaller of the two; "we -never saw anything like 'em!" - -"Oh! Fanfan, mustn't that be sweet?" - -"Say, Jean; just think--if we could eat some of it!" - -"Look at them cakes!" - -"There's no one there; let's climb in! Come on!" - -They easily climbed in the ground-floor window; they ran to the -sideboard, stuffed their mouths full, made aprons of their tunics, and -filled them with fruit, meats, and cakes; lapped the cream that they -could not carry away; dug their fingers into jars of preserves, and took -refuge finally in the attic, to eat at their ease what they had filched. - -While the little peasants were regaling themselves, Raymond was scouring -the whole estate to find his Cupids. As he came out of the theatre, -after a vain search, he met Monsieur de Marsan, who was looking for his -wife, the company being surprised at her continued absence. - -"Have you found them?" inquired Raymond. - -"I don't know where she is; people are asking for her; ordinarily, I am -not called upon to interfere in anything." - -"Whom are you talking about?" - -"My wife, who is not here to do the honors of the fte." - -"Parbleu! Madame de Marsan can't be lost; she'll turn up; but my two -Cupids--I am more anxious about them; for I must give them back to their -mother, who is not Venus; and she'll break one of her little pitchers -over my head if her brats are not found. Let us search the gardens -together; the little rascals must be somewhere here." - -Monsieur de Marsan followed Raymond, hoping to find his wife rather than -the two little fugitives. They walked through part of the garden, and -Monsieur de Marsan proposed to return to his guests, feeling sure that -his wife must be with them; but Raymond detained him, telling him that -he, Marsan, was responsible for the Cupids, as they were lost on his -premises. They drew near the swing, which was close to the clump of -trees where I was playing my scene with Madame de Marsan. - -"They are over in this direction," said Raymond; "I hear the swing -moving; I was sure that my little blackguards were amusing themselves." - -They reached the swing, but saw nothing. - -"There's no one here, you see," said Monsieur de Marsan. - -"It's strange," said Raymond; "I still hear the same noise. Why--it's in -this direction--in the thicket! What the devil are they doing there?" - -Monsieur de Marsan went forward; Raymond followed him. The moon at that -moment was much too bright! we were petrified. - -"It's Almaviva and Rosine!" said Raymond, jumping back. Monsieur de -Marsan alone retained his presence of mind. - -"Madame," he said, calmly addressing his wife, "your guests are asking -for you; you are needed for the festivities; you must try to arrange -your business and your pleasures so that they will not interfere with -each other." - -With that, he coolly turned on his heel and returned to the house. -Madame de Marsan had fainted; Raymond stood like a statue. I rushed from -the thicket, pushing him roughly aside, in an instant was at the -courtyard, then on the Paris road, and reached the capital at two in the -morning. - - - - -XXVI - -WHERE WILL IT END? - - -After the adventure of the thicket, it was impossible for me to go again -to Madame de Marsan's house, or to see her in public. So that we were -obliged to cover our liaison with a veil of mystery. With many women -that fact would have simply added to the charm; but I was afraid that -with Madame de Marsan, who loved to be surrounded by adorers and by -admiring homage, the impossibility of gratifying her vanity by her -conquest of me would speedily abate her love. If we no longer met at her -house, it was solely out of respect for the proprieties; for, as Raymond -had witnessed the catastrophe, I had no doubt that it was known to -everybody. - -What surprised me most was that I had not seen him since that memorable -evening: a week had passed, and I had not even met him on the stairs; -doubtless he dreaded my wrath. He evidently kept out of sight when he -heard me coming; for as we lived on the same landing and both went in -and out several times during the day, we did not usually pass two days -without meeting. - -Madame de Marsan and I were in regular correspondence; we made -appointments, we went into the country together, and sat in closed boxes -at the theatre. I enjoyed her society more, seeing her only _en -tte--tte_. There was no longer between us that swarm of young dandies -who were constantly fluttering about her, and whose presence was far -from agreeable to me; when we were alone, she could not play the -coquette so successfully and amuse herself by tormenting me. So that, -for my part, I was not at all sorry that we met as we did, but I was -very much afraid that it was not the same with her. Already our -correspondence was beginning to drag, our assignations were becoming -less frequent; she constantly found something to prevent her meeting me: -a reception, a ball, some festivity which she could not possibly avoid -attending. I had no faith in her excuses, because I knew that her -husband left her entirely at liberty to do as she chose. If she refused -to keep an appointment with me, it was because she preferred to create a -sensation at a ball or a concert; in a word, to make conquests, to -surround herself with admirers and attentions, rather than to be alone -with me. The conclusion to be drawn from that state of affairs was very -simple: Madame de Marsan did not love me, had never loved me. She had -smiled upon me solely from caprice; had given me hopes from coquetry; -had yielded by chance; and would leave me because she was bored. - -One morning, opening my door suddenly, I saw Raymond going downstairs -and caught him by his coat tail. - -"Great heaven! I thought you were dead, Monsieur Raymond!" said I. - -"Good-morning, my dear neighbor! It's a fact--I haven't seen you since -the _Barbier de Sville_." - -"That is true; and I counted upon you to tell me how the festivities -came to an end." - -"Oh! you must have heard all about it from----" - -"From whom?" - -"You know whom I mean. To tell the truth, I was afraid you were angry -with me." - -"Why so?" - -"Because I took her husband to the thicket." - -"Aha! so it was you who brought him there, was it?" - -"That is to say, it was I and it wasn't. He was looking for his wife, -and I was looking for the Cupids, who were giving themselves indigestion -in the attic; the little rascals nearly burst, and their mother declared -it was my fault and wanted to tear my eyes out! I was in hard luck at -that party!--But to return to your adventure--if you had let me into the -secret of your liaison with Madame de Marsan, it wouldn't have happened; -on the contrary, I would have induced the husband to abandon the idea of -looking for his wife! But there, as I am always saying to you, you won't -ever tell me anything! your reticence leads to surprises! in fact, you -are responsible for my having to give up going to Monsieur de Marsan's." - -"Why so?" - -"Why so! it's easy enough to see: the wife, knowing what--what I saw, -receives me very coldly; and the husband's another oddity. I wished to -try to arrange matters; it was no easy task, but still, as it was -night, and moonlight--and then, with a shrewd wit one can make anything -look all right." - -"Well?" - -"Well, when you had gone, I tried first to help Madame de Marsan, who -had fainted, as I thought; but the moment I put my salts to her nose, -she got up without help, threw the salts into my face, and ran off and -locked herself in her room. When I saw that, I said to myself: 'I must -go to the husband and throw dust in his eyes.'--I went to the salon, and -motioned to Monsieur de Marsan to step out to speak to me; at first he -was unwilling to leave the cart table, but he finally made up his mind -to it. I led him into a corner and said: 'Monsieur, you mustn't believe -all you see, especially by moonlight, because the moon changes the -aspect of things, and you may be misled. The scene they were rehearsing -in the thicket was of my invention, and was to be played after the -_Barbier_: it was a love scene, and in love scenes the actors sit very -near together, on each other's knees sometimes, take hold of hands, -embrace--in fact, the more things they do, the more complete the -illusion.'--That was rather clever, eh?" - -"Very clever; and what reply did Monsieur de Marsan make?" - -"He hardly let me finish; then he said in a very sharp tone: 'Be good -enough not to weary me with any more of your nonsense, and never to open -your mouth again on that subject!'--And, with that, he turned on his -heel. Faith! I confess that I call that very ill-mannered! I try to give -a husband the matrimonial prism, and he receives me like a dog in a game -of tenpins! you must agree that it was not very pleasant. To cap the -climax, a moment later up comes the dairywoman with her two brats, who -were purple in the face; they had just been found in an attic; and the -impudent peasant began to abuse me, and promised me that, if they burst, -her husband would summon me before the magistrate! As if it was my -fault! Why, I told them to act the part of Cupid, not to stuff -themselves with food!--Faith! when it came to that, I took my hat, and -taking advantage of Figaro's cabriolet--he was driving back to Paris--I -turned my back on the fte, vowing that I would never again compose -anacreontic scenes for peasants." - -My neighbor left me when he had finished his story. Despite the -assurance that I had given him that I harbored no resentment against him -on account of that incident, he seemed to me to retain in my presence a -constrained, embarrassed air which was not usual with him. He had left -me, whereas ordinarily I had hard work to get rid of him. I sought in -vain a reason for this behavior, which was not natural in Raymond. -However, it mattered little to me what maggot he had in his brain; it -surprised me more than it interested me. - -There was something that surprised and troubled me much more: for a long -time I had received no bouquets from Nicette. At first, I thought that -her mother's death might have kept her busy for some days; but that had -taken place more than six weeks before, and still I found nothing at my -door! I had become so accustomed to those tokens of remembrance, that -every evening, when I went home, I hastily put my hand to the doorknob; -but I found nothing, and I said to myself sadly: - -"She too has forgotten me! I might reproach her, but I do not want her -to do from a sense of duty what I had thought was a pleasure to her." - -It was a long time since I had seen her; I woke too late in the morning; -in the evening, I was either with Madame de Marsan, or some friend would -drag me away to one of the parties which began to be more numerous with -the approach of winter. Besides, I knew how dangerous it was to go to -see her in the evening!--Meanwhile, my meetings with Madame de Marsan -were daily becoming less frequent and more depressing; she was simply -waiting for an excuse to break with me altogether; and I, from a spirit -of contradiction, refused to furnish her with one. - -For several days we had not met; but we had arranged to dine together on -a certain day; it was almost like granting me a favor. We dined at the -Cadran-Bleu; the sight of the Mridien, just opposite, reminded me of -the much livelier repast of which I had partaken with Mademoiselle -Agathe; and I said to myself that the grisette, who deceives one openly, -is a hundred times preferable to the _petite-matresse_ who clings to us -when she does not love us. The dinner was a gloomy affair, despite my -efforts to prolong it; at seven o'clock we had nothing more to say to -each other. I suggested the theatre, but there was no play that -attracted her; it was not the season for walking, and I did not know -what to suggest, or how to amuse her. At last she began to complain of -pain in the stomach and head, of the vapors, in short. She decided to go -home and to bed early, and I applauded the idea, which was a great -relief to us both. We left the restaurant; I was going to take her home -in a cab, as usual, but she preferred to go on foot, thinking that the -walk in the fresh air would do her good. It was dark, and we had no fear -of unpleasant meetings. We walked along like a husband and wife of -twenty years' standing, exchanging a word every five minutes. We -reached Rue Saint-Honor and should soon pass Nicette's little shop; but -it would surely be closed, and I was very glad of it. As we drew near I -saw that the shop was still open; the shrubs had not been taken inside. -It was too late to turn back. Indeed, why should I turn back? Was I not -at liberty to give my arm to whomever I chose? Yes; but still I hoped -that she would not see me. - -We reached the shop; Nicette was at her door; she saw me, and by some -inexplicable whim Madame de Marsan chose to stop to examine her flowers. - -"Here's a lovely orange tree," she said; "for a long time I have wanted -one in my boudoir; I like this one very much; don't you think it -pretty?" - -"Yes, madame, very pretty." - -I was embarrassed; I kept my eyes on the ground, avoiding Nicette's. - -"I am afraid it's too large, though," continued Madame de Marsan. "Have -you any others, my girl?--Well! why don't you answer?" - -Nicette did not hear her; she had her eyes fixed on me, and doubtless -her expression was very eloquent, for Madame de Marsan, greatly -surprised, scrutinized her closely; her pretty face, her confusion, my -emotion, my embarrassed manner, aroused in Madame de Marsan's mind -suspicions, which undoubtedly went beyond the truth. Women divine very -swiftly, and their imagination travels fast. Madame de Marsan no longer -loved me, but she had the curiosity which no woman ever loses on that -subject, and, in pure deviltry, she pretended to be very fond of me. - -She entered the shop, leaning nonchalantly on my arm; she bestowed an -amorous glance on me and addressed me in the familiar second person, -which she had not done twenty times at the very outset of our liaison. - -"What do you think of these trees, my dear fellow? tell me which you -like, my dear Dorsan; I want to choose the one you like best." - -Vexation and anger were suffocating me; I was hardly able to stammer a -few disjointed words. I glanced at Nicette; I saw her turn pale and -stagger; her eyes filled with tears; they seemed to say to me: - -"She loves you! do you love her?" - -Madame de Marsan saw it all; she smiled maliciously and watched Nicette -closely. - -"What's the matter with you, child?" she asked, in a contemptuous tone; -"you seem very much excited." - -"Nothing, madame, nothing's the matter," the poor girl replied, in a -trembling voice, looking at Madame de Marsan and at me in turn. - -"What's the price of this orange tree?" - -"It's--it's--whatever you choose to give, madame; I don't care." - -"What's that? you don't care? That's a strange answer!--What do you -think, my dear Dorsan? Come, answer; I don't know what's the matter with -you to-night, really!" - -"When you are ready, madame, we will go." - -"Ah! I see, monsieur; you have reasons for not wanting to stay in this -place with me; my presence embarrasses you--and seems to grieve -mademoiselle! Ha! ha! this is too good! to grieve this poor child!--that -would be cruel beyond words! Come, monsieur, when you choose. But, I beg -you, don't leave her in despair.--Adieu, my girl!" - -She left the shop at last, and I followed her after glancing at Nicette. -But she was crying and did not look at me. - -When we were in the street, Madame de Marsan laughed as if she would -die, and joked me about my amours and about the innocent flower girl. I -made no reply, although I might have made some very mortifying remarks; -we must be indulgent to the woman who has been weak for our sake. I left -her at her door. I was in great haste to see Nicette again; I was -determined now to tell her all my thoughts, all my sentiments; I -proposed to conceal from her no longer the genuine passion which she had -inspired, and which I had fought against to no purpose. She shared it; I -could not doubt that. We would be happy together; yes, I would abandon -myself thenceforth to the dictates of my heart, which told me that I -must possess Nicette. The friendship between us was simply a pretext to -conceal our love; we could not misunderstand each other! Why those -fruitless efforts to overcome the sentiment that drew us toward each -other? Why should cold prudence deprive us of happiness? Is love a -crime, pray? and can that which makes us so happy make us guilty? - -I ran, I flew--at last I stood before her shop; it was closed, and I -could see no light within. I knocked: there was no reply. Was she -asleep? No, no; I was sure that she would not be able to sleep. I -knocked again--no reply! Where could she be? I passed an hour in front -of her shop. I knocked again, but to no purpose. I was convinced that -she was inside, but that she was determined not to admit me, that she -was weeping and did not wish me to see her tears. Perhaps she feared -that I would reproach her for her conduct before Madame de Marsan. Dear -Nicette! Far be it from me to reprove your love. - -"I will see her to-morrow," I thought; "I will console her, and I shall -easily triumph over the resolutions of the night! Since it must be, I -will wait till to-morrow." - - - - -XXVII - -MY STAR PURSUES ME - - -I did not sleep; my mind was too disturbed, my heart too agitated for me -to obtain any rest. All night long I formed plans, prudent, extravagant, -and delicious. Nicette was always included in those charming visions of -the future, which my imagination conceived so readily; I transformed her -into a shepherdess, a great lady, a _demoiselle_; she and I were -together in a palace, in a village, in a desert; but, wherever we were, -we were happy. Ah! how sweet it is to dream waking dreams when one loves -and believes one's self to be loved in return! - -I rose at daybreak; I had twenty schemes in my head, and, as usual, I -could not decide upon any one. First of all, I must see Nicette; that -was the most important thing. My toilet was soon completed; I was sure -that I always looked well to her. - -I left my room; everybody was still asleep in the house, unless there -was somebody who was very much in love. Madame Dupont, who had ceased to -be amorous, kept me waiting a century before she pulled the cord of the -porte cochre; at last she heard me knocking and shouting at her window, -and I was free. - -In less than five minutes I was in front of the shop; it was still -closed. I was surprised; Nicette was usually such an early bird. - -Should I wait? should I knock? I stood hesitating in the street, when a -messenger passed. It was the same one I had questioned some time before; -he recognized me, touched his hat as he passed, and took his seat some -twenty yards away. I walked toward him, with no definite idea what I was -going to do. The messenger, who was pleased with my conduct on the -former occasion, hastened to offer me his services. - -"I have nothing for you to do, my friend," I said, in a decidedly dismal -tone, mechanically putting a five-franc piece in his hand. - -He stared at me in amazement, and waited for me to speak before he -ventured to put the coin in his pocket. I looked toward Nicette's shop -and pointed at it. - -"That flower girl is rather late about opening, it seems to me," I said. - -"Oh! it's early yet; but still, she's been a bit lazylike for some time. -Well, well! it isn't surprising!" - -"Why so?" - -"When a woman gets love into her head!" - -"How do you know? Who told you she was in love?" - -"Oh! a man don't have to be very sharp to see that kind of thing! you -see, I've been on this square twenty year, so I ought to know pretty -well what's going on in the quarter." - -"What do you know about this girl? What have you seen? Answer, and keep -nothing back. Here, take this." - -I felt in my pocket again and put more silver in the messenger's hand, -whereat his amazement redoubled and he looked into my face for symptoms -of insanity. - -"You told me that this girl was virtuous and honest, and that she did -not speak to anybody, because she preferred not to." - -"That's true, monsieur, that's true. She's honest enough still; but when -a girl's young, she may take a liking for someone, and----" - -"Explain yourself more clearly! What makes you think that?" - -"Pardi, monsieur! because I see the fellow come to see her." - -So Nicette had deceived me! Nicette did not love me! No, I could not -believe it. I determined to question the man further. I leaned against -the post that adjoined his stone bench; I needed support, for I trembled -at the thought of finding my misery confirmed. - -"You say that you see someone come to her shop?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Since when?" - -"Why, it was about three weeks ago that the man came prowling around -here; at first he came in the morning, to buy flowers; then he came at -night, just at dusk, and talked a little; then he stayed longer; and -it's got so now that he comes almost every night and talks an hour or -two with the pretty little flower girl. But I think everything's all -straight as yet; the shop door's always open, and unless they meet -somewhere else, which is possible enough, for women are sly, and it -ain't safe to trust to virtuous airs!----" - -"What does he look like?" - -"Well, he ain't exactly a young man, perhaps about forty years old; nor -he ain't very handsome, either; but as to his get-up, he's one of your -sort, a man who looks as if he was somebody! And you can see that the -little flower girl, who put on airs with us poor folks, might have been -flattered to make the conquest of a swell; that's probably what caught -her!" - -"And he comes every night?" - -"Yes, monsieur, pretty near; he don't hardly ever miss a night now." - -"That's enough." - -I strode away from the messenger; the poor fellow had unsuspectingly -torn my heart; at the very moment that I proposed to abandon myself -without reserve to my love for Nicette; to turn my back on society of -which I was weary, so that I might live with her and for her--at that -moment, I lost her thus! She loved another, and I believed myself to be -sure of her love! With that sweet delusion vanished the blissful future -of my waking dreams that morning. - -I was still in the street; I could not go away. At last the shop opened; -Nicette appeared; she was pale and downcast; but I had never seen her -when she was so pretty, I had never been so deeply in love with her. - -The little traitor--with that innocent air! Alas! had I the right to -complain? had she given me her troth? had I told her that I loved -her?--But was it necessary to tell her so? It seemed to me that we -understood each other so perfectly. We had both been deceived! - -Should I speak to her? Of what use was it now? what could I say to her -that would interest her? No; I would not see her or speak to her again; -I would forget her! - -I do not know how it happened; but, with the firm intention to avoid -her, I had walked toward her; and I found myself in front of her shop, -where I stopped, in spite of myself. - -She came to meet me with an air of constraint; her eyes were red, as if -she had wept much; what could be the cause of her distress? I did not -know what to say, and I stood mute in front of her; she too was -thoughtful.--And this was the interview in which the confidence and -unreserve of love were to reign supreme!--Poor mortals! our plans are -drawn on the sand. - -"I came last night," I said at last, in a tone which I strove to render -cold. - -"Last night--yes, I saw you, with--with that lady." - -"No, I mean a few minutes later--I came back and knocked." - -"I was not here." - -"I thought you never went out." - -"I went out last night." - -"You might have been at home, and have preferred not to let me in." - -"Why so, monsieur?" - -"Sometimes a person doesn't like to be disturbed when she has company." - -"Company!" - -"Yes, you understand me perfectly well; will you tell me again that you -have no visitors? For the last three weeks, hasn't a gentleman come to -see you--almost every evening?" - -She was embarrassed, she blushed. The messenger had not deceived me. - -"Well, mademoiselle, you don't answer. Is it the truth?" - -"Yes, monsieur, it's the truth." - -She admitted it! ah! I would have liked to have her deny it, I should -have been so happy to believe her!--Further doubt was impossible! there -was no more hope for me! I must go. I cast a last glance at her and -left the shop abruptly, for I did not choose to let her see the -suffering she caused me. She made a movement to detain me, then paused -in her doorway, contenting herself with looking after me. - -I resolved to think no more of her; she was no better than the rest!--In -truth, I was unlucky in love! I had never yet fallen in with a faithful -woman; they had all deceived me, betrayed me, played fast and loose with -me; but all their perfidies had caused me less pain than I suffered -because of Nicette's inconstancy! She saw that I loved her; all women -see that at a glance! She did everything to attract me! To think that -one so young should be so skilled in feigning love and sensibility and -gratitude! I could never again believe in anything or anybody. - -But, before forgetting her entirely, I proposed to see the man who had -replaced me in her heart, the man who had beguiled her, whom she loved! -What a lucky dog he was! At that moment I would have given all that I -possessed to be loved by Nicette. - -I had been told that he went to see her every evening; I would see him -that very day. There was a caf almost opposite the shop, where I could -wait unobserved, for I did not choose that the ungrateful girl should -witness all the torments of my feeble heart. - -I passed the day as best I could, and at five o'clock I betook myself to -Rue Saint-Honor. When I came in sight of her shop, I looked to see if -she was in the doorway. She was not there, and I slipped into the caf -unseen by her. I took my seat at a table that touched the window, and -ordered a half-bowl of punch, because it would naturally take me some -time to drink it. The waiter made me repeat my order; no doubt he took -me for an Englishman or a Fleming; but I cared little. I took up a -newspaper to keep myself in countenance, and kept my eyes fixed on the -flower shop. - -The time seems very long when one anticipates a pleasure, and still -longer when one is suffering and in dread. Would the darkness never -come! It was October, and should have been dark at six o'clock. Could it -be that it was not yet six? I looked at the clock; it marked only -half-past five; it was probably slow. I looked at my watch; twenty-five -minutes past five! It was cruel! I tried to drink the punch that was -before me, but it was impossible for me to swallow; I had not dined, but -I had been suffocating since the morning. - -At last the daylight faded. How was I to see what happened inside the -shop? how was I to distinguish that man's features? I hoped that she -would have a light. Sure enough, she came out with a light and began to -carry in her flowers. What sadness, what depression in her whole aspect! -She seated herself in the shop, beside the table, but she did not write! -She sighed and glanced often into the street. She was expecting -someone--and it was not I! - -It was almost seven o'clock, and no one had appeared. Suppose he should -not come? Should I be any happier then? Had she not agreed that morning -that I knew the truth? And had her blush, her embarrassment, told me -nothing? - -A man appeared and entered the shop; he sat down beside her. Great God! -did not my eyes deceive me? It was Raymond! Raymond with Nicette! -Raymond her lover! No, no; that was impossible! - -I rushed out of the caf to make sure of the truth. Someone ran after me -and stopped me. It was the waiter; I had forgotten to pay. I did not -understand very well what he said, but I put three francs in his hand -and he left me. The darkness allowed me to remain in the street unseen -by Nicette, while I could see her plainly. It was in very truth Raymond -whom I had seen, whom I saw. He was talking to her very earnestly, and -she listened with attention. I read in her eyes the interest she took in -what he was saying; she seemed more distressed than ever, she wept. He -took her hand and squeezed it tenderly! She did not withdraw it! That -lovely hand abandoned to Raymond! Ah! it was all over, I could no longer -doubt my misfortune. I felt that I must fly while I still had strength -to do so, and must never see her again! If only I could at the same time -banish her image from my thoughts! But the idea that she loved Raymond -crushed me, haunted me incessantly! So it was for Raymond's benefit that -I had preserved intact that flower which it would have been so sweet to -me to pluck! I respected her innocence, and this was my reward! - -If some respectable young man, of obscure station like herself, had won -her heart while seeking her hand, I might perhaps have consoled myself; -at all events, I should have been proud of having kept her pure and -worthy of his vows. But that such a fellow as Raymond should triumph -over Nicette! By what spell could he have fascinated her? He was neither -young nor handsome; he was a stupid, vain, chattering bore! If there was -anything lovable about him, I had never discovered it! And that was the -man she preferred to me! Oh! these women! - -I was no longer surprised at the embarrassment I had observed in -Raymond's manner when we last met. The traitor! so that was why he -avoided me. The fellow was my evil genius, in very truth! He knew that -I knew Nicette; he knew, perhaps, that I loved her. If I had listened to -nothing but my rage, I should have gone to him and insulted him. But how -can one obtain satisfaction from a dastard? and would his death make -Nicette what I formerly believed her to be? I would despise one and -forget the other; that was the only course for me to pursue. - -Once more I sought in repose oblivion of my suffering. What a different -night from the last! Last night, forming delightful plans based upon -love and constancy; to-night, cursing that sentiment and the woman who -had inspired it! If the weariness caused by such tempests of emotion -made me doze for a moment, my first thought, on reopening my eyes, was -of all my blasted hopes. - -When I was dressed, I could not resist the longing to talk with Raymond. -I promised myself to retain my self-control, to hold myself in check, -and to conceal the state of my heart. I hastened across the landing and -knocked and rang at his door. The concierge knew that he was at home; he -was not in the habit of rising early; still he did not open the door. I -rang again, and that time the bellrope remained in my hand. I heard -sounds at last; I recognized his heavy tread, and soon his nasal tones -greeted my ears. - -"Who is it making such a row at my door before seven o'clock? It's -outrageous to wake a man up like this!" - -"It's I, neighbor; it's I, Dorsan; I want to talk with you." - -For some seconds he did not reply, and when he did I knew by his voice -that he was not gratified by my call. - -"What! is it you, my dear neighbor?" - -"Yes, it's I." - -"What brings you here so early?" - -"You shall learn; but first let me in; I don't like to talk through a -door." - -"I beg your pardon--you see, I'm in my nightshirt." - -"Bah! what difference does it make to me, whether you're in your -nightshirt, or naked, or fully dressed? I have no desire to examine your -person. Open the door! then you can go back to bed; that won't interfere -with my talking to you." - -"You see, I passed most of the night writing birthday rhymes; and I am -still sleepy." - -"Oh! morbleu! Monsieur Raymond, open the door, or I'll break it down!" - -The tone in which I uttered the last words indicated a purpose to carry -out my threat. He did not wait for me to repeat it, but opened the door, -and, running back through his little reception room, jumped into bed, -where he wrapped himself up in the bedclothes, leaving nothing exposed -but his nose and his great eyes, which he turned from side to side with -an air of uneasiness, not venturing to look at me. I followed; the first -thing I saw on entering his bedroom was a dozen or more bunches of -orange blossoms, like those Nicette used to leave at my door; they were -symmetrically arranged on my neighbor's dressing table. That sight tore -my heart, but I had promised myself to be philosophical, so I sat down -beside Raymond's bed and tried to speak very calmly. - -"How are you this morning, Monsieur Raymond?" - -He gazed at me in amazement. - -"Was it to inquire about my health that you broke my bellrope and -threatened to break down my door?" - -"Oh! you must know that that was a joke! I had a question I wanted to -ask you.--You have some very pretty bouquets there; it seems that you -too are fond of orange blossoms?" - -"Yes, yes; I like their odor very much; it's good for the nerves, and I -am very nervous, you know." - -"There's a bond of sympathy between us, for these bouquets bear a -surprising resemblance to those that adorn my bedroom--and for which you -once expressed your admiration." - -"Yes, that's true; indeed, I remember now that that was what gave me the -idea of having some myself." - -"And are your flower dealer and mine the same?" - -He did not know what to say, and his head disappeared for a moment under -the bedclothes. - -"Well, neighbor?" - -"Oh! I haven't any regular flower dealer; I go sometimes to one, -sometimes to another." - -"Come, come, Monsieur Raymond, why fence with me; is this the confidence -of which you claim to set me an example? Are you afraid of making me -angry? Don't be afraid; I ceased to think about little Nicette a long -while ago." - -At that, he took his whole head out from beneath the bedclothes, and -looked at me with a surprised and pleased expression. - -"What! do you mean it? you have ceased to think about the little flower -girl?" - -"I never thought about her!" - -"Well! do you know, I almost suspected as much! Besides, we have Madame -de Marsan, who must occupy a good deal of our attention!" - -"Never mind Madame de Marsan; tell me about your intrigue with Nicette." - -"Oh! it isn't a long story! I confess that I am madly in love with her! -You know how pretty she is!" - -"A saucy face!" - -"The deuce! saucy! you call her saucy! you are hard to please." - -"Well?" - -"I go to make love to her almost every night. At first she was a little -inclined to be wild; but I was so skilful at wheedling her, that now she -can't get along without me, and I am sure that she adores me." - -"Has she told you so?" - -"Almost; besides, those things don't need to be told; they can be seen. -I know women so well!" - -"You are more fortunate than I. So you have triumphed?" - -"Not altogether as yet; but it won't be long, I am getting ahead very -fast. Look you, with women, just be assiduous, persistent, and -agreeable, and you can be sure of victory! Oh! I'm a crafty dog, I am, a -finished rou! A man must be that, to please the women. Sentiment, -sighs, tender words, those were all right once; nowadays, at the first -meeting, you inflame; at the second, you toy; at the third, you take a -kiss--pinch the knee, squeeze her, and she is yours." - -I could not restrain an angry movement. - -"And this is the man she loves!" I said, rising abruptly. - -Raymond, terrified by my action, had buried himself anew under the -bedclothes. - -"Do you still have nervous paroxysms?" he cried, without showing his -face. - -"No, no, I'm all right. Adieu, Monsieur Raymond! be happy; and, above -all things, make Nicette happy." - -With that, I left him, returned to my own room, and locked the door. -There I could at least give free vent to the passions which agitated me, -and which I had had the strength to restrain in Raymond's presence. My -heart was torn by love, jealousy, anger, and the most profound -melancholy in turn. I tried to regain my self-control and to overcome a -weakness at which I blushed; then I went out. For a week I courted the -distractions of society and abandoned myself to what men call pleasure. -But those things that once attracted me no longer had the slightest -charm for me. I went to the theatre, to balls, concerts, the most -brilliant parties; everywhere I was bored and discontented; wherever I -went, I carried in the depths of my heart a melancholy, a depression -which I could not overcome. - -I was always delighted to go home; I was happier there; I sought new -suffering in my memories; but that very suffering had a charm for me -which I failed to find in society. But if I wished to forget _her_, I -must needs leave those lodgings. How could I fail to think of her in -that room, on that bed where she had slept! everything there reminded me -of her and fed my love for her. I felt that I must go away; that I must -leave Paris, where life had become unendurable to me. Distance, change -of scene, and time, which, they say, triumphs over everything,--those -were the remedies with which I must treat the insane passion that held -sway in my heart. I would go to see my sister; she had ceased to expect -me, but she would be none the less glad to see me; at all events, I -should find there people who loved me. It seemed to me that that would -do me good. My preparations were soon made. I locked the door of my -lodgings, which I retained, although I was resolved never to occupy them -again. I forbade Madame Dupont to let anyone enter except herself; she -was to take care of them. I paid two quarters' rent in advance, and -started for my sister's. - - - - -XXVIII - -LIFE IN THE PROVINCES - - -I arrived in due time at the country estate where my sister ordinarily -passed the whole year. From a distance I saw that the window shutters -were closed. Could they be travelling? She surely would have written me. -I rang the bell at the gateway; the gardener admitted me and informed me -that Monsieur and Madame Dneterre had gone to Melun for the winter, and -that they came into the country on fine Sundays only. As the city was -only two or three miles distant, I set out on foot. It was beginning to -be dark, but there was a moon. On the way, I tried to imagine what had -induced my dear relations to change their mode of life. They used never -to leave their country house; but they had been married a number of -years, and they probably were beginning to find that they had not so -much to say to each other. Then the winter evenings seemed long to them, -I supposed, so it occurred to them to try passing them in town. That is -the way such fine plans for the future always end! Is there anything on -earth that is beyond the reach of the effects of time? - -I came in sight of the first houses of Melun, a pretty little town, -where I used to enjoy myself immensely in the old days; I should surely -find it delightful, now that Paris was unendurable to me. This much was -certain, that change of scene necessarily causes distraction, and -distraction is the very best remedy for pains of the heart and mind. -Besides, I was no Werther; I had no inclination to nourish my love and -my sorrow in dense forests, or on the brink of a precipice. On the -contrary, I was trying to cure myself; that is the most sensible course; -less romantic, it is true, but more in accordance with nature; and I am -all for the natural. - -I inquired my sister's address. I walked through a part of the town, -which would be its Faubourg Saint-Germain, and I soon found the -Dneterre mansion. In the provinces a family generally occupies a whole -house, whereas in Paris three families often live on the same floor. I -confess that it is pleasanter to be alone in your house, to be able to -do whatever you choose without fear of annoying your neighbors, to be -spared the necessity of meeting repulsive faces, insolent servants, and -snarling children on the stairs, to find no marks of a dog or cat on -your doormat, when for cleanliness' sake you keep no animals yourself; -and lastly, to be able to dismiss your concierge when he is -disrespectful, whereas in Paris you must bribe him, no matter how -insolent he may be, at the risk of passing the night in the street or at -the police station, because, in the company of your friends, you have -forgotten to keep watch of the time. These are some notable advantages -of the provinces over the capital. - -My sister uttered a cry of surprise and delight when she saw me; she -threw her arms round my neck and kissed me. - -"Is it really you, dear Eugne?" she said. "In truth, I didn't expect to -see you before next spring. Ah! it's very sweet of you to remember your -best friends at last." - -I did not tell her that nothing but the desire to avoid Nicette had -driven me from Paris; there was no need of that; besides, I preferred to -be spared the comments of my dear Amlie, who was something of a gossip, -which one is sure to be when one lives in the provinces, where there is -not enough to do to keep people from meddling with their neighbors' -affairs. - -My sister sent for her husband, who had gone to play billiards with some -friends. - -"So he no longer passes all his evenings at home?" I asked Amlie. - -"Oh! my dear, the evenings are very long in winter, and one must do -something. In the provinces, gambling is the general rule; one must -needs conform to it and do as others do." - -"That is true; it is what I have always thought, and what I told you at -the time of your marriage, when you were laying out a scheme of life -which resembled nothing ever heard of. You told me that I was a -heedless, foolish fellow, because I laughed at your plans of seclusion, -and of the happiness you were to enjoy in solitude; and now you have -abandoned that solitude!" - -"Oh! only for the winter; for in winter the country is very dismal; you -see nobody, you can't walk or drive. Everybody flocks to the town, where -they give receptions, play cards, dance sometimes--in short, enjoy -themselves. That's why we came. What would you have? we must do as -others do." - -"Why, it seems perfectly natural to me. At all events, you are happy, -aren't you?" - -"Yes, my dear, very happy! My husband is the best of men; a little -obstinate, to be sure, and not always willing to listen to me when I -prove to him that I am right. The result is that we dispute sometimes; -but that's nothing!" - -"Oh, no! besides, we must do as others do, must we not?" - -"You haven't kissed my children yet, my two little boys; they are -charming little fellows, perfect demons! But bright! you may judge for -yourself." - -"Where are they?" - -"They're in bed; it's nearly eight o'clock." - -"We mustn't wake them." - -"No; you shall see them to-morrow. It's more than a year since you came -to see us--fifteen months at least! They have grown tremendously in that -time! The older one is four now, and the younger three. You can tell us -whom they look like." - -Dneterre's appearance interrupted our conversation. My brother-in-law -manifested great pleasure at my arrival; he embraced me with sincere -cordiality, urged me to pass the winter with them at Melun, and I saw in -his eyes that his heart agreed with his lips; I noticed simply that when -he came in he had in his hands a billiard cue, which he stood in a -corner. We talked business and the news of Paris for a moment. Dneterre -was in good spirits; his cotton mill was prosperous, his business was in -excellent shape, he hoped to be able to retire and live on his income in -a few years. - -While we were talking, Amlie went in and out, gave orders, had a room -made ready for me, invited me to take something before supper. - -"I never take supper," I said. - -"You must do it here, my dear; it's one of the customs of the province, -and it's not disagreeable, I assure you." - -"All right; I'll take supper when I am hungry." - -"Speaking of eating," said Dneterre, "where are the children? Why don't -they come to kiss their uncle?" - -"They're in bed, my dear," said Amlie. - -"In bed, already! why, that's ridiculous! You put them to bed too -early." - -"Their health requires it." - -"Boys don't need to sleep so much." - -"Boys who run about and play all day must need rest when night comes." - -"No matter; I want them to come to kiss their uncle." - -"They can do it just as well to-morrow morning." - -"To-morrow! to-morrow! that won't be the same thing at all. I'm going to -get them." - -"What! wake them up! upon my word! I would like to see you--just to make -them sick." - -"You're the one who makes them sick, making them sleep like dormice." - -"At this rate, I shan't have anything to say about my own children." - -"They are boys; it's my place to train them." - -"You don't understand anything about it; besides, it isn't my fault that -they're not girls." - -As I saw that the discussion was becoming warm, I made haste to change -the subject by taking the billiard cue and handing it to Dneterre. - -"Is this cue yours?" - -"Yes; it's a prize cue that I won at pool not long ago." - -"Ah! so you play pool, do you?" - -"Every night; I am a very good hand at it." - -"Very well; go and finish your game. No ceremony between us, you know. -Besides, I am tired and am going to bed." - -"Until to-morrow, then," said Dneterre, taking his prize cue eagerly; -"you must join us to-morrow, and you will see what progress I've made -since last year, especially since I have been using a patent cue." - -Dneterre left us, and Amlie took me to my room, showing me on the way -a large part of the house, and telling me in detail all that she had -lately had done to it, and the further improvements that she had in -view. I noticed in my sister's conversation something of the tone of the -old gentleman with whom I had dined at Madame de Marsan's country house, -and who dilated so complacently on the details of his barnyard and -hencoop. But I began to understand that the story of the birth of a -chicken and the education of a rabbit might be of great interest to -people who had nothing else to do. - -In the course of our conversation, I asked my sister if she often had -disputes with her husband. - -"Disputes!" she exclaimed, with a surprised look; "why, we never have -any." - -"I thought that just now----" - -"Oh! you call that a dispute! why, my dear boy, that was nothing at all; -we have a hundred little arguments like that during the day; but they're -not disputes! You see, when two people live together, it's very hard to -be always of the same opinion." - -"I should think that it would be more agreeable." - -"But it's impossible! Ah! my dear Eugne, anyone can see that you're a -bachelor! you know nothing at all about married life; but before long I -hope that you will know all the joys of marriage, of which you have no -conception now." - -"No; I agree that I have no conception of them." - -"Patience, it will come in time. Good-night, dear Eugne; until -to-morrow!" - -My sister left me, and I went to bed reflecting on the manner of life of -which Amlie and her husband had just given me a specimen; and yet it -was a delightful household, so everybody said. This much was -certain--that my sister was virtuous, and true to her husband, and that -Dneterre was very fond of his wife and children. Why, then, those -frequent disputes?--I saw that my sister was right: I had undertaken to -argue about conjugal happiness, and I did not know what it was. I -concluded that the best thing I could do was to go to sleep. - -The journey had tired me, but the sight of my sister and her husband had -diverted my thoughts from my grief, for all troubles yield at last to -time and to distraction. I fell asleep in a more tranquil frame of mind -than I had known for a long while; and I should doubtless have slept -well into the forenoon, if my dear nephews had not taken it upon -themselves to wake me. At seven o'clock I heard a great noise in my -room; I felt somebody pulling my leg and my arm; I opened my eyes and -saw my sister's two children, who had climbed on my bed and were amusing -themselves by playing tricks and tumbling all over me. While I, still -half asleep, gazed vacantly at them, I heard a roar of laughter behind -me; I drew the curtain aside and discovered Dneterre seated a few feet -from the bed and laughing at my surprise. - -"Well!" he said; "here they are; what do you think of them?" - -"Why, they are in excellent condition, so far as I can see." - -"Aren't they fine boys?" - -"Yes, indeed." - -"Ah! I'll make hearty little chaps of them, I tell you! They're such -merry, lively rascals!" - -"So I see; just tell them not to pinch me so hard. Here's one of them -who won't let go my calf." - -"It's only play, my dear fellow. They wake me like this every morning. -Tell me, is there any greater pleasure?" - -"Yes, to a father, it must be perfectly charming; but to an uncle, you -see, it hasn't quite the same fascination." - -"Parbleu! it rests entirely with you to become acquainted with that -pleasure; marry, and have children; they'll caress you as these little -fellows caress me." - -"Oh! I shall do it some day, no doubt." - -"Come, my hearties, kiss your uncle and let him dress." - -To prove their affection, the "hearties" threw themselves on my stomach, -seized my head, and, while kissing me, rubbed their faces clean and -wiped their noses on my cheeks and nose; they tried to see which would -kiss me the more. I was suffocating, I cried for mercy; their papa was -forced to order them to desist, but they listened to him no more than to -me, and kept on as before. Luckily, my sister arrived and the scene -changed. - -"What!" she exclaimed, striding angrily toward her husband; "you brought -the children to their uncle before I had washed and dressed them and -combed their hair?" - -"Well! what of that, my dear love? must they be in their Sunday best to -bid their uncle good-morning?" - -"It isn't a question of Sunday best; but I should have liked Eugne to -see them first when they were decently clean; and when they have once -begun to play, it isn't possible to keep them looking decent. But you do -everything without consulting me!" - -"I assure you, my dear sister, that I consider them very nice as they -are." - -"Come, young gentlemen, breakfast is waiting." - -The word _breakfast_ caused my little rascals to decamp at once; they -were soon off my bed, and I was able to rise. - -It seemed to me that examples of wedded bliss succeeded each other -rather swiftly under my sister's roof. But I was inclined to think that, -if I should marry, I should not take them as patterns in the matter of -bringing up children. But I had arrived only the night before, and it -was fair to wait before forming a final judgment. - -I went downstairs and joined the family in the dining room. While we -breakfasted, Amlie and her husband described their daily life to me. In -the morning, business, housekeeping, and a walk when they had any time -to themselves; in the evening, Dneterre went to the caf to play pool, -while his wife dressed to go out. Every evening in the week was taken: -Monday, at the notary's, a small and select party. The most notable of -the townspeople met there. There was little card playing, but much -political discussion, and one could learn there the news of all the -cabinets in Europe; the interests of each of the powers were discussed, -and the _Moniteur_ was read aloud. Tuesdays, at the house of a retired -merchant; he was a rich man and entertained handsomely: beer, cake, and -sweetened water flavored with orange. The play was for very high stakes: -boston for six _blancs_, and cart for five sous; the bets sometimes -went as high as seventy-five centimes! But all games were played there; -whist and boston with great skill. No one called for six tricks unless -he had eight, or stood unless he held an _indpendance_; so that it was -very unusual to see a _remise_ in the course of the evening. Wednesdays, -the evening was spent with the widow of the justice's clerk, who had -four daughters to marry and no money to give them. There they played -innocent games or acted charades or proverbs. In the first place, those -games do not wear out cards, and require fewer candles; in the second -place, the young men soon become well acquainted with the young ladies -while playing such games. They talk and laugh together; and many a -passion has had its birth in crambo, or the little box of _amourettes_. -While whispering a _confidence_, one can easily put in a word of love; -while pretending to sulk, one can say many things! That is the way more -than one marriage is made; and when one has four daughters to look -after, no means should be neglected. However, everything was all right -at the widow's; the games were carried on with the strictest decorum, -and blind-man's-buff seated was prohibited. Thursdays, the meetings were -at an ex-councillor's. Everybody was not received there; only the cream -of society. The guests were forbidden to talk politics, war, affairs of -state, or newspaper rumors. There was no card playing, because that was -a bad example for the young; there was no dancing, because madame la -conseillre, who was old but coquettish, could never obtain a partner; -there were no charades, because they disturb the orderly arrangement of -a salon, and may result in marring the furniture and tearing curtains; -there were no innocent games, because the councillor considered them -indecorous; there were no refreshments, because well-bred people never -need anything of the sort. With these restrictions, one could say and -do whatever one chose, and, of course, enjoy one's self immensely. On -Fridays they met at the house of an elector, whose wife, who was young -and pretty, followed all the fashions of the capital. There you did -whatever you chose; no restraint, no ceremony. Dancing was permitted, -and singing, when anyone desired to sing. Sometimes there was -instrumental music, because there was a piano. All sorts of games were -played, from loto to chess; and you could risk a sou or a louis at your -pleasure. Everybody said what came into his head; they laughed and joked -and talked as they liked; opinions were free; almost all the newspapers -were to be found there, and all sorts of refreshments were provided. It -was after the style of the receptions in the Chausse d'Antin at Paris. - -On Saturdays--ah! that was the day when they all met at my sister's. - -"You will see what fun we have," she said to me; "such a noise, such -_go_! You can't hear what anyone says, but we laugh, and everyone tries -to be merrier than the rest. Why, sometimes the time passes so quickly, -that they are still here at half-past ten!" - -"Half-past ten in the morning?" - -"Why, no! in the evening. Are you mad?" - -"Do you call that late?" - -"I should say so! the custom is to go home at ten o'clock precisely." - -"Great heaven! I am no longer surprised that your children wake you up -at seven o'clock! But on Sundays?" - -"Oh! on Sundays we meet at monsieur le maire's. There are always a lot -of people there. He has a billiard table, and, besides that, the young -people dance. You can judge for yourself what fun we have. That, my -dear Eugne, is the way we employ the week. As you see, there is some -new pleasure every day, and we have no time to be bored." - -"You have no theatrical performances?" - -"Very seldom; but we get along without them." - -"No concerts?" - -"Why, what about those we give among ourselves? And then, in fine -weather, there are the drives about the neighborhood, which are -beautiful: the little forest of La Rochette, Trois-Moulins, and a -thousand delicious spots. And fishing and hunting, and the news of the -town; the little intrigues that everybody knows about after a week, the -quarrels, the gossip, the comments, the fashions, which we think about -here even more than they do in Paris; and the parties, dinners, -baptisms, weddings; ah! the weddings above all! they give us something -to talk about for a month!--Oh! you'll see, my dear brother, that we -have a much better time in the provinces than they do in Paris." - -My sister did not interrupt her enumeration of the pleasures of -provincial life until she saw her husband giving coffee to the little -boys, when a slight discussion ensued. - -"Why do you give those children coffee? it won't do them any good." - -"Bah!" - -"It excites them." - -"Bah!" - -"And then, they don't sleep at night." - -"Bah! bah!" - -"Oh! how you tire me with your _bah! bah!_ I tell you, I don't want them -to drink it!" - -"Just a drop." - -"It makes no difference." - -"It's three-fourths milk." - -"If there were twice as much, it would make no difference.--Come here, -messieurs, and don't drink any more." - -"I want some more!" - -"Here, my boy, drink this." - -"Will you obey me this minute!" - -"Come, come, let them alone." - -"No, I don't want them to drink it." - -And my sister seized the cup, her husband held fast to it, and the -children squealed. Luckily, between them the cup was broken and the -coffee spilled, which fact put an end to this scene of domestic bliss, -to which I found it difficult to accustom myself. The day was employed -in showing me the town and taking me to see my sister's intimate -acquaintances. I let her take me wherever she wished; I was so -complaisant and docile that she was enchanted. She found me much more -staid and reasonable than at my last visit. - -After dinner, Dneterre took me to play a game of pool at his caf; then -we went home to get my sister to go to a reception. It was Thursday, -unluckily for me. I had fallen upon the ex-councillor's day, and I saw -none but cold, forbidding faces, and stiff, formal figures. Fortunately, -the guests did not arrive until half-past eight and left at a quarter to -ten, so that the soire lasted only an hour and a quarter; the first -third was occupied in salutations and reverences, the second in -exchanging commonplaces and nodding the head in assent, and the last in -yawns, concealed with the hand, the handkerchief, or the snuffbox. - -The next evening belonged to the elector; it compensated me to some -extent for the boredom of the preceding one. I found there several -pretty women and a little less formality and more merriment. In the -course of a week I ran the whole gamut of receptions and knew the whole -town. I was well received everywhere; I was rich and unmarried: that was -more than was necessary to assure me a warm welcome. - -I began to become accustomed to the conjugal discussions, and to the -pranks of my nephews, who were little demons in very truth. I saw that, -taking everything together, my sister and her husband were happy; in the -finest weather of one's life storms may arise; a picture must have -shadows to bring out the lights. Their little quarrels did not prevent -their loving each other, and their children's defects were graces in -their eyes. However, I hoped that, if I ever married, I should have -fewer petty _discussions_ with my wife, and I resolved to bring up my -children in an entirely different way; but perhaps I should have -troubles which my sister and her husband had never known. - -I had been in the province a fortnight. I cannot say that I enjoyed -myself exactly, but at least I was not discontented. The novelty of the -life, the original faces that I saw every night, my sister's affection -and her husband's--all these served to divert my thoughts; time produced -its inevitable effect, my melancholy disappeared, and I became what I -used to be. However, I had not entirely forgotten Nicette; I felt that I -still loved her; but when the thought of her came to my mind, I had the -strength to put it aside, and I imposed silence on my heart. - -I would have been glad to fall in love anew--were it only a caprice, one -of those flames which used to set me on fire so quickly; perhaps that -would cure me entirely. But long for it as I would, I could not compel -any such feeling! I looked about me; I saw some good-looking women, some -few faces formed to please; but I saw nobody who resembled Nicette. - - - - -XXIX - -MADEMOISELLE PLAGIE.--A SCHEME TO MARRY ME - - -My sister, who was really a most excellent woman,--due allowance being -made for her tendency to be a little obstinate,--was overjoyed that I -had ceased to speak of returning to Paris. She had no mercy on herself -in her endeavors to procure for me what she called new pleasures every -day. She would have been so delighted to induce me to settle at Melun! -From time to time, she would ask my opinion concerning the young women I -had seen the night before; she would dilate in great detail upon the -virtues, talents, and amiable qualities of each one of them; then she -would extol the pleasures of wedded life, the joy of having children, -which, however, did not prevent her shrieking after her boys the next -moment, and disputing with her husband; but it was understood that those -were among the joys of wedded life. Ah! my dear sister! I saw what you -were driving at! you had gone back to your favorite idea; you were -determined, in short, that I should do as others did, for that was your -constant refrain. And then, to negotiate the marriage of one's brother -is an affair of such vast importance in a small town!--What an -exhaustless source of interviews, confidential communications, visits, -parties, new dresses--and, therefore, of pleasure! - -For some time I did not allow myself to be tempted. However, I was -beginning to believe that one might as well do as others do, especially -when one has lost that desire to flutter about the fair sex, that -longing for every pretty woman, which is so natural to young men. There -was only one for whom I had had any longing, for many weeks past--but -she had deceived me, so I must needs forget her as well as the rest. - -I had noticed for several days that my sister seemed even more content -than usual; I often saw her whispering with Dneterre, who in the end -always did what she wanted him to. They extolled still more warmly the -joys of wedlock, but they said nothing more about any of the young women -I had already seen; they evidently had some new hope; no doubt, I should -soon learn what was in the wind. - -"I shall try to make myself look very nice to-night," said Amlie one -day. "You will go with me, won't you, dear Eugne? It's Madame Lpine's -evening,--she was the elector's wife,--and they say there'll be a good -many people there." - -"But I seem to see the same persons every time." - -"Ah! there'll be some new faces for you to-night; Madame de -Pontchartrain has returned from her place in the country, and she will -be there." - -"Who is this Madame de Pontchartrain?" - -"A most respectable person, who has an income of seven thousand francs -and is seventy years old." - -Very respectable, no doubt; but I could not see why I should be -especially interested in Madame de Pontchartrain. Doubtless I should -learn the answer to the enigma in the evening. - -After dinner madame set about dressing. I had thought that Parisian -women were coquettes, but since I had lived in the provinces I had -learned to do justice to the belles of the capital, who passed two hours -less before their mirrors than the beauties of a small town. Dneterre -went off to play pool, and I walked in the garden while my sister was -dressing; for the first time I was vexed by her slowness; I was in a -hurry to arrive at Madame Lpine's--I, who ordinarily accompanied my -sister solely to oblige her; but one sometimes has presentiments. - -My sister was ready at last; Dneterre returned, and we started. We soon -reached our destination; in a small town no two houses are far apart. We -were announced in due form; for in the provinces you may not enter a -salon in good society without being announced. I glanced around at the -guests and saw no unfamiliar faces. I was almost angry; but while Madame -Lpine was arranging the different games, I saw my sister go to her and -heard her say: - -"My brother won't play cards to-night; don't count on him for boston or -reversis; he prefers the games." - -I had not said anything of the sort to her; what did it mean, that she -took that step without consulting me? I was just on the point of -demanding an explanation, when the servant announced: - -"Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece." - -Aha! there was a niece! I began to understand. All eyes turned toward -the door; I did like everybody else, and I saw a tall, thin, angular, -yellow-skinned woman, who, despite her age, held herself very erect and -seemed to have retained all the vivacity of youth; that was the aunt; -let us say no more of her, but give our attention to the niece. - -A flattering murmur ran about the salon as she entered. In truth, she -was very pretty; of medium height, but well set up; and if she was a -little stiff in her carriage, it was the result of her training. Her -features were regular, complexion rosy, hair very beautiful, and eyes -very large; as for their color, I could not as yet discover it, for she -kept them fixed on the floor. - -While Madame Lpine went to meet Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece, -and all the young women whispered together as they scrutinized the -newcomer, in whom they were undoubtedly seeking defects which they would -speedily find,--for women are very skilful in detecting at a glance -anything disadvantageous to their rivals,--I noticed that my sister -looked furtively at me, trying to read in my eyes the impression that -Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain had produced on my heart. - -Ah! my poor Amlie! my heart was perfectly calm!--calm, do I say? alas, -no! it was not calm as yet, but it was not that young woman who excited -it. I wished that it were; she was very pretty; she might well attract -any man, and I should have been delighted to love her. - -The niece's name was Plagie; I heard her called so by her aunt, who had -taken her seat at a whist table from which she would not stir until it -was time to go home. She urged her niece to enjoy herself, to be less -shy; Plagie blushed, and replied very gently: - -"Yes, aunt." - -The young woman seemed to be the personification of innocence. - -Madame Lpine took possession of Mademoiselle Plagie and led her to the -circle formed for the games. I took my place by her side; I was curious -to make the acquaintance of that young novice. I noticed that all the -other young women watched me when they saw me place my chair beside -Plagie's; jealousy and spite were blazing in their eyes already! In the -provinces, people are so quick to interpret the slightest action, the -slightest indication of preference! But it mattered little to me what -they thought; I was at liberty to do whatever I chose. - -How uncharitable young women are to one another! Those who came -regularly to the receptions enjoyed the bashfulness and embarrassment of -the newcomer, and tried to intensify them by putting the most difficult -questions to her in the games and making her do what was likely to -confuse her most. I detected their petty malice, and I tried to put -Mademoiselle Plagie more at her ease. Once she attempted to thank me, -and began a sentence the end of which I did not hear; but she raised her -eyes an instant, and I was able to see that they were of a very tender -shade of blue, and sweet in expression. - -Madame Lpine, who was a very amiable person and did her best to -entertain her guests, asked Madame de Pontchartrain if her niece was -musical. - -"Yes, madame," the old aunt replied; "Plagie sings, and accompanies -herself on the piano." - -Immediately all the young women begged Plagie to sing them something. -They hoped to find food for criticism. Plagie demurred very awkwardly; -she glanced at her aunt, who gave her a look which clearly signified -_sing_; whereupon she rose; I escorted her to the piano and offered to -accompany her. - -"No, monsieur," she said; "I will play my own accompaniment." - -Surely any other woman would have thanked me in a different way; but -Plagie was innocence itself, and I saw that she had not learned to -embellish her speeches. - -She sang us an old ballad in six stanzas. The subject was love; but no -one would have suspected it from listening to Plagie, who imparted -absolutely no expression to her voice or to the instrument. Any Parisian -girl, even when fresh from her boarding school, would have played and -sung much better than that; she would have rolled her eyes gracefully, -whereas this one did not lift them from the keys; she would have put -some soul into the words of love, whereas this one repeated them as -coldly as possible. The comparison at the first blush seemed unfavorable -to Plagie; but when I reflected that that which prevented her from -performing more brilliantly proved her innocence and virtue, I -considered that her awkwardness was entirely to her credit. - -My sister was enraptured. She saw me sit beside Plagie, speak to her -often, escort her to the piano, and take her back to her chair. That was -more than was necessary to indicate the birth of love; and, of course, -it would naturally end in marriage. - -The party came to an end; everybody took their leave; but Amlie found -an opportunity to present me to the great-aunt, who honored me with an -almost affable glance. As I went downstairs, I found myself beside -Plagie; I could not do otherwise than offer her my hand. She looked at -her aunt; a glance authorized her to accept, and she held out her hand -as awkwardly as possible. I was careful to touch only the tips of her -fingers; I had fallen in with the manners and customs of the town. -However, the ladies lived only a few steps away; so we soon reached -their house, where we left them after the three conventional bows; I -observed, by the way, that Plagie was very proficient in the matter of -courtesies. - -When we reached home, Amlie turned the conversation upon Mademoiselle -Plagie; I expected it, and I let her talk with her husband. They vied -with each other in extolling her to the skies. - -"She's a charming girl!" - -"Upon my word, she's the prettiest girl in Melun!" - -"And so perfectly well bred!" - -"Wonderfully so! a strict education; but what manners! what decorous -behavior in company!" - -"She is innocence personified." - -"She's an excellent musician." - -"And no one would suspect it, because she makes no pretensions." - -"Her aunt has no other heir; she's an excellent match!" - -"The man who gets her won't make a bad speculation!" - -"And he can be sure of his wife's virtue." - -Annoyed by my silence, my sister addressed herself to me at last. - -"Well, Eugne, tell us what you think of Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain." - -"My dear girl, what do you expect me to add to your eulogies of her?" - -"Aren't you of our opinion?" - -"Why, yes, pretty nearly." - -"Oh! you don't choose to admit it, but I saw well enough that you -thought her pretty." - -"Pretty; to be sure she is." - -"And well bred." - -"As to that, I think so, but----" - -"In short, she pleased you, my dear brother?" - -"Pleased me! oh! come now! I haven't said anything to prove----" - -"But I can't see why it isn't perfectly natural. Surely your lady -friends in Paris can't resemble the charming Plagie?" - -"Resemble her! Oh! as to that, I agree with you absolutely." - -Amlie seemed quite content; in vain did I tell her that she was -mistaken; she was persuaded that I was in love with Plagie. Dneterre -kept repeating that it would be an excellent match; and as I could not -make them stop talking, I adopted the expedient of going to bed. - -For several days nothing unusual disturbed the even tenor of life under -my sister's roof. Every evening I went with her to some reception; for -when I attempted to stay behind, she always found some way to make me do -as she wished. So that I saw Mademoiselle Plagie every evening, for she -accompanied her aunt, who never failed to be on hand for her game of -whist or reversis, which she even played in the morning, with three -dowagers who had done nothing else for fifteen years, and in whose eyes -their game was of such importance that one wept when her king was -trumped, and another fell ill because she had discarded the knave of -hearts. - -Plagie took part in the minor games, but she continued to be as shy and -embarrassed as on the first day I saw her. As she was very pretty, the -other young ladies had no mercy on her. Some of the young lady killers -of the town undertook to make to her the pretty, gallant speeches which -men of wit no longer venture to use, because they are too trite. But the -wit of the dandies of Melun seemed to make no impression on Plagie's -mind; she listened very coldly to their compliments, and made no other -reply than a low bow. The young men, vexed to produce so little effect, -went elsewhere to play the butterfly. I alone remained true to -Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain, and I alone obtained from her replies not -quite so laconic. To be sure, I paid her no embarrassing compliments, -and placed myself on her level by talking with her of the simplest -subjects. She seemed a little less timid with me; she began to raise her -eyes when she answered me; and twice I fancied that she actually smiled -at me. Decidedly I was a favored mortal. - -The novelty of this method of making love amused and distracted me. My -heart was still perfectly tranquil in Plagie's presence; and yet, since -I had known her I had thought less of Nicette. The young innocent filled -my thoughts, and, while I had no love for her, I liked to be with her; -her pretty face did no harm, but her shyness and her artlessness -attracted me even more. - -My sister had ceased to talk about her, but I saw she was well pleased. -The great-aunt treated me very affably; she interrupted her game -sometimes to inquire for my health; which fact indicated the -extraordinary favor with which she regarded me. The young ladies, it -must be said, no longer evinced the same interest in me, manifested much -less pleasure at my arrival, and did not make me pay a forfeit at the -kissing stage of their games; but as I attached no value to the -privilege, I paid no heed to their indifference. The mammas whispered to -one another as they looked at me, while the papas smiled slyly at me; -everything indicated that a great event was expected; I was perhaps the -only one who gave no thought at all to the subject with which the whole -town was agog. - -Dneterre was the first to open my eyes. - -"When's the wedding to be?" he asked me one evening, rubbing his hands. - -"What's that? what wedding?" - -"Parbleu! yours!" - -"Mine! with whom, pray?" - -"With whom! with whom! Ah! you choose to be close-mouthed! But we have -eyes, my dear fellow, and we know what to think." - -"But I believe I have eyes, too, and I have seen nothing to imply----" - -"Come, come, my dear Eugne," interposed my sister, "why pretend any -longer with us, your best friends? You love Plagie; what do I say? love -her? you adore her; I am sure of it. The whole town knows it, too; it's -no longer a mystery." - -"Oho! the whole town knows that----" - -"Yes, my dear. And the young woman has shown her preference for you; -that also is very easy to see: moreover, no one should claim to cut you -out. The aunt considers you a very suitable match; she knew our mother -and she thinks a great deal of our family. When her niece is married, -she will settle three thousand francs a year on her, and leave her the -rest of her property at her death. It seems to me that that is not to be -despised; with what you have now, you will be in comfortable -circumstances, and you will make a charming couple. Tell me, when do you -want me to go to ask for her hand?" - -I listened to my sister, and I admit that I was greatly surprised by -what I heard. However, on mature reflection, I realized that my conduct, -which would never have been noticed at Paris, might well, in a small -town, give rise to the conjectures which were relied upon to induce me -to marry Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain. - -Amlie and her husband told me so often and so earnestly that I loved -Plagie, that I began to think that they would end by making me believe -it. And, after all, should I be so badly off if I married that young -innocent? If I was not in love with her, perhaps I should be all the -happier; moreover, I was well aware that I was incapable of a new love; -the most that I could do was to stamp out that which still tormented me -in spite of myself. - -Beside the innocent Plagie, I should pass placid days; she was bashful, -virtuous, well bred; a husband would be able to mould her as he chose. -Friendship, they say, is more durable than love; I would begin with -friendship for my wife, so that I might love her the longer. I should -not be jealous; I should have one less source of torment. I should have -children, whom I would bring up on a very different plan from my -sister's. Finally, having a gentle, guileless, and taciturn wife, we -should have none of those little discussions which Amlie called -conjugal amenities, but which were in my eyes very unpleasant quarrels. - -All these reflections produced a state of indecision, which my sister -interpreted in accordance with her favorite idea. Persuaded that I loved -Plagie secretly, that Plagie adored me, and that our union would make -me the happiest of husbands and ensure my future peace of mind, Amlie -urged me, harassed me, persecuted me, to induce me to authorize her to -ask for the hand of Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain. At every moment in -the day she drew for me a new picture of the delights of wedded life. -Dneterre did the same; in the first place, to please his wife, and, -secondly, because he thought it would be a good match for me; to cap the -climax, even messieurs my nephews had been taught their lesson, and -every day, as they climbed on my knees or my shoulders, they would say: - -"When are you going to invite us to the wedding, uncle?" - -I am naturally weak, as you must have noticed; tired of being tormented -from morning till night to marry, I saw that I must either make up my -mind to do it or leave the town, where I was already pointed out as -Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain's future husband. - -But if I returned to Paris, what should I do there, tired as I was of -bachelor life, and conscious of a craving to love, to attach myself to -someone, and to detach myself from her whom I had loved so dearly?--No, -I would marry, I would adore my wife if possible, and pray that she -would prove my rock of salvation. - -The result of these reflections was that I said one day in response to -my sister's entreaties: - -"Do whatever you choose." - -Amlie asked no further questions; she threw her arms around me, kissed -me, and, giving me no chance to add a single word, flew to Madame de -Pontchartrain's to sue for Plagie's hand for her brother. In half an -hour she returned with the answer, which was favorable. - -"She gives her to you!" she cried from the foot of the stairs; "she is -yours; everything is agreed upon and settled; to-morrow I will attend to -publishing the banns." - -I considered that my sister had been a little too expeditious; it was -impossible now to retract; the request had been made and granted, and I -was bound!--What! I was going to marry Plagie, whom I hardly knew? It -seemed to me that it must all be a joke; I could not accustom myself to -the idea of being Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain's husband. - - - - -XXX - -AN INTERVIEW WITH MY INTENDED - - -After my marriage was decided upon, I received permission to go alone to -Madame de Pontchartrain's to pay court to Plagie in her aunt's -presence. In the evening, I sometimes escorted the ladies into society -and took them home. It was not infinitely entertaining to me. I began to -be weary of all that etiquette and ceremony, of all those provincial -puerilities; but I determined that, when I was once married, I would go -back to Paris and teach my wife another way to live. - -Despite all the efforts my sister made to hasten what she called the -instant of my happiness, I could not become Plagie's husband in less -than a month; and in that time I hoped to become better acquainted with -my promised bride. To be sure, I saw her every evening; but it was -always in company, playing parlor games, where everybody's eyes were -fastened on us, trying to divine what two people who are to be married -say to each other. Poor dears! in vain did you prick up your ears and -stretch your necks, trying to catch our lightest words; you could not -possibly hear anything to enlighten you upon that subject, because -Mademoiselle Plagie and I had never spoken of it. - -It may seem surprising that a promised husband had not spoken of love -and marriage to her to whom his troth was plighted; but I confess that I -did not care to admit everybody to the secret of my thoughts, and in -company it would have been very hard for me to say anything to Plagie -which would not be overheard by all the ears that were constantly on the -alert about us. Moreover, how can one discuss an interesting subject -while playing _La Sellette_ or _Monsieur le Cur_? I hoped to be less -constrained with her in the morning, but the aunt was always there; -often, too, some acquaintance came to make a call. I could not see -Plagie alone for an instant; it was impossible to carry on a connected -conversation with her, and I began to be impatient. It seemed to me very -natural to make the acquaintance of one's wife before marriage; I felt -sorely tempted to consign to the Evil One all that provincial etiquette -which was so utterly devoid of sense. I decided to apply to my sister to -obtain for me an interview with my intended. - -"Amlie, I should be very glad to have a little conversation with -Plagie." - -"Well, what prevents you, my dear? don't you see her every morning and -evening, if you choose?" - -"Yes, to be sure, I see her in the morning, but always in the presence -of her aunt and three or four old mummies who would deprive the most -impassioned lover of all desire to make love. Besides, Plagie is very -shy; how can you expect her to describe her sentiments before people?" - -"Why, my dear, you ought to divine them easily enough from the hints she -lets fall." - -"My dear girl, at the point we have reached I cannot be content with -hints; I want something positive; in short, I want to know what sort of -a person I have to do with." - -"But you are allowed to talk freely enough, I should think." - -"Ha! ha! that is delicious! but I tell you again, it isn't enough for -me." - -"In the evening, you always sit beside her; you can whisper to her and -squeeze her hand." - -"My poor Amlie, you make me laugh with your provincial privileges; a -man has much greater ones in Paris with young women he isn't proposing -to marry." - -"So much the worse for the girls in Paris, brother." - -"Or so much the better, for, after all, severity overdone is often -harmful; when the principles of virtue are once engraved on a girl's -mind, I don't see why she should not be allowed a reasonable degree of -liberty; those who would make missteps would surely have done it later; -but those who would always behave themselves, and would not abuse the -privilege of listening to foolish talk, they, my dear Amlie, would -bring with them, when they marry, a guarantee of their virtue; for you -will agree that there is no great merit in being innocent when it is -impossible to be anything else." - -"Oh! what ideas you have about women, brother! It is easy to see that -you have been spoiled in Paris." - -"I have much less narrow ideas than yours as to the training of girls, -sister; for example, I strongly approve the English method, by which -they are allowed to do whatever they choose before marriage. In London, -an unmarried girl goes out alone to call on her friends and -acquaintances. She may go to a concert or theatre with a young man, -without arousing the suspicion that he is her lover. She goes to balls -without a mentor; and in society she may laugh and talk and lead the -conversation, without being called to order by her parents. But when she -is once married, there's a great difference; she must lead an orderly, -quiet life, devoted entirely to the care of her household and her -children; she goes out only with her husband, receives no men except in -his presence, and at parties and receptions consorts with persons of her -own sex, who, like herself, refrain from joining the men, whom they -generally leave at table after dinner to drink and tell stories. Well! -do you think that such a very bad system? For my part, I am convinced -that there are fewer deceived husbands in England than in France." - -"Bah! they are deceived there before marriage, that's all the -difference." - -"And here, after marriage." - -"Brother!" - -"Oh! don't be angry; I didn't mean that for you." - -"Well! what is the point of your remarks?" - -"I want you to procure me a tte--tte with Plagie." - -"A tte--tte! do you mean it?" - -"With my future bride, it will be perfectly proper!" - -"But propriety--good morals!" - -"Propriety and good morals cannot be offended." - -"But the custom!" - -"Your customs are beginning to be very irksome to me; and if you don't -obtain me the interview I desire, I am quite capable of decamping some -fine morning and leaving you with my intended and her aunt and all the -gossip of the town on your hands!" - -"Oh! mon Dieu! the reckless fellow! he makes me shudder!--Well, I'll try -to arrange it. After all, you're to be married in a week, and--and--in -fact---- But I have an idea: I will go to Madame de Pontchartrain and -ask her permission to take her niece with me to make some purchases that -are necessary for her wedding; she can't refuse me; then I'll bring -Plagie here, and you can talk to her at your leisure." - -"That's a happy idea!" - -"But I trust, my dear, that you will behave yourself, and----" - -"Don't be alarmed! Really, you have a very low opinion of me." - -"The fact that I am going to fetch your intended proves the contrary." - -My sister did, in fact, go to Madame de Pontchartrain's. My threat of -leaving Melun had made poor Amlie tremble; she had not even been -willing to let me go to Paris to purchase the indispensable gifts; -Dneterre had undertaken to do all that. I did not insist, for I might -have fallen in with somebody in Paris who would have made me forget my -marriage. - -Amlie succeeded in her mission; she soon returned with Plagie, who, on -seeing me, blushed and courtesied as if I were a stranger. - -"Here is my brother, who will be delighted to talk with you," said -Amlie, as she led Plagie into the house. "I have a thousand things to -do, and I am compelled to leave you for a few minutes; but you will be -united in a week, so I can see no great harm in leaving you together." - -Amlie left us, and I was alone with my future wife at last. Plagie -seated herself at a considerable distance from me, so I began by placing -my chair close to hers and taking possession of both her hands. I was -glad to see that she made no effort to withdraw them. I gazed at her for -several minutes; she kept her eyes fixed on the floor and said not a -word. I concluded that if I did not begin the conversation we should sit -in silence and without moving all day long; indeed, it was my place to -begin. - -"You know, mademoiselle, that we are to be married?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"In a week, I shall be your husband." - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Does the prospect please you?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Then you love me a little?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -That was not bad for a beginning. Still, I was anxious to obtain -something besides that everlasting _yes, monsieur_.--I tried to go about -it so as to make her reply less briefly. - -"When you first saw me, did you pick me out from the rest, prefer me to -other young men?" - -Doubtless that question seemed embarrassing to her; it was some time -before she answered, but at last I heard a _yes, monsieur_. - -"Had your heart never spoken before you saw me?" - -"I don't know, monsieur." - -"What! do you mean that you have been in love before?" - -"Oh! no, monsieur; I don't know anything about love." - -"Why, you do now, don't you?" - -"No, monsieur." - -"Then you don't love me?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Would you prefer another to me?" - -"I don't know, monsieur." - -"Suppose you should be married to someone else, would you be sorry?" - -"I don't know, monsieur." - -"Then, why do you marry me?" - -"I don't know, monsieur." - -I nearly lost my patience; the woman would surely drive me mad with her -gentleness. I began to be afraid that I had mistaken stupidity for -innocence and awkwardness for timidity! But her hand trembled; probably -she was afraid that she had angered me. I felt that I must control -myself and not frighten her; that was not the way to attract her and win -her confidence. - -"Plagie." - -"Monsieur." - -"My dear girl, when you are going to marry a man, you mustn't call him -_monsieur_." - -"What shall I say, then?" - -"Call me your _dear_; I hope always to be that." - -"Yes, my dear." - -"Has your aunt brought you up very strictly?" - -"Yes, my dear." - -"Don't you ever receive any young men at your house?" - -"No, my dear." - -"Do you like society?" - -"Yes, my dear." - -"When we are married, what would you like to do?" - -"Whatever you like, my dear." - -"Shall we remain here, or go to Paris to live?" - -"Oh! I don't care. But----" - -"Well! go on, don't be afraid to speak." - -"I think I should like Paris better." - -"In that case, I am delighted to agree with you." - -And I kissed her hand, to manifest a little affection. She hastily -withdrew it. - -"Plagie, a promised husband may kiss his betrothed's hand as much as he -pleases." - -"Really?" - -"I give you my word." - -Instantly she offered me both hands. Her docility was charming; it was -something, at all events. - -"Plagie, what has your aunt ever said to you about me?" - -"She told me I might listen to you." - -"And then?" - -"That you had asked for my hand, and she had given it to you." - -"So she didn't consult you beforehand?" - -"No, my dear. What for?" - -"Why, to know if you liked me." - -"Oh! it wasn't worth while." - -"But it seems to me that if----" - -"I am too well bred not to obey my aunt." - -"But if I had been old, ugly, and gouty?" - -"That wouldn't have made any difference." - -"You would have married me just the same?" - -"Of course, if my aunt had said so." - -"Why, then you have no inclination for me?" - -"What is an inclination?" - -"What! has your aunt never told you that you must love your husband?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -"And be faithful to him?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -"Do whatever he wishes?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -"And never listen to other men?" - -"Oh, yes!" - -I could stand it no longer; I leaped from my chair. Plagie, terribly -frightened, rose also and looked at me. I paced the floor with long -strides. But she came toward me. - -"Have you hurt yourself?" she asked, opening her eyes to their fullest -extent. I could not help smiling at her question. I put my arms around -her and embraced her with considerable warmth; I was determined to try -to animate her at any cost. At first she tried to release herself; but I -told her that a future husband had the right to hold his intended in his -arms. - -"Oh! that makes a difference," she said; and she ceased to resist. - -"He may kiss you, too," I said; and I proceeded to kiss her repeatedly, -on her cheeks and her lips. She made no objection.--See how dangerous -ignorance often is! there was an innocent with whom a man might do -whatever he chose by means of false arguments. - -But as I heard my sister I released Plagie, who allowed herself to be -kissed with charming docility. Indeed, I fancied that she was beginning -to show some animation. - -"Come," said my sister, as she entered the room, "it's time to go back -to your aunt, my dear Plagie; she might not like it if you should stay -away any longer. You have had plenty of time to talk, and you will have -still more when you're married. Take your shawl and let us go." - -Plagie took her shawl without a word, and prepared to go with my -sister. I bade her adieu, whereupon she gave me a decidedly tender -glance. I believed that my kisses had produced some effect on her heart, -and that belief made me a little more hopeful of the future. - -I realized now that my bride had no intelligence; perhaps I might have -gone further; but I must needs make the best of it. I did not think -that, in order to be happy, one must have a genius for a wife; bright -women are generally very tiresome in their homes, and she who devotes -her time to displaying the gifts she has received from nature very -rarely thinks of taking care of her children and gratifying her husband. -As soon as a woman believes herself to be more intelligent than her -husband, she refuses to be governed by him. Moreover, I had had many -liaisons with clever women, and the result had not been flattering to -me. Agathe, Caroline, and Madame de Marsan were all bright. And Nicette? -she was, too; and yet---- Well, it was very fortunate that my betrothed -was not. I was well aware that there was a great distance between a -genius and a blockhead, and that if pretentiousness is irksome, -stupidity is even more so. But I hoped that marriage, which works so -many metamorphoses, would succeed in forming Plagie's judgment. I had -already fancied that I could see that my caresses had stirred her -pulses. There is a time when nature seems benumbed; at such a time a -crisis is necessary. Perhaps Plagie's heart and mind only needed that -crisis to develop rapidly. - - - - -XXXI - -I MARRY - - -The great day arrived when I was to utter that solemn _yes_ which would -bind me forever. Forever is a very long time--it is very short when one -is happy! - -At times melancholy thoughts oppressed me. I was not in love with the -woman I was about to marry, and I felt that it was the absence of love -that made us walk so carelessly toward the altar. Love, who charms the -present and embellishes the future, is a god whose presence is most -essential on the wedding day; he ought always to preside on such -occasions. However, I proposed to do without him; indeed, I must, for -whom could I love now? I should have ceased to think of _her_, but I -still thought of her. She did not love me; and if she had loved me, -could I have married her? It would have been madness; but is the madness -which makes one happy so very blameworthy? - -I felt tears in my eyes. Was that the proper way to begin that day? It -was my last thought of her. Henceforth I would never think of the past. -I must try to be light-hearted, to be amiable with Plagie. Amiable! she -would not notice it! But, no matter; I must forget myself. - -My sister was the first who entered my room. I fancy that she noticed my -depression; she kissed me and embraced me, and assured me that I should -be very happy. - -"God grant it!" I thought. "Thus far I have not been happy in love; -perhaps I shall be in marriage." - -I overcame my weakness and was myself once more. Poor Amlie! she was so -pleased when she saw me smile! - -By the way, where were my wife and I to live? I had not given that -matter a thought; but I was not at all disturbed, for my sister had -undertaken to look out for everything, and she was not the woman to -forget anything so important. However, I felt that I should be very glad -to know where I was to take my better half that night. - -"You haven't told me yet, sister, where I am to live." - -"That goes without saying, my dear." - -"Nevertheless, you will have to tell me, for I can't guess." - -"Has not Madame de Pontchartrain a magnificent house, of which she -occupies only one-half? You are to live there with your wife." - -"At her aunt's? I don't like that very much." - -"Don't be disturbed; your suite is by itself, and a long way from hers; -you need have nothing to say to each other, except when you please. I -knew, of course, that you would like to be by yourself, and I have had -everything arranged with that end in view." - -"All right.--By the way, has Plagie received all the usual gifts?" - -"Yes, my dear; have you forgotten that I showed them to you yesterday -and told you Dneterre had spent three thousand francs out of the money -you gave him?" - -"True; it had gone out of my head." - -"Plagie will be enchanted, I assure you. There's a beautiful set of -jewelry--and shawls--and dress materials." - -"Very good; so, then, there's nothing for me to do to-day but to get -married?" - -"Mon Dieu! that's all, my dear." - -"So much the better. What time is it to be?" - -"At eleven o'clock you are to call for your wife and take her to the -mayor's office. We shall have two carriages; I have ordered them." - -"Two carriages! it seems to me that's very few." - -"There are no more to be had in town." - -"That makes a difference." - -"But this evening we shall have several sedan chairs and Bath chairs." - -"Aha! so they have those things here?" - -"To be sure; they are very convenient and much less dangerous than your -horse vehicles, which always frighten me." - -"It is true that in a Bath chair the steed doesn't take the bit in his -teeth. And from the mayor's office we go to the church?" - -"Yes; at one o'clock." - -"And then?" - -"Then we come back here, and chat until three." - -"Where is the wedding feast to be?" - -"Here, my dear. At first Madame de Pontchartrain insisted on having it -at her house, but I finally carried the day. We shall be much more free -here, you know. We can laugh and sing and frolic." - -"I confess that I shall be delighted to be allowed to frolic. And the -ball is to be here also, I suppose?" - -"Oh! no, my dear; the ball is to be at Madame de Pontchartrain's; she -has a superb salon, where three sets can dance a quadrille at once. -Besides, it's more proper at night to be where the bride can -conveniently be put to bed!" - -"What's that? put the bride to bed? I fancy that that's my business." - -"No, my dear; don't you know that it's the custom for the bride's near -relations to take her to the nuptial chamber and undress her and put her -to bed?" - -"You will do me the kindness to abridge all that ceremonial, which I -consider utterly ridiculous, as much as you possibly can. It seems to me -to be the bridegroom's place to undress his wife and put her to bed--or -to postpone putting her to bed if he and she please. They are entirely -at liberty to suit themselves." - -"Oh! brother, think of what decency demands!" - -"My dear girl, some people are so decent that they end by being -indecent; just as some people are so bright that they end by making -fools of themselves. Extremes meet; too great strictness breeds -debauchery, just as extreme rigidity of morals often ends in their -entire subversion. _Summum jus, summa injuria._ The savages who live in -countries where they are not ruled by civilized man should have pure -morals, since they follow the inspiration of nature; and yet that -extreme purity which leads them to go naked and to conceal nothing from -one another resembles a refinement of libertinage among us. Diogenes, -who wanted to be a wise man, was nothing better than a fool; and Crates, -who considered himself a philosopher, was simply disgusting; and how -many writers there are who, by dint of trying to rise to the sublime, -fall into bathos! and scholars who, while striving to be profound, are -simply ludicrous! and actors who, in their efforts to be natural, appear -absurd! and dancers who fall to the ground because they try to jump too -high! The moral of all this is that we should seek a happy medium in -everything, and that when a husband and wife have complied with the -behests of the law and of religion they should be allowed to go to bed -without having somebody else place them solemnly between two sheets; -which, in my opinion, is better adapted to offend decency than to -gratify it." - -"I am very sorry, my dear, but the custom----" - -"I tell you, if I were in love with my wife, I would make short work of -this custom! but let us say no more about it; I will submit to whatever -you say." - -"Very well; dress yourself and come to breakfast." - -I felt that I must dress myself with care; the least one can do is to -try to make himself presentable on his wedding day. Although Plagie had -said that she would have married me just the same if I had been old and -ugly, I liked to think that she would notice the difference. I was soon -ready; unless he is a conceited fop, a man cannot spend much time over -his toilet, and I did not, like Raymond, reflect for a quarter of an -hour where I should place a pin or how I should arrange the ends of my -cravat. Speaking of my neighbor, I regretted that he was not at Melun; -he would have assumed the duties of best man, and would certainly have -invented something new; but it would probably have resulted to my -disadvantage, so perhaps it was as well that he was not there. - -My nephews came jumping and prancing into my room, to tell me that -breakfast was waiting; they were already in their gala costumes, and -were so wild with delight that we could not hear ourselves talk. Happy -age, when the least novelty, the slightest change in the daily habits, -the idea of a party, a wedding, a grand dinner--of anything, in fact, -that suggests confusion and disorder--causes intoxicating delight! We -ought to retain longer the characteristics of childhood. - -I found Dneterre in full dress. He came to me, embraced me, pressed my -hand with a satisfied air, and said to me in a half solemn, half comical -tone: - -"Well! you're one of us now!" - -I looked at him with a smile, and stifled a sigh which would have been a -rude answer to his congratulations. - -"Come, let's eat, and eat heartily!" said my brother-in-law, taking his -seat at the table. "You need to lay in some strength to-day, my dear -boy." - -So the chapter of jests had begun; but it was likely to be brief in a -small place, where remarks with a double meaning were frowned upon. At -all events, they might say what they pleased; I was determined to accept -everything with a good grace. But I thought it well to follow -Dneterre's advice and eat heartily; that was the best thing for me to -do until night. - -"Let us hurry," said Amlie; "it's almost eleven; we mustn't keep your -wife waiting, dear Eugne." - -"Of course not; that would not be polite; I am ready to start." - -"Come, Dneterre, have you finished?" - -"For heaven's sake, give me time to swallow!" - -"Oh! how long it takes you to do anything! Do put on the children's -hats!" - -"What! are you going to take them to the mayor's office?" - -"Certainly." - -"That's all folly; it won't amuse them, and they'll crowd the carriage; -it's much better not to take them till we go to the church." - -"But I insist on their going now! Do you suppose that I dressed them up -just to leave them at home?" - -"But I tell you we can come back and get them in a little while." - -"And I tell you that I propose to take them now." - -"There won't be any room for them." - -"You can hold them on your knees." - -"So that they can kick me and soil the ladies' dresses!" - -"They'll keep quiet." - -"It would be something new!" - -"Oh! how you tire me with your arguments!" - -"You are a most obstinate creature!" - -The clock struck eleven, and I put an end to the discussion by -announcing that I was going; my sister and her husband did the same, and -we took the little boys. I was very sure that that would be the result. - -The two carriages were in front of the house; the coachmen wore white -gloves and had huge bouquets. All the neighbors were at their doors or -windows; a wedding in a small town is such a momentous event! it -furnishes a subject of conversation for more than a week. - -We took five minutes to go about as far as the length of one of the -shorter boulevards in Paris; the horses were not used to coaches, and -their drivers drove very slowly in order that they might seem to be -starting on a journey. We arrived at last and were shown into the large -salon, where the intimate friends and the distinguished personages -invited to the first ceremony were assembled. I did not see my bride, -and started to go in search of her; but I was detained; I could not be -allowed to enter her bedroom yet. - -"She's coming," said Madame de Pontchartrain; "be patient, my dear -Dorsan, you will soon see her." - -I had no difficulty in being patient; still, I wished that it was all -over. I was beginning to be deathly tired of the compliments everyone -paid me, to which I soon ceased to be able to reply, because everyone -said the same thing. - -At last Plagie appeared, escorted by her aunt and my sister. Her dress -was magnificent, and her face even prettier than usual. The compliments -began anew. I listened to them now with more pleasure; the presence of a -pretty woman always suggests compliments to me, and I was not displeased -by the admiration my bride aroused. - -I hastened forward to take her hand; she kept her eyes fixed on the -floor and seemed to have resolved not to raise them during the day. I -led her toward the door and to the carriage, heedless of the -remonstrances of her aunt and my sister, who called after us: - -"That isn't right! wait! wait! It isn't your place to take her hand! -You're disarranging the programme!" - -I cared not a whit for the programme. Madame de Pontchartrain almost -lost her temper; my sister calmed her by attributing my heedlessness to -my excessive love. We entered the carriages, which process took nearly -ten minutes, because, in the first place, no one would get in first, and -then no one would take the rear seat. I had to hold myself hard to -refrain from pushing them all into the carriages--the ceremonious -idiots, who stood an hour on the steps! Poor lovers, who marry in the -provinces, how your tempers are tried! At last we were all seated. -Dneterre was compelled to walk with the children, who had already torn -the trimming of three dresses and stained several white satin shoes with -mud. Really, the little rascals were most amusing! - -We arrived at the mayor's office. As there is seldom a line of people -waiting to be married in provincial towns, we were not obliged to wait -an hour for our turn. The ceremony was performed quickly enough, and I -was married according to law; there was no drawing back. - -To reach the church we had to repeat the same nonsense with respect to -the carriages; it took even longer to arrange the order of march, for -several people had joined us at the mayor's office, and the procession -was swelled by three sedan chairs and two Bath chairs. My wedding had -stirred the town to its centre; the church was filled with people, and -we could scarcely force our way through the crowd. Those who were not of -the wedding party had come to criticise, those who were, to admire; and -the idlers, loiterers, working girls, matrons, and old women, to say -their say concerning the bride and groom. - -Everybody knows what a marriage is, for it is easy to procure the -pleasures of marriage in Paris. I will not therefore go into the -details of mine; it resembled others as to form, and several times I -heard some such words as: - -"That's a pretty couple; they are both very good-looking." - -A body always likes to hear such remarks. - -At last the fatal _yes_ was pronounced. Plagie said it so low that -nobody could have heard her; for my part, I showed much firmness. We had -a sermon preached to us--a little long, perhaps, but very touching and -moving. How can one fail to be moved when one is pledging one's self for -life?--I glanced at Plagie; she did not weep; her eyes were cast down, -her manner was as reserved, her demeanor as modest as usual, and she -showed no more than her ordinary emotion. That vexed me; it seemed to me -that she should have wept. - -At last all was over; I was married! We left the church between three -rows of sightseers, and went to my sister's; we spent three-quarters of -an hour in going the distance of a gunshot; to be sure, our procession -was increased by about half of the town, and we had to return salutes -and courtesies at every step. - -When we reached the house, it was only half-past one, and we did not -dine till three. What were we to do in the interval? That was the most -difficult part of the whole day. Some old women proposed a game of -boston or whist, but Madame de Pontchartrain thought that it would be a -breach of etiquette to play cards on a wedding day morning; it is good -form to do nothing; it is amusement enough to talk, sitting very -straight for fear of rumpling one's gown. - -Without asking our dear aunt's opinion, I went down into the garden with -my wife. I wanted to entice her into some solitary path; not that I -proposed to exert my marital rights already; but I wanted to try to -read Plagie's heart and find out what her present feelings were.--It -was impossible to be alone; all the young women followed us; the -inquisitive little hussies would not let us out of their sight. Two -young married people afford so much food for thought! they are so pretty -to look at--when they are pretty; and you know that we were. - -I could do nothing more than take my wife's hand; I squeezed it -tenderly--very tenderly--and she looked at me and smiled.--"The deuce!" -thought I; "can it be that she understands that language?" - -"You hurt my fingers," she remarked mildly, withdrawing her hand. - -It was enough to drive one to despair! I had no further desire to walk -with her alone. - -Luckily, the hour for the feast arrived. We betook ourselves, with the -utmost formality, as before, to the dining room; we took our seats in -the order demanded by convention. I was at one end of the table, my wife -at the other; that was the best way to encourage harmony between us; and -then, everyone knew that we should come together at last. - -The greatest tranquillity reigned during the early courses; we sat very -straight, watched one another, passed the dishes, ate, and declared -everything divine, exquisite, delicious: that was substantially the -whole of the conversation. I had no desire to enliven it; I was sober, -yes, pensive. Sometimes I glanced at my wife; her eyes were constantly -fixed on her plate. Madame de Pontchartrain's expressed the satisfaction -she felt at the reserved demeanor of the bride and groom; we certainly -could not be charged with acting like two madcaps. - -Upon examining the guests, I found that I had at my right a pretty, -vivacious young blonde, with whom I had several times laughed and joked -when we met in society, so far as laughter was permitted in the circles -that we frequented. I began to talk with her by way of distraction, but -she replied with marked coldness, reserve, and brevity. What did that -mean? Mon Dieu! I had forgotten that I was now a _married man_. I was -still inclined to play the gallant with young ladies, but I had lost my -title of bachelor, which was worth a hundred times more in their eyes -than all the pretty speeches I could make them as a Benedick. - -However, I was determined to amuse myself at any price. I tried to eat; -but I was not hungry. - -"I will drink, then," I said to myself; "but I must take care; a -bridegroom should keep his head clear." - -The dessert came at last; our appetites were a little appeased; the wits -of the party began to shine, the jokers to hazard a bonmot or two or a -very sly remark; the young men tried to laugh, and the women did their -utmost to consider it all very amusing. My sister was in ecstasies; she -did her best to encourage this well-intended merriment. As for -Dneterre, he was so busily engaged in carving, and in looking after the -small table at which his children were sitting with six other children, -that he had no time to put in a word. - -The dessert and liqueurs increased the general hilarity to the highest -point, augmented as it was by divers little pranks on the part of my -nephews, who knocked over two piles of plates, broke three glasses, -overturned sauce on several ladies' dresses, while coming to the large -table to fetch for themselves things that were promised them but that -did not arrive quickly enough to satisfy them. But they knew that on -such a great day they had carte blanche, and they made the most of it. -Everybody agreed that they were dear little fellows, even the ladies who -would have to change their dresses. Their papa and mamma were -enraptured, which was quite natural. - -The signal was given, and we left the table. - -"How is this?" I whispered to my sister; "no song?" - -"You know very well that it isn't good form nowadays, my dear. Is there -singing at the great weddings in Paris?" - -"No; but there is at those where the guests enjoy themselves." - -"We stick to custom." - -"And the garter?" - -"Fie! fie! we have done away with that; it was indecent!" - -"Oh! it was indecent, was it? I see that I must not do at my wedding -party or to my wife anything that the most rigid rules of chastity do -not permit. I trust, however, that you have not suppressed anything -else." - -"Oh! no, brother! besides, I am sure that to-day you have no desire -to----" - -"To what?" - -"Why, to----" - -"To what, in heaven's name? Finish." - -"Why, a desire to--with your wife---- Oh! you know what I mean." - -"The deuce! surely you are joking, my dear girl? Do people no longer -marry for that here? is that suppressed, too?" - -"No, my dear, no! but a man generally leaves his wife in peace the first -day. The poor child has been so excited!" - -"Yes; it is astounding how excited she looks!" - -"You must give her time to recover herself." - -"Go to the deuce, my dear Amlie, with all your nonsense! What is the -meaning of all this affectation? as if it must not come to that at last! -I don't like this prudery which denotes dissimulation pure and simple. I -know by experience that those who cry scandal the loudest are the ones -who in secret have the least virtue. The modesty of rakes and kept women -is much more easily shocked than that of virtuous men and decent women. -Fans hide more prostitutes than virgins, and veils are worn from -coquetry, not from modesty; in short, those who make so much fuss and -hang back at first are the ones who jump the highest afterward." - -"Well, you are free to do as you please, brother." - -"That is very fortunate!" - -Poor Amlie! how she had changed since she had been living in that -paltry town! So this was the banquet at which we were to laugh so loud -and have so much sport! For my own part--and I have been to many -weddings--I confess that the merriest are those of honest folk who are -not afraid of violating etiquette and the proprieties every moment. -Commend me to the poor people for real enjoyment! But I realized that on -this occasion I must say with the song: - - "When we are beggars, then we'll make merry!" - -My wife disappeared. Ah, yes! to dress for the ball--that was it. I had -nothing to say against that custom; in any event, I should have been -careful not to say it; I should have had all the young women about my -ears. Two dresses, sometimes three--that was one of the pretty customs -of that day. - -We returned to Madame de Pontchartrain's for the ball. It was the first -time that I had ever seen wedding festivities divided between two -places; but I found that I learned many things at Melun. - -We assembled in the salon, which was lighted by candelabra that must -have done duty in the time of King Pepin le Bref. The guests invited for -the ball arrived in a swarm; no one ever dreams of missing a fte in a -small town. The bride appeared in her ball dress, which was in very good -taste. I looked at her, but her eyes were still _in statu quo_. I -ventured to say to her, under my breath: - -"Do lift your eyes a little; you have such lovely eyes!" - -"Aunt told me not to." - -That was all I could extort from her. I had nothing to say to that; it -would have been ill-advised for me to play the master so soon. - -The orchestra began to play; we had two violins and a clarinet; also a -little fifer, to imitate Colinet; it was superb--at all events, it was -the best that could be had in the town. They played contradances that I -had never heard in Paris. I surmised that they were composed by the -leader of the local orchestra; it was impossible to make the mistake of -confusing them with those of Rubner, Weber, and Tolbecque. - -There was plenty of dancing; and in that amusement the pleasure was not -feigned, for youth loves to caper. The young men disputed with one -another the privilege of dancing with the bride, who was always engaged -for fourteen or fifteen quadrilles ahead. The groom's turn never comes -on such occasions; but on his wedding day he is easily consoled, and a -thing that would have distressed him terribly the day before makes no -difference to him when he is married. How a title changes one's way of -feeling and of looking at things! - -I too danced; I was very glad to have that resource to occupy my time, -and I was as persistent as my wife. - -"Do take a little rest," some young man would say to me; "you'll tire -yourself out." - -But I paid no heed, for I thought less than they did of what I still had -to do. - -Toward the end of the evening, however, I danced with Plagie; the ball -had warmed her up a little: her cheeks were flushed and her bosom rose -and fell more rapidly; she was really very pretty, and I ought to have -deemed myself very lucky to possess so many charms. I began to look at -my watch and to think that the time passed very slowly. - -But it was growing late, and many people had already taken leave. It was -one o'clock in the morning! a big slice taken off the night. Madame de -Pontchartrain made a sign to my sister, and they led my wife away. I -divined the meaning of that, and I waited until I might be allowed to -join Plagie. - -The ceremony seemed to me very long! Not until three-quarters of an hour -had passed did Amlie return and motion to me that at last I was at -liberty to go to my wife. - -All the guests departed; I did the same; fleeing from the jests that -bored me to death, I left the ballroom and bent my steps toward the wing -which I was to occupy thenceforth. - -I was directed to my bedroom; I had been careful to take a light, -otherwise I should have broken my neck in some of the innumerable rooms -of that old house, and the time would have been very ill chosen for an -accident. I saw a light--that must be the place. I opened a door and -entered a very handsome bedroom, furnished somewhat _ l'antique,_ but -provided with everything. Two wax candles were burning on the mantel; I -recognized several articles of mine on a table, for my sister had taken -pains to have all my wardrobe transported to my new abode. I was at -home; so far, so good. To make sure of not being disturbed, I bolted the -door, then walked toward the bed, the curtains of which were drawn--from -bashfulness, of course. - -I heard no sound. Could she be asleep already? or was she pretending to -be? I drew the curtains aside, and I saw no one in the bed, which had -not been disturbed. - -What did that mean? I was certainly in my apartment--everything that I -found there proved it. In that case, where could my wife be? Did it mean -that we were to have a bedroom each? Why, of course; and that was why -they hoped that I would leave my wife in peace. "The devil take them -with their nonsensical customs!" thought I.--If I had only known it -sooner! However, I wanted my wife; I was determined to have her, I must -have her. I had not married a pretty doll who never opened her mouth and -kept her eyes on the ground all day to be alone at night and occupy a -separate bed; the least I could expect was some little compensation for -the ennui I had suffered.--I would sleep with my wife--that was my -resolution--even though I must turn the whole house upside down to -attain that end. - -I reflected first of all that my wife's room could not be far from mine. -I concluded to try to find it, and to avoid making a noise if possible; -for that would cause scandal in the household of Madame de -Pontchartrain, who thought perhaps that I had married her niece to -obtain the right to make love to her at those innocent parlor games. - -I looked about and discovered a door which I had not noticed at first. I -took a candle, opened the door, and found myself in a fine salon. That -was very well; I continued my inspection of my suite. There was a door -facing me; where did that lead? Into a dining room. Another door opened -into a passageway; I went on and found a toilet room freshly painted; -all very pleasant, but not what I was looking for at that moment. - -I returned to the salon. Whither did that other door lead? To my wife's -room, no doubt; since I had been prowling about the salon as if I were -playing hide-and-seek, I must have passed it many times. I tried to open -it by turning the knob, but it resisted; it was locked on the inside. No -more doubt: my wife was there, and had been advised to lock herself in. -Ah! what sly creatures they were in that country! - -I knocked--no answer. I knocked again, louder. - -"Who is there?" someone asked at last; and I recognized Plagie's voice. - -"It's I, my dear love." - -"Oh! is it you, monsieur my husband?" - -"Yes, my dear; come, let me in quickly." - -"What for?" - -"Parbleu! I'll tell you in a minute. Open the door." - -"Oh! I can't!" - -"You can't! what does that mean? that's decidedly new!" - -"My aunt told me not to." - -"Your aunt doesn't know what she says. As she has been a widow -thirty-three years, perhaps she has forgotten that husbands and wives -sleep together." - -"Oh, yes! I know that you will sleep with me finally; but she told me -that modesty requires me to postpone the time as long as possible." - -"And I tell you that we must sleep together at once; modesty has nothing -more to do with our love; hymen has its rights, and you must listen to -it now; the pleasures it permits should not alarm your modesty." - -"I don't understand all that." - -"I will make you understand it when I am with you. Open the door, I beg -you. I can't begin to instruct you with this door between us." - -"I'm afraid that my aunt----" - -"Look you, madame, I am your husband, after all; you swore this morning -to be obedient and submissive to me, and you are violating your oaths -already! Come, Plagie, I beg you, let's not begin with a quarrel; open -the door at once; if you don't, I'll set the house on fire." - -"Oh! mon Dieu!" - -She opened the door instantly; she was in her chemise and hurried back -to hide herself in her bed; but it was easy for me to find her now. I -still had a few obstacles to overcome; but they were not at all -disagreeable; indeed, I should have been very much distressed if I had -not encountered them! On this occasion the rose was not without thorns. - -Let us draw the curtain over the mysteries of hymen, although they are -one of Polichinelle's secrets. - - - - -XXXII - -RETURN TO PARIS - - -The first days of married life are called the honeymoon. But the only -honey I enjoyed was a grand row with Madame de Pontchartrain on the day -after my wedding, because she perceived by her heavy eyes, her gait, in -fact, by a thousand symptoms which never escape a dowager's glance, that -I had already plucked the rose of hymen. She went so far as to reproach -me, to accuse me of immodesty, brutality, a purely animal passion, and -declared that I wanted to kill her niece. It would have required the -patience of a cherub to listen unmoved to such nonsense; and as I am no -angel, I sent our aunt about her business; I forbade her to meddle in my -affairs thereafter, and especially enjoined upon her to refrain from -offering advice to my wife. Madame de Pontchartrain shrieked and stormed -and raved; I withdrew to my apartment; and there we were at swords' -point! - -Old women are great talkers, and the dear aunt was spiteful and -vindictive in addition. Instead of trying to forget that scene, she -thought only of revenging herself for what she called my base conduct. -On the next day, the whole town knew that I was a hot-tempered, -ungentlemanly libertine, and that I had begun already to make my wife -very unhappy. - -However, my sister, who knew me and loved me, made haste to contradict -all the rumors that the old aunt put in circulation to my discredit; she -fell out with Madame de Pontchartrain, because she did not share her way -of looking at things. In the town, some believed the aunt, others my -sister; opinions were divided; it would almost have split the community -into two hostile camps, except that they were generally agreed as to the -main point, that is, the pleasure of making unkind remarks and the love -of scandal. - -I was very little disturbed by what the people of Melun thought and said -of me, but I was deeply interested in my wife, and I was desirous that -she should not agree with her aunt. - -Plagie found herself in an embarrassing position: her aunt told her not -to listen to me, and I told her not to listen to her aunt, who did all -that she could to induce her to come often to her apartments, while I -did my best to prevent her going there. Madame de Pontchartrain told -Plagie that she ought to command, to force me to obey her--in a word, -to be the mistress; while I tried to make her understand that when a -woman can do nothing but play parlor games, dance, embroider, and sing -ballads, she ought to call in her husband to assist her in managing her -household. - -All this frequently threw my wife into a state of painful uncertainty. I -had been her husband only a few days, and her aunt had been her mentor -from infancy. She was afraid of her, and I should have been very sorry -to arouse such a feeling with respect to myself. The result was that she -obeyed her aunt rather than me; and that had already brought about -several of those little _discussions_ which I desired to avoid. If -Plagie had had any wit or judgment, she would have felt that her aunt -was wrong. But, alas! she had nothing of the sort; and dullards are much -harder to lead than bright people. I hoped that she would acquire those -qualities, and that, having her eyes opened in regard to a certain -matter, she would become less stupid with regard to others; but I was -beginning to lose that hope. - -There was one point, however, upon which we were in accord: that was our -right to sleep together. As to that, Plagie was entirely of my opinion; -she no longer dreamed of having a separate bed, and was never tempted to -lock her door. I would have bet that it would be so; these little -innocents!--when they are once started, nothing will stop them! - -I had no desire to remain at Melun; but before taking my wife to Paris, -it was necessary that I should have lodgings prepared for her reception. -I could not take her to my little bachelor apartment; it was not -suitable for us, nor did I wish her to know anything about it. - -To find suitable lodgings, have them furnished and put in order, and -engage servants, would detain me in Paris at least a week; and if I -should leave my wife in her aunt's power for a week, God only knew in -what frame of mind I should find her when I returned! An hour passed -with Madame de Pontchartrain always caused a quarrel between Plagie and -me. When she left her aunt, who had persuaded her that she ought not to -listen to me, she made it her business to do just the opposite of what I -told her, to tease me and make me angry; it was extremely difficult for -me to bring her back to other ideas and to make her realize her errors. -If she should pass a week without seeing me, it would be impossible for -us to live together. - -What was to be done? I did not propose to live in the province any -longer; I was beginning to have my fill of it, and I felt that if I were -obliged to live there I should die. - -My sister saw my plight; and despite her desire to have me settle down -in her vicinity, as she saw that I did not enjoy the pleasures of -wedlock as I ought at Melun, she offered to send Dneterre to Paris, to -prepare an apartment for me. I accepted her offer gratefully; and my -brother-in-law set off, with full instructions from me. - -I prayed that he might return very soon. The time seemed terribly long -to me. I was obliged to remain constantly with my wife; and to be always -in the company of a person who has nothing to say, who often does not -understand what you say to her--what torture! - -At first I had hopes; the nights were some slight recompense; but hope -soon vanished, and even the nights sometimes seemed wearisome to me. Ah! -then I realized what a trivial thing mere beauty is! We become -accustomed to everything, to an ugly face as well as a lovely one; but -when, with the lovely face, we find no sustenance for the mind or heart; -when a little mouth is mute or says only foolish things; when two great -eyes have no expression; when the smile is always the same; when the -voice expresses no feeling--then there is nothing to do but yawn and -fall asleep beside that little chef-d'oeuvre of nature. - -But when we listen to some attractive person, who has the power to -describe what she feels, whose eyes and voice are equally eloquent, who -charms us by her thoughts and attracts us by her conversation, do we pay -any heed to her ugliness? No, we forget it; more than that, it actually -disappears, and the face that repelled us at first becomes agreeable to -us. - - "Are men of great minds ever ugly?" - -Doubtless beauty combined with wit aids materially in seducing us; but -if we can have only one of the two, I am sure that in marrying we should -not set great store by externals. That one should take a pretty -mistress, without bothering one's head as to her mental powers, is -perfectly natural; one can leave her as soon as she becomes a bore. But -a wife! a companion for the rest of one's life! what a difference! I -know there are many husbands who spend less time with their wives than -with their mistresses; but I am not speaking for their benefit. When I -married, I intended to have a happy home, not to leave my wife and run -after other women; and yet, as you will see, that was what I was obliged -to do. - -Dneterre had been away twelve days, and still he did not return. Madame -de Pontchartrain, who knew that I proposed to take my wife to Paris, was -more savage than ever; she tried every day to play some fresh trick on -me; she watched for her niece as the cat watches for the mouse; and -whenever she saw her, she inflamed her against me. All my time was -occupied in defeating her little plots; we played _Guerre ouverte_ in -the house, and that afforded me a little distraction. - -By dint of slandering me, the old lady had come to believe a portion of -her slanders; and if by chance I went to some reception, which very -rarely happened, I was conscious that a confused, incessant muttering -and whispering began as soon as I appeared. Some looked at me, others -turned their heads away; the old dowagers and the mothers, who were hot -partisans of Madame de Pontchartrain, lost no time in moving away from -me; there were some who even made a gesture of alarm at my approach, as -if I were plague-stricken. - -I laughed at all this with the sensible, reasonable people; but they -were not in the majority; besides, it is much easier to speak unkindly -than kindly of a person; it would seem that faults are apparent to every -eye, and that good qualities keep out of sight. - -At last Dneterre returned. My apartment was waiting for me on Boulevard -Montmartre; I could occupy it at once; everything was ready for my wife -and myself, and our servants were engaged. - -I did not propose to delay. I urged Plagie to hurry with her trunks and -boxes and bundles. She seconded me warmly enough; I believe that at -heart she was not sorry to escape from her aunt's authority, and to see -new places. And such places! Paris! the paradise of womankind! and the -hell of---- Great heaven! I forgot that I was one myself! - -It was all over; I had bid my sister, her husband, and my nephews adieu. -Plagie went to take leave of her aunt, for I would not have her fail in -courtesy toward her. Madame de Pontchartrain refused to allow her niece -to go; I was obliged to go after her. She declared that I had no right -to take her away, and tried to detain her by force. I was compelled to -abduct my wife; the old aunt pursued us to the front door and threatened -to come to Paris after us. But I knew that she would not; people do not -play boston in the morning there. - -We started; and in my delight I kissed my wife! It was just six weeks -since my wedding, and five months since I had left Paris. - -At last I saw it again, that splendid city, and I exclaimed: - - "Hail! city of uproar, and of mud and smoke!" - -I prefer thy uproar to the gossip and scandal and petty malignity of the -provinces; thy mud to the grass that grows in the untrodden streets of a -small provincial town; and thy smoke to those solid pleasures--which I -have failed to find elsewhere. - - - - -XXXIII - -RAYMOND REAPPEARS - - -The new apartment, in which we installed ourselves at once, was large, -convenient, and well arranged. I noticed that there was a room adjoining -my study, where I could easily have a bed placed in case my wife should -be indisposed and should prefer to sleep alone; for it is well to -anticipate everything. - -We had two servants, a maid and a cook; those were all that we needed. I -had neither horses nor intrigues, consequently I had no occasion for the -services of a Frontin or a Lafleur, who, having nothing to do, would be -driven to emptying my wine cellar, seducing my maid-servants, and -robbing me, to pass the time away. - -During the first fortnight after our arrival in Paris, my wife did not -give me a moment's rest; I had to take her everywhere: to drive, to the -theatre, to concerts, to the monuments and curiosities of every sort. -She compelled me to go all over the city with her in the mornings, being -determined to become acquainted with every quarter. She was never weary -of gazing in admiration at the Palais-Royal, and she would stand by the -half-hour in front of milliners' and dry goods shops; she was in -ecstasies, in the seventh heaven!--All the people, the noise, the -vehicles, the beautiful dresses, the young men who, on the fashionable -promenades and at the theatres, ogle women so respectfully and make such -pretty grimaces to those who meet their approval--all these fascinated -Madame Dorsan, who began to lift her eyes and even to flash some very -innocent little glances therefrom. Oh! as for that, I was sure it would -come. - -I knew Paris by heart; I got a little tired of parading through the -streets every day; still, a husband should be obliging. Thank heaven! -the time came when there was nothing more to see unless we began over -again; which my wife would not have been sorry to do; but I needed rest. -Moreover, she discovered that a young wife could without impropriety go -out alone in the morning; she knew our quarter very well, and I saw that -she would make the most of the liberty I gave her. - -At last I could breathe freely. I was tired to death of plays, driving, -and questions; I was delighted to be alone. I had as yet had no time to -visit my little apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. If my wife had known -that I had a bachelor apartment, if her aunt had learned of it, I should -have been adjudged guilty of carrying on secret intrigues. But I had no -desire for anything of the sort; never again would I take any woman to -my former lodgings. I wished that I had never taken one there. - -There was one spot which I longed yet dreaded to pass. While escorting -my wife about Paris, I had always managed to avoid taking her there. -Why? I had no very clear idea; but I wanted to go there first alone; I -should be more at liberty to stop; I should find my friend the messenger -there, and perhaps I might---- But, no; I would not question him; what -need had I to do it now? - -My wife was asleep; it was only eight o'clock, and we did not breakfast -until ten; I had time to go out for a moment. I proposed to visit my -former lodgings; I walked in that direction, but it was also the -direction in which Nicette lived. Passing through Rue Saint-Honor, I -had not the strength to resist the secret longing that impelled me -toward the flower shop. I walked very fast at first, but the nearer I -approached it, the more I slackened my pace. I did not intend to go in, -nor did I intend to speak to her; but I felt that I would like to see -her. - -I saw the shrubs standing in front of the shop; I crossed the street in -order not to be on the same side. If I should pass close to her, she -might speak to me, and I knew that at the sound of her voice I should -stop in spite of myself. - -I made up my mind at last to pass, and I walked very quickly, just -glancing across. But I did not see her; I saw a woman with an ordinary -face--oh! not in the least like Nicette. Thereupon I crossed over and -walked by the shop; she was not there. I turned, walked back, and -stopped, pretending to examine the flowers. The woman came to me and -asked: - -"Does monsieur wish to buy something?" - -"No, no!" I said, and walked away toward my messenger's stand; I was -impatient to question him. But he was not there; I waited nearly an -hour, and at last he came; he recognized me at once. - -"Your servant, monsieur; if I'd known you was here---- It's a long time -since I saw you, monsieur." - -"That is true; and during that time?" - -"Bless me! there's been lots of changes; the pretty flower girl ain't -there any more." - -"She isn't?" - -"No, monsieur; she sold her stock to Mre Thomas, who you see yonder in -her place." - -"She sold her stock?" - -"Yes, monsieur, and sold it well, too; for it's a good shop. But they -say Mamzelle Nicette didn't need it, because she'd made her -fortune--come into money." - -"And where is she now?" - -"Bless my soul! monsieur, I don't know; she didn't say where she was -going, and we don't never see her now." - -"And that man who used to come to see her every day?" - -"Why! he kep' on coming, but not so often toward the end." - -"Did he take her away?" - -"I don't know nothing about it, monsieur; but I'm inclined to think she -sold her stock of her own accord." - -"When was that?" - -"Why, near six weeks ago." - -"And you don't know where she's gone?" - -"No, monsieur." - -I paid the messenger and walked away; it was useless to question him any -further. Nicette had left her shop; what had become of her? what was she -doing? was she living with Raymond? That seemed impossible. Could he -have hired an apartment for her? I did not know what to think, but I -hastened to Rue Saint-Florentin. - -My concierge uttered a cry of surprise when she saw me. - -"Ah! there you are, monsieur! We really thought you must be dead! Do you -know you've been away almost six months?" - -"I know it, Madame Dupont. Give me my keys, please." - -"In a minute, monsieur, in a minute. I've taken good care of your rooms, -I've had your furniture beaten every month, and I've scrubbed and----" - -"Oh! I'm not at all disturbed. By the way, does Monsieur Raymond still -live on my landing?" - -"No, monsieur, no; he's left, and in his place----" - -"Do you know his address?" - -"Yes, monsieur; he left it here; he lives now on Rue Pinon, near the -Opra, No.---- Oh, dear! I've forgotten, but it will come to me. Here's -your keys, monsieur." - -"And that number, Madame Dupont?" - -"It's surprising; I knew it just the other day. But it ain't a long -street." - -"That's very lucky." - -"Oh! wait a minute! I forgot, it was so long ago! I've got a letter for -you; it's been here six weeks." - -"A letter!" - -"Yes. A young woman brought it." - -"A woman! give it to me, pray." - -"Here it is, monsieur." - -I took the letter and hastened upstairs to my room, to escape the -concierge's chatter. Once more I was in that dear apartment! how glad I -was to be there! But the letter! It seemed to me that the writing--ah! I -dared not hope--I broke the seal; it was she--Nicette--who had written -to me! - - "MONSIEUR: - - "It's a long time since you came to see me, and I didn't know why - you had abandoned me; you seemed to be angry the last time you - spoke to me, and I thought you were angry with me, but I couldn't - guess why. To-day I have heard that you are married; I know that - you can't think of me any more, or speak to a flower girl. I take - the liberty of writing to you only to say good-bye. I am going to - sell my shop and go away to some place where I can be alone, not - see anybody, and cry all I want to; for I am very unhappy, and I - can't get over it; it isn't my fault. I have inherited a lot of - money from my mother and an aunt who's left me all she had, and I - have more than enough to live on. But I don't forget that I owe you - everything, that you took pity on me when everybody else abandoned - me, and saved me from want. I shall never forget it! Adieu, - monsieur! I wish you every happiness in your home; may your wife - make you happy! she must love you dearly! Adieu, my dear - benefactor! - - "NICETTE." - -I read the letter several times. I could not help putting my lips to the -characters she had traced. Was that the language of a deceitful woman? -And yet I saw--saw with my own eyes Raymond sitting beside her, holding -her hands. I knew that he saw her every day; he himself told me so; but -could I place any faith in what Raymond said? Ah! if I had not seen him -with her! - -But why torment myself so? Was she not lost to me forever? was I not -married? It did not occur to me to be false to my wife, but I longed to -know whether Nicette loved me! I resolved to find Raymond and to try to -make him talk; that was not difficult, but to make him tell the truth -was no easy task. - -It was late, and as my wife might be disturbed by my absence I returned -to her, but with the firm intention to visit my old lodgings again, and -often. - -I carefully folded Nicette's letter and took it away with me when I left -my bachelor apartment for my home. - -Who could have told Nicette that I was married? My concierge did not -know it; if she had, she would surely have mentioned it to me. It must -have been Raymond. But how did he know? I was considering this question -as I approached my house, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned -and saw Raymond! Never, I must confess, had the sight of him afforded me -so much pleasure. - -"Well! here you are, my dear fellow!" - -"Good-morning, Monsieur Raymond!" - -"So you're in Paris now, eh?" - -"As you see." - -"Dear Dorsan! it seems a century since I saw you!" - -"I assure you that I too am very glad to see you." - -"Really? such an excellent friend! By the way, accept my -congratulations; I understand that you have made a magnificent marriage, -that you have a divine wife!" - -"Oho! you know that, do you?" - -"Yes; one of my friends, who happened to be at Melun, told me; you must -have met him in society--Monsieur Regnier?" - -"Yes, I believe I do remember him." - -"Well! it was he who told me the whole story. Ah! I was almost angry -with you.--'What!' I said to myself; 'my dear Dorsan, my friend, is -married, and doesn't let me know! me, who am so interested in his -welfare!' Oh! it was very ill done of you!" - -"You are too kind, really; but my wife is expecting me, and I cannot -stay any longer. And yet, I should be glad to talk with you. Won't you -breakfast with me?" - -"Won't I!" - -"I will introduce you to my wife." - -"I shall be enchanted to make her acquaintance." - -Raymond accompanied me home; he seemed delighted by the cordiality of my -greeting, especially as it was so unusual. He did not suspect that my -eager desire to talk with him was due to the fact that he alone could -tell me about Nicette, where she was and what she was doing. But I felt -that I must be prudent and not question him too abruptly; otherwise, he -would divine my sentiments, and it was more necessary than ever that I -should force them back into the depths of my heart. - -When we reached the house, I found that my wife was not anxious about -me, for she was breakfasting without me. I presented Raymond, who -confounded himself in compliments and high-flown praise which must have -bored Plagie; but women of little intellect often attach the greatest -value to compliments; with such women one can make one's self most -agreeable with commonplace remarks, and in that respect Raymond was well -endowed. - -The conversation, therefore, was confined to the pleasures of Paris, and -the sensation that such a woman as my wife must cause in society; for -Raymond always came back to that; he could not understand how a woman -who had always lived in the provinces could be so pretty and have such -distinguished manners; he was inexhaustible, but I breakfasted without -listening to him. As for Plagie, having learned that she might smile at -another man than her husband, she smiled at each of Raymond's -compliments, which gave her a chance to show her teeth. - -I saw that I could not mention Nicette that morning; my wife did not -leave the room; so I must needs be patient. - -"Where do you live?" I asked Raymond. - -"Rue Pinon, No. 2. I have left my old lodgings; you had ceased to be my -neighbor, and they had lost all their charm." - -"I mean to come to see you." - -"Oh! don't put yourself to that trouble; a bachelor is seldom at home; I -will come to see you, with your permission, and pay my respects to -madame now and then." - -"You will gratify us." - -"But I must leave you now; I have three appointments for this morning. I -have so many acquaintances! and not a moment to myself! Adieu, my dear -friend!--Madame, I lay at your feet the homage that your charms -deserve." - -And Raymond took his leave, well pleased with his last compliment. He -was the same as ever. - -"That gentleman is very pleasant," said Plagie, when he had gone. - -She thought him charming; I was sure that she would. That my wife should -like Raymond did not surprise me; but Nicette! - -I dared not call on Raymond the same day; but the next day I could wait -no longer, and I went to see him. He was not in; he had already gone -out. - -"Does he live alone?" I asked the concierge. - -"Yes, monsieur; all alone." - -I went away; I would have liked to know more, but I was almost sure that -Nicette did not live with him. I left my name with the concierge, so -that Raymond might know that I had been to see him; that would bring him -to my house, and perhaps I might be able to speak with him alone. - -He did not fail to come the next day. He was extraordinarily touched by -my kindness in calling on him. He promised to show his attachment for -me by coming often to see me. - -I paid little heed to all the pretty things he said to me; I was vexed -because my wife did not leave us. How could I find an opportunity to -talk of Nicette? Parbleu! I would ask Raymond to dine; then I would -suggest that we go to the theatre in the evening; after dinner my wife -would go to dress, and she always spent at least three-quarters of an -hour at her toilet; during that time---- Yes, that would do. - -I invited Raymond to dine with us informally; he grasped my hand and -squeezed it till he made me wince, so pleased was he with my kindness; I -read in his eyes that he could not understand it. Certainly he must have -found me considerably changed. Doubtless he concluded that it was the -effect of marriage. - -The dinner was fairly cheerful; Raymond's conversation never flagged. -Formerly, I was bored to death by his chatter, but it was a distraction -now; for I was not accustomed to hearing conversation, and I began to -experience satisfaction when anyone relieved me from a tte--tte with -my wife. - -Everything happened as I had foreseen. I proposed the theatre; my -proposition was accepted, my wife went off to dress, and I was alone -with Raymond at last. - -I led the conversation imperceptibly to his conquests. - -"By the way," said I, "what did you do with the little flower girl?" - -"Whom do you mean? little Nicette?" - -"Yes, little Nicette, whom you used to go to make love to every -evening." - -"Oh! it's a long while since that was all over, and I have ceased to -think of her! I have had so many others since!" - -"She was your mistress, then?" - -"Yes, for three or four days; and then I dropped her." - -"Don't you see her now?" - -"Never. I don't even know where she is, for she has left her shop. Oh! -somebody keeps her now, I presume. That little creature had the most -absurd pretensions! she wanted to play the lady, and that sickened me! -When I want a _petite-matresse_, I don't apply to a flower girl. -Everyone should stay where she belongs.--By the way, speaking of -_petites-matresses_, let us speak of your wife. She is really -beautiful! and so amiable, too! and she fairly sparkles with wit! I saw -that at the first glance. Deuce take it! how lucky you are, my dear -fellow!" - -When he began to talk about my wife, I ceased to listen to him. I -thought of what he had told me of Nicette; he declared that she had been -his mistress! could it be true? Ah! if I had not seen him in her shop, I -would have spurned the idea as a ghastly lie. So it was impossible to -find out what had become of her! Perhaps I should never see her again! - -That thought saddened me, and I could not banish it from my mind. My -wife returned, having completed her toilet. Raymond offered her his arm; -I motioned to Plagie to accept it, as it was not customary for a wife -to take her husband's arm when another gentleman offered his. If I had -been in love with my wife, I would have snapped my fingers at such a -custom; but, on the contrary, I was delighted to be able to go by myself -and dream undisturbed. - -Raymond was enchanted to have on his arm a pretty woman who thought that -everything that he said was charming. He went to the play with us, and -carried the whole burden of the conversation. I did what I could to -take part in it and to divert my thoughts; but, in spite of myself, I -kept falling back upon my memories. Luckily, neither of them perceived -it: my wife enjoyed the play and Raymond, and he was in ecstasies over -what he said and what Plagie replied. - -When the play was over, we all went home. Ah! how I longed then for a -separate room! but I dared not suggest it. - -That day gave birth to a depression which I could not overcome. My wife -said nothing, but I was very sure that she found Raymond much more -attractive than me. What idiocy to bind one's self to a person whose -sentiments have nothing in common with one's own! I said that to myself -every day, and every day I spent a little less time with my wife. I left -her to be amused by Raymond's conversation; and I went off to my little -bachelor apartment, to think; often I wrote there, and read, and worked; -I was so comfortable there! I let my thoughts stray back to happier -days; to the days when I used to find bunches of orange blossoms hung at -my door. Ah! how happy I might have been then! but I did not know enough -to appreciate my good fortune. Not until those moments were past and -gone forever did I realize all their worth! and when I left my little -apartment to go back to the other, I regretted them more keenly than -ever. - - - - -XXXIV - -I SHOULD HAVE FORESEEN IT - - -Whether we are sad or merry, happy or wretched, rich or poor, the Fates -spin the web of our days none the less. Mine was no longer of silk and -gold; but still the days passed; they seemed longer to me than if I had -been happy; that was all the difference, and therein people who are fond -of life should find some compensation; for years of sorrow count double. - -I had been married only a year, and I had already acquired all the ways -of an old married man. I did not go out with my wife in the morning; she -knew Paris as well as I did, and no longer needed my company; she went -out to pay visits, to make purchases, or to walk; I either worked at -home or went my own way. We almost always had someone to dinner, very -frequently Raymond, who had become the friend of the family. It was not -that I liked him any better than formerly; no, I did not look upon him -as a friend in the least degree; but he had become necessary to me, he -diverted my thoughts, he went about with my wife; he was always at our -service if we needed him to take part in a game or to do an errand; he -was really extremely obliging. Lastly, he had known Nicette, he was the -only person with whom I could talk of her now and then; that reason -alone was sufficient to lead me to seek his society. And yet, it was to -him that I owed a part of my sorrow; but he had rendered me a service by -showing Nicette to me as she really was. If she had listened to him, -she must have listened to many others! In a word, his presence was often -painful to me, and yet I constantly sought it--I always hoped that he -would contradict what he had told me about her. - -As for my wife, she could not do without Raymond; he was with her almost -every evening, while I went to my little bachelor apartment. They played -together; Raymond played the flute a little, and my wife the piano; they -both sang also. Raymond was an inferior musician, and my wife was never -in time; together, they considered themselves very fine. And then, -Raymond had a supply of compliments and gallant phrases which delighted -my wife, who had plenty of self-esteem and coquetry, and loved to be -told that she turned all the men's heads and that she was as witty as a -demon. - -I confess that I had never been able to tell my wife that she had -overmuch wit. Indeed, I had long since ceased to tell her that she was -pretty; it seemed superfluous to me; I had told her so when I was -courting her, and I could not keep saying the same thing forever. Such -talk seems to me most futile; a husband and wife ought to prove their -love to each other without having to pay each other compliments. But -Plagie, who did not know what to reply when you talked to her on a -subject of real interest, knew enough to smile at flattery; and Raymond -declared that her smile said many things. If I attempted to talk -sensibly with her, she yawned; thereupon I left her, only too glad when -Raymond was there to take my place. - -I was wrong, perhaps, in allowing my wife to do whatever she chose; but -how would it have served me to put restraint upon her, to restrict her -in the gratification of her tastes? It would have made us both unhappy. -We married without love, and we were not made to live together. My wife -was bored when alone with me, and I did not enjoy being with her. When I -tried to talk sensibly to her, to urge her to give a little more time to -her housekeeping instead of thinking solely of gewgaws and dress and -pleasure, then Plagie would weep and say that her aunt was justified in -calling me a tyrant! What reply could I make to that?--none at all! I -cannot bear to see a woman weep. If I had no love for my wife, I did not -choose that she should have cause to complain of my treatment; so I -allowed her to buy whatever gave her pleasure, and to go to all the -balls and festivities to which she was invited. Plagie spent on -dresses, jewels, cabs, and trifles much more than she brought me; but I -held my tongue, to avoid little _discussions_. I was determined to do my -best to keep the peace, at all events. - -Perhaps I should not have left her so often to listen to the whispering -of dandies and the soft speeches of salon seducers; but, in truth, it -was impossible for me to be jealous. Moreover, my mind was at ease on -that score; Plagie had been brought up very strictly; she was -high-principled, and her manners were so modest and bashful! To be sure, -she no longer kept her eyes on the floor, and even played the coquette a -bit; but I was none the less confident of her fidelity. And then, too, -the young men who paid court to her in society never came to my house; I -seldom had any male guest except Raymond; and faith! if a man must -torment himself in anticipation, his mind would never be at rest. - -I hoped to have children; I would have loved them dearly; I would have -looked after their education, and it would have been a great joy to me. -But I had not had that satisfaction, and the greatest pleasure I knew -was to go to my little apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. There I seemed -to be a different man; I fancied myself still a bachelor. In that house -nobody knew that I was married; but I never slept there, and my -concierge must have thought that I was leading a strange life; I paid -her generously, however, and she indulged in no comments. Indeed, who in -the house had any reason to complain of me? I took nobody there, I made -no noise, I spoke to nobody, and I did not even know who occupied -Raymond's apartment on my landing. - -For some time past, my wife had been going more frequently than ever to -balls and parties which lasted far into the night. I am no foe to -gayeties, but I was afraid that her excessive indulgence in them would -injure her health. I reproved her mildly, and she answered sharply; a -dispute arose, and madame, who had taken a tone which was entirely new -to her, and which surprised me in a woman who had always seemed so -timid,--in the modest Plagie,--put an end to the discussion by -announcing that she proposed to have a separate room, so that she might -be more at liberty. - -I asked nothing better. I had a bed put in the room adjoining my study, -which was separated from my wife's bedroom by the salon, the reception -room, and a small music room. I took possession of my new quarters that -same evening. Raymond, being informed of the new arrangement, said that -it was an excellent idea, and that it was all that we needed to make a -most charming household. - -Plagie spent money freely; with the purpose of trying to put a curb on -the follies she was beginning to commit, I began to go into society -with her. It would still have been easy for me to form intrigues, to -make conquests; for a young husband is as warmly greeted in Paris as a -bachelor in the provinces; but I had no inclination for those liaisons -of a moment, for those amourettes which do not touch the heart; I was -faithful, but not amorous. - -Raymond, too, was most constant in his pretended great friendship for -us; often he was obliging enough to bring my wife home when I did not -care to stay so late as she did; and as we no longer slept together, -Madame Dorsan could come in whenever she pleased, and I know nothing -about it. I ceased to say anything to her, for I noticed that she -consistently did just the opposite of what I urged her to do. - -Still, I was afraid that her lungs, which were delicate, would suffer -from such constant late hours. The next time that she was to go to a -ball, I advised her to stay at home; she would not listen to me. I -decided to go with her and to try to induce her to go home early. - -Raymond accompanied us to the festivity in question, which was very -gorgeous and very largely attended. At midnight, satiated with dust and -cart, I urged my wife to retire. - -"What, monsieur!" replied Plagie; "go away at the very pleasantest part -of the evening! Oh! I propose to stay till the end! You can go home to -bed; Monsieur Raymond will bring me home." - -What was one to say to a little woman who seemed so determined? I went -up to Raymond, who anticipated my wishes. - -"My dear fellow, go home if you're tired; I'll bring madame home." - -"Will you? very good; I shall be much obliged." - -I left the house, saying to myself: - -"It's a great mistake to laugh at us poor husbands; for, upon my word, -anyone else in our place would do just as we do." - -I went home and to bed. I slept about three hours; then something, I -know not what, awoke me; doubtless it was written that I should wake. I -pressed the repeater of my watch: three o'clock. I thought that I would -like to know if my wife was at home; ordinarily, I did not disturb -myself about it, but she had a cold which made me anxious about her -health; if she was not more careful of herself, it might become serious; -and, although I did not love her, although she did not make me very -happy, as I was more prudent than she, it was my duty to look after her -health. - -That idea prevented me from going to sleep again; it seemed to me that I -should be more at ease if I were sure that she had come home. Why should -I not go to her room to make sure? I had never done such a thing since -we had slept apart; but my solicitude ought not to offend her; and -besides, I could go there without waking her, and she would not even -know that I had been to see her. I had a duplicate key to her bedroom, -which I had had made when we slept together, so that I could go in -without rousing her; for, in the early days of our marriage, she used to -go to bed before I came home, and always locked herself in because she -was afraid. I had forgotten to give her that key, which lay in my desk; -and she had probably forgotten that I had it. - -I rose and felt my way to the desk, for I kept no light in my room at -night. I found the key, and stole softly from my room to go to my wife. - -I walked noiselessly through the intervening rooms, I was careful not to -make a sound; one would have thought that I was on my way to an -assignation, but it was something very different. When I reached my -wife's door I saw a light through the keyhole.--"Good!" I said to -myself; "she's at home;" and I was about to creep away, when I fancied -that I heard voices. With whom could she be talking? The servants were -always in bed when we came home, as we had our own keys. I listened; I -could not hear very distinctly; but it seemed to me that that -voice--"Parbleu!" I thought; "that would be a strange thing!" A thousand -ideas crowded into my mind. I slipped the key in the lock very softly, -turned it quickly, entered the room, and--saw Raymond in bed with my -wife! - -Surprise held me motionless for an instant. Raymond jumped out of bed -and ran about the room like a madman; he could not find the door, -although there were two. I came to myself and could not resist the -temptation to give him a kick that sent him to the floor. But I soon -regretted my imprudence. To make an uproar--a scandal--to let the whole -household know that I was--I lacked only that!--I put Raymond on his -feet, pushed him out of the room, threw his coat in his face, and even -gave him a light, so that he might not break his neck on the stairs; it -was impossible to be more polite than I was. - -"Until to-morrow!" I said. - -I imagined that he did not hear me; but, no matter; he had gone, and I -returned to my wife. - -She had remained in bed; she did not stir. - -"As you may imagine," I said to her, "I do not propose to publish this -abroad; however, madame, I am not in the humor to continue to live with -you; I may be willing to conceal your misconduct, but I do not choose to -witness any more of it. Henceforth we will live apart, as divorces are -no longer granted, and as we must remain united all our lives by the -laws when we have ceased to be united by any sentiment. It is probable -that the blame will be laid on me; people will say that I have deserted -you after making you unhappy, for so they often judge the acts of -others; but it matters little to me; I leave you everything here; you -have your property, and I have mine; henceforth let there be nothing in -common between us." - -Plagie did not say a single word in reply; indeed, I am inclined to -think that she fell asleep during my speech. I took a candle, closed her -door, and returned to my own room. I intended to go to bed again; but I -felt that I should not be able to sleep. No matter if a man be not in -love or jealous, he cannot see such things as that and remain cool. -Still, I was well content with the coolness I had displayed; except for -the kick administered to Raymond, I had borne myself like a genuine -philosopher; but I felt in the bottom of my heart that one is never a -philosopher in respect to those things which concern self-esteem and -honor. Honor! Ah! Figaro is right when he asks: - -"Where in the devil has honor hidden itself?" - -I decided to pack up my belongings; that would keep me busy, and I -should be able to carry everything away at daybreak, and to leave -forever that woman, to whom I had been married about eighteen months, -and who had already made of me a--but one does not care to speak that -word concerning one's self, although ready enough to apply it to -others. - -This, then, is the result of that happy marriage!--Ah! my dear sister, -why did I hearken to you? Why did I marry a woman who did not love me--a -woman who was not suited to me in any one respect! If we had been happy -together, if I had enjoyed being with her, if I had not left her so much -to her own resources, perhaps it would not have happened! - -So that young innocent, that Agns, that little simpleton, had betrayed -me after only eighteen months! Perhaps it had been going on a long while -already; and once more it was Raymond who---- But, in truth, I should -have foreseen it; it was certain to happen. - -"But," I said to myself, "this will be your last escapade, Monsieur -Raymond; to-morrow I will call upon you with a pair of pistols, which I -will load myself." - -The day was beginning to break; I went down into the street, ordered a -messenger to go to my room with me, gave him all my goods and chattels -to carry, and bade adieu to my home. Thenceforth I would resume my -bachelor life. - -I had my bundles carried to my old apartment. Ah! how rejoiced I was -that I had kept it! It was as if I had divined that I should return to -it some day. Madame Dupont stared at my bundles. - -"Does this mean that monsieur is going to sleep in his room now?" she -asked slyly. - -"Yes, Madame Dupont; after this I am going to live as I used to." - -That business completed, I took my weapons and went to Raymond's -apartment. - -"Where are you going, monsieur?" inquired the concierge, when she saw me -hurrying upstairs. - -"To Monsieur Raymond's." - -"Why, monsieur, didn't you know that he'd gone away?" - -"What's that? gone away?" - -"To be sure; he didn't sleep here; he took his things away during the -night, paid his quarter's rent, and told me to sell his furniture, -saying that he'd send someone for the money after a while. I don't know -what had happened to him, but he seemed so confused that at first I -thought he'd gone mad; he was in such a hurry that he didn't take time -to pack the most necessary things. And then he rushed off without -telling me where he was going." - -"The coward! Woe to him if I ever meet him! But he is quite capable of -having left Paris!" - -I left Raymond's concierge in open-mouthed amazement and returned to Rue -Saint-Florentin, to arrange my little apartment with a view to resuming -my former habits. - - - - -XXXV - -MY NEIGHBOR - - -After a few days I recovered my tranquillity; even my spirits, which I -had lost, seemed to return with me to my old lodgings; sometimes I -fancied that I was still a bachelor; in truth, the best thing for me to -do, now that I had no wife, was to forget that I was married. - -As I had foreseen, I was the one at whom the stones were thrown; I -received a letter from my sister, who informed me that it was a -frightful thing to have deserted my wife; that we simply must be -reconciled; that Madame de Pontchartrain was furious, and that Plagie -was constantly asking her for money. In reply, I wrote my sister an -exact account of what had happened, begging her to keep it secret. I -knew that she would not, but I did not care if the good people of Melun -knew that I was a cuckold; I had no desire to go back there. - -In my old lodgings I resumed my former mode of life, save for its -follies, in which I no longer indulged; indeed, it was necessary for me -to lead an orderly, economical life; for my dear wife was running -through her fortune very rapidly, and I foresaw that she would soon have -recourse to me, and that I should be obliged to make her an allowance. - -I congratulated myself on the perfect tranquillity that I enjoyed in my -house; I realized that Raymond was no longer my neighbor. I should have -been glad to find him, however; but I searched Paris for him in vain; he -must have left the city. - -Apropos of neighbors, I began to wonder who lived on my landing. I had -never seen anybody go in or out; it was clearly some person of very -sedentary habits. I was not curious; still, one likes to know who lives -so near one. Madame Dupont would tell me. - -My concierge continued to do my housework; when she came one morning as -usual, she was delighted to find me inclined to converse a little. - -"I believe you told me, Madame Dupont, that the rooms Monsieur Raymond -used to occupy are let?" - -"Certainly they are, monsieur; they weren't vacant a week; somebody -hired 'em right away." - -"I never happen to see a living soul go in or out; I never hear a -sound." - -"Oh! the tenant's a very quiet party, never goes out, never has any -callers; it's all right, but I don't believe she has a very exciting -time." - -"It's a woman, is it?" - -"Yes, monsieur--and as to respectability and morals--oh! there's nothing -to be said." - -"Is she an old woman?" - -"Not by any means, monsieur; she's a young woman--very young." - -"Oho! and pretty?" - -"Yes, very pretty--as well as I can see under the big bonnet she always -wears." - -"What! a young and pretty woman living all alone? no lovers, no -husband?" - -"No one, I tell you! Oh! if anyone came, I should know it." - -"But she must go out sometimes?" - -"In the morning, very early, to buy what she needs; you're still asleep, -that's why you don't meet her. After that, she never stirs from her -room." - -"It's very strange!" - -"I've tried to talk with her now and then; but she won't talk; it's -impossible to get two words out of her. However, as she behaves decently -and pays on the dot, there's nothing to be said. But it seems to me that -people ought to be obliged to let you know who they are." - -I could not help smiling at my concierge's reflection. What she had told -me of my neighbor aroused my curiosity a little, and at first I felt a -desire to know her; but why should I annoy the young woman? she did not -like society; perhaps she had her reasons for avoiding it. I determined -to respect her retirement. - -I had ceased to go into society; I should have run the risk of meeting -my wife or of being beset with disagreeable questions concerning the -cause of our separation; in society, people are so indiscreet that they -always ask, from preference, the most unpleasant questions, and I did -not choose to afford them that pleasure. - -I went to the play, to all the places where one is free from restraint. -Sometimes I caught a glimpse of my wife in a carriage, or in a box at -the theatre with two or three young men; it seemed that she had not -regretted Raymond very deeply, and I was not surprised; she was not so -constituted as to regret anyone. When I saw her in the distance, I -hastened away in the opposite direction; and she did the same; that was -the only thing in which we agreed. - -I prayed that she might not have children now! I should have to be their -father, willy-nilly. How delightful it would be to be presented with a -little family that I must support! - -"You should have gone back to your wife," someone will say; "then you -could have believed that you were the father of your children." - -Thanks; I preferred to live in peace and receive such gifts as my wife -chose to send me. - -I had been a bachelor three months; that time had passed very rapidly, -for ennui never found its way into my little apartment. I had resumed my -books and my music;--music! so soothing to the heart, and so sympathetic -with our joys and our sorrows! Every evening I sat down at my piano and -passed two or three hours there; it seemed to me that Nicette was with -me, that she was listening to me; I dreamed that she still loved me, -that she had never loved anyone else, and I was happy while cajoling -myself thus with chimeras; men are great children who cajole themselves -all their lives. - -Sometimes I forgot the hour; the quiet of the night inclines the heart -to feed on illusions, and I abandoned myself to those illusions that -fascinated me. No one in the house had complained because I played so -late; there was no one above me but maid-servants, whom it did not keep -from sleeping; below was an old annuitant, slightly deaf; so that there -was nobody except my neighbor on the same landing who might be annoyed -by it; but I had asked the concierge if she had said anything about it, -and she said _no_. That woman was absolutely invisible; several times I -had fancied that I heard her door open, and had gone out quickly; for I -confess that I was curious to see her--but her door was already closed. - -She might have passed me again and again, and I should not have noticed -her; but nothing arouses curiosity so keenly as an air of mystery. I -determined to rise very early some morning and try to see her. I made -that resolve at night, but I fell asleep and forgot it. I was not the -man to do sentry duty on the landing, or to stare through the keyhole -ten or fifteen minutes; I left such methods to Raymond. - -I heard nothing more from Melun, and for some time past I had not seen -my wife; she left me in peace. I heard sometimes, from one of those -officious friends whom one meets in spite of one's self, try as one may -to avoid them, that Madame Dorsan was no more prudent in her conduct, -that she had the same mania for balls and dissipation, that her coquetry -increased every day, and a thousand other bits of news no less -agreeable. There were some who advised me to exert my rights and to -apply for an order to have her confined. I thanked them and turned on my -heel; I would swear that the very same people told Plagie that I was a -tyrant, a bear, a wretch unworthy to be the husband of so pretty and -interesting a woman, and that I ought to be put under guardianship. - -In order to avoid meeting my wife, I frequently went into the country, -not in the direction which fashion has made its own, but to those places -where the worthy bourgeois and little grisettes go to amuse themselves; -the little grisettes whom I used to follow! But I had grown wiser; -marriage had _matured_ my head considerably; I might say, had -_embellished_ it. - -On a certain day I felt more content than usual with the world; I went -out on horseback and rode farther than I was accustomed to do. Darkness -overtook me at Vincennes; I urged my horse to a gallop, and returned to -Paris in time to avoid a storm that reminded me of the evening at -Montmorency. - -After taking my horse to the stable, I returned home; I felt tired and -needed rest. I could hardly drag myself up the stairs. I was about to -open the door--but what was it that my hand touched? Could it be? I -dared not believe it, and yet I held the bouquet in my hand. I put it to -my nose, I inhaled its perfume with intoxicating joy. Yes, it was really -a bouquet--in the same place where she used to put them. Ah! it surely -was she who brought that one! who else could have made me that present? -I hurried into the room; I could hardly wait to examine it. When I was -inside and had struck a light, I gazed at that lovely bouquet and kissed -it; it was of orange blossoms, the exact counterpart of those she used -to bring me. Ah! it was she, of course, who sent it to me! But, in that -case, she was in Paris! she still thought of me! she still loved me! - -All these ideas chased one another through my brain; I looked to see if -there was a note in the bouquet--nothing! I went to the door, I looked -in the keyhole and on the floor--nothing! I had only the bouquet; but -that was much! She must have been there; I flew downstairs to question -Madame Dupont. I forgot my fatigue. - -"Has anyone been here to see me?" I asked the concierge. - -"No, monsieur." - -"What! no one has been to ask for me?--a young lady?" - -"I give you my word, monsieur, that I haven't seen anybody who asked for -you, and I haven't been away from my door." - -"Oh! you never see anything! you never used to see her before!" - -"Who, monsieur?" - -"Someone came, all the same, for I found this bouquet on my doorknob." - -"Well, well! that's very funny; somebody must have made a mistake in the -door." - -"Mistake! no, there's no mistake; it was she who came." - -"She! who's she?" - -"Raise the latch, Madame Dupont." - -"What, monsieur! are you going out again now? Wait till the storm has -passed; it's raining bucketsful." - -"Open the door, I tell you!" - -The concierge dared not make any further suggestions. I went out; I had -no idea where I was going, but I was absolutely determined to find out -something about Nicette, to learn where she was. I hurried along the -street, looking all about me--no one! It was a terrible storm. I went -to Rue Saint-Honor, to her former shop; it seemed to me that I might -learn something by going to the place where she used to live; but the -shop was closed, tightly closed. I knocked--there was no reply. I -entered the caf opposite and asked the waiters if the former flower -girl had returned to her shop. They stared at me, having no very clear -idea what I was saying; I was so excited, and my rain-soaked clothes and -muddy boots gave me such a wild aspect, that they took me for a lunatic, -I doubt not. I left the caf without obtaining any information. Where -should I go next? I was still determined to find her.--Ah! perhaps where -her mother used to live. It was a terribly long way, but I ran there -without stopping. It was quite late; I could find nothing open but a -grocery in the neighborhood of Mre Jrme's house. I went in and -inquired; there I was at least more courteously treated than at the -caf, because the grocer was more accustomed to see drenched and muddy -people. But I learned nothing; since Madame Jrme's death her daughters -had not been seen in the quarter. So I must needs renounce all hope of -learning what had become of her! But, no; I would hope on; she had sent -me a bouquet, and perhaps she would return. - -I went home sadly enough. I felt completely exhausted; my clothes were -stuck to my body; I could hardly walk, but I looked in vain for a cab; -it rained in torrents, and I did not meet a single one. I reached home -at last. Madame Dupont was waiting for me; the poor woman was terrified -when she saw the state I was in; she insisted on going upstairs to warm -my bed, on my taking something hot; but I refused her attentions; I -hoped that rest would restore me. When I entered my room, my teeth -chattered violently and my legs trembled under me. I felt far from well; -I crept into bed with Nicette's bouquet on my heart; it seemed to me -that that must cure me. - -The next morning my concierge found me wildly delirious; I recognized -nobody; my head was on fire, my mouth was parched; I was consumed by a -burning fever. Fatigue, the storm, the mental agitation of the preceding -night, had all combined to make me seriously ill. In a few days I was at -the door of the tomb. - -Who was there to take care of me? who would nurse me? My relations were -not in Paris. I had a wife, but she, instead of coming to my bedside, -would have fled from me for fear of contagion; strangers had to take the -place of kindred and friends. - -For nine days I had no idea who was nursing me; I neither heard nor saw -anything. Not until the end of that time was the crisis safely passed; I -was saved, my delirium disappeared; all that I needed was good care, -quiet, and rest. - -I half opened my eyes and looked about me with difficulty, trying to -collect my thoughts. I saw Madame Dupont by my side. - -"Have I been delirious long?" I asked. - -"Nine days, monsieur; oh! you've been very sick; you almost died! But, -thank heaven! you're saved; all you need now is patience and plenty of -rest. I was sure you'd be sick. The idea of going out in such a storm! -and all in a sweat, too! And when you came back, why, your eyes were -starting out of your head! But young men will never listen to advice! -And then, think of going to sleep with a nosegay under your nose! that's -very bad--very unhealthy!" - -"What has been done with that bouquet?" - -"It's in the other room there; never fear, you'll find it all right." - -"Who has nursed me since I have been sick?" - -"I have, and--your neighbor." - -"My neighbor!" - -"Yes, the lady on your landing. Oh! she has taken the best possible care -of you. As soon as she heard you was sick, she insisted on being your -nurse, and, my word! if she'd been nursing sick folks all her life, she -couldn't have done better." - -"Where is she? I would like to thank her." - -"Oh! you can thank her later. She's just gone to her room. But here you -are talking, and the doctor told us we mustn't let you talk! Go to -sleep, monsieur, go to sleep; it'll do you good." - -Madame Dupont closed my curtains and refused to answer any more -questions. I was at a loss to understand the unknown lady's conduct; but -I was not strong enough to reflect long; I fell asleep wishing that I -might see her. Toward evening I woke. Someone was beside me. When I -moved, the person attempted to hurry away; but it was too late; my eyes -had met hers, I had recognized her: it was Nicette. - -I cried out, and she returned to me. - -"Oh! in heaven's name, speak to me!" I said; "so that I may be sure that -it is you!" - -"Yes, yes, it's I, it's your Nicette. Oh! Monsieur Dorsan, pray don't -talk any more; the doctor has strictly forbidden it. That's the reason I -didn't want you to see me." - -"Dear Nicette! as if the sight of you was not more powerful than all -their medicines! It is you! it is really you!" - -I took her hands and pressed them and held them to my heart; I no longer -had strength to speak. She tried to calm me, but she was as deeply moved -as I was; the tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped on me; but how -sweet they were to us both! - -"So it was you, Nicette, who nursed me during my illness?" - -"Wasn't it my duty? Could I have trusted others to do it?" - -"Then you were my neighbor?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Cruel girl! you concealed yourself from me!" - -"I thought that the sight of me would not give you any pleasure." - -"You did not think that!" - -"You are married." - -"But you see that I have ceased to live with my wife." - -"I didn't dare show myself to you, for fear that would make you leave -your lodgings." - -"What an idea! O Nicette!" - -"But I couldn't resist the longing to remind you of me; and that is why -you found the bouquet." - -"Ah! it is to it that I am indebted for finding you. Nicette, don't -leave me again, I implore you!" - -"Oh, no! I won't leave you again, monsieur, as you allow me to stay. -But, I beg of you, be calm, don't talk any more, and take a little -rest." - -I yielded to her entreaties; in truth, I did need to pull myself -together. Nicette was with me, it was to her nursing that I owed my -life! I had difficulty in realizing my happiness. Ah! how blissfully -happy I was! and yet, some regret was mingled with my joy, when I -thought that Raymond---- But if that were not true, I should be too -happy. - -Every day my convalescence advanced a step; but I was not content unless -Nicette was by my side; so she never left me. She seemed surprised by -the feeling that I manifested for her; I saw in her eyes all the -intoxicating joy that it caused her. It was plain, therefore, that she -still loved me. Often I flattered myself that it was so, and then I -abandoned myself to the affection that she aroused in me, I basked -blissfully in the fire of her glances, I laid my head on her breast and -inhaled her sweet breath. But when the image of Raymond appeared before -me, all my happiness vanished, my heart swelled, and I moved away from -Nicette. - -She noticed these abrupt transitions from joy to gloom, these sudden -changes in my manner toward her. - -"Are you thinking of your wife?" she asked me one day, when I had moved -away from her and sighed. - -"No," I said, gazing at her in distress; "I am thinking of Raymond." - -"Of Monsieur Raymond; and that makes you sigh?" - -"Can you wonder at it? Did he not rob me of the greatest of blessings?" - -"What do you mean? I don't understand you." - -"Ah! Nicette, you loved him, and yet you say that you don't understand -me!" - -"I--love him! Great God! who told you that?" - -"I saw it; I know that he was your lover." - -"My lover! O heaven! then I am a most despicable creature in your eyes! -And you believed that!" - -Tears suffocated her; she could say no more. I ran to her, threw my arms -about her, and covered her with kisses; the mere suspicion that Raymond -had lied to me was perfect bliss. - -"Nicette, dear Nicette, tell me how it all happened? I saw him in your -shop; he held your hands--and you admitted it yourself." - -"Ah! could you believe that I loved anybody but you? I, who would give -my life for you--who have never given a thought to anybody else since I -first saw you! Oh! forgive me for loving you so much; perhaps it offends -you, but I must tell you now the whole secret of my heart. When I lived -in my shop, the only joy I had was to see you; every day I expected or -hoped to see you pass; but it happened very seldom. I used to bring you -bouquets as a pledge of my gratitude, and I would seize a moment when -the concierge was out to run up and tie them on your door. Sometimes I -saw you go by with a lady on your arm. Then I used to cry, for I would -say to myself: 'I shall never walk like that with him'--When I went a -long while without seeing you, I used to long to know something about -you, but I didn't dare go to your house to inquire. One day Monsieur -Raymond stopped to buy some flowers of me; he looked at me very hard, -recognized me, I suppose, and came again the next day. While he was -looking at my flowers, he paid me compliments, but I didn't listen to -him. Then he mentioned you, and I was very glad to listen to him. He -noticed that, for every time he came he talked about you, and I always -urged him to stay. He was the only person from whom I heard anything -about you; what he said made me sad, and yet I wanted to hear it. He -told me that you had twenty mistresses, that you loved all the women, -and that you had made fun of me; then he showed me the bouquets I had -carried to you, which he said you had given to him." - -"The miserable cur! And you believed him, Nicette?" - -"Alas! when I saw you come to buy flowers with that lady who--who called -you her dear friend and looked at me with such a sneering expression, I -thought he had told me the truth. That made me so unhappy that I -couldn't stay at home; I went out and walked about the streets most of -the night, hardly knowing what I did. It was while I was out that you -came. The next morning, when you came again, you seemed to be very -angry, and you left me very suddenly, you know; I wanted to call you -back, but I didn't dare. That evening Monsieur Raymond came; he talked -about you; I cried, and he tried to comfort me; he may have taken my -hands in his, but if he did I didn't feel it; I was thinking only of -you. He came again the next night, and then he wanted to talk about -himself: he said that he adored me, and a lot of other things; but he -said nothing more about you, and I wouldn't listen to him. I didn't let -him in again; he wrote me a long love letter, calling me cruel and -wicked. I have kept it to show you. At last he let me alone. I never saw -you after that. I came to this house and learned that you had gone away, -but had kept your apartment; that made me hope you would return. But one -day Monsieur Raymond passed my shop, and, being delighted to make me -unhappy, told me you were married. Alas! I should have expected it; I -knew that there must be many other women who loved you; and yet, I -became so miserable that I didn't have the courage to keep my shop; -besides, I was rich enough to get along without it. I came to this house -and found that the other apartment on your landing was empty, so I hired -it on the spot. That brought me nearer to these rooms where I passed -that night which changed the whole course of my life. But when you came -back here to live, I didn't dare to let you see me, because I was afraid -that the sight of me would not be pleasant to you.--That is the truth; -do you believe now that I have loved any man but you?" - -When she had finished her story, Nicette went for Raymond's letter and -brought it to me. I no longer needed it to induce me to believe her; but -that final proof thoroughly convinced me that I had been deceived by -appearances and by Raymond's lies. - -Ah! how delicious was that moment when I found that Nicette was worthy -of all my love! I hastened to tell her, in my turn, all that had -happened to me, all that I had felt when I believed that she was -Raymond's mistress. She wept with joy and love as she listened; she -gazed into my face, took my hands, and held them to her heart. - -"So you did love me," she said, "and you love me still! Ah! how happy I -am!" - -The story of my marriage and of Plagie's conduct caused her the -greatest surprise; she could not conceive how my wife could fail to love -me. Dear Nicette! But for that miserable Raymond, I should still have -been free! but the ties which bound me to Plagie were broken by nature, -if not by man. - -"What!" she said; "are you not going back to your wife?" - -"Never. That resolution was irrevocable before I found you; it can bring -no blame upon you." - -"And you really want me to stay with you?" - -"Do I want you to! Could I live without you now?" - -"Oh! how happy I am going to be, monsieur!" - -"Dear Nicette! no more _monsieur_, no more formal address! I am your -friend, your lover, and you are the whole world to me! Call me Eugne, -your Eugne!" - -The evening passed away in this blissful conversation. - -"I must go to my room now," said Nicette; "it is time to go to sleep, -and you need it." - -"Oh! happiness has restored my health. But you are my nurse, and you -must not leave me." - -She blushed and looked at me; but she had not the strength to deny me -anything. - -"Dear Eugne," she said, "I am yours. This is surely the place where I -owe the reward of your love." - -Oh! unalloyed ecstasy of true love, I had never known you before! Never -until that day did I really exist! - - - - -XXXVI - -GREAT EVENTS.--CONCLUSION - - -A new dawn had risen for me; beside Nicette time fairly flew, and love -alone remained. It seemed to me that I loved her more dearly every day. -Sometimes the poor child feared that her happiness was only a dream. How -keen our pleasures were! how sweet our intercourse! Nicette was no -longer the poor flower girl whom I had known long before. Since she had -known me, she had striven incessantly to leave behind her every trace of -manners and mode of speech that might be unpleasant to me; she had -struggled to acquire the indispensable knowledge that she lacked. During -all the time that she had lived alone on my landing, she had devoted to -study every instant that was not given to thoughts of me. The result was -that she talked easily and expressed herself with facility; her manners -were refined, her appearance simple, but modest; she did not hold -herself perfectly stiff, or keep her eyes cast down, or assume the -prudish airs which distinguished Plagie--before she was my wife; but -her demeanor was respectable, her glance sweet and expressive; her whole -aspect was most attractive; and her heart--ah! her heart was a treasure! - -Six months had passed like a day since I had found Nicette; our -happiness would have been perfect but for her occasional fits of -melancholy, the cause of which I divined. - -"You are married," she often said to me; "perhaps it is very wrong of me -to live with you. Suppose that you should despise me some day." - -"Dear Nicette! drive away these thoughts, which my heart repels. Let the -world think and say what it will! If it blames me, it is wrong. In good -faith, which of the two deserves to be despised, the wife who deceives -her husband, or the mistress who is true to her lover?" - -But one morning, while we were breakfasting, there came a violent ring -at my door. Nicette answered the bell and returned, followed by a woman -whom I recognized: it was Justine, Plagie's maid. - -My blood froze in my veins. Why had she come? - -"Monsieur," said Justine, "madame your wife is very sick; when she came -home from a ball three days ago, she began to vomit blood; they think -she can't get well, and she wants to see you." - -Nicette turned pale; I saw her stagger, but she ran to fetch my hat. - -"Go, my dear," she said; "go at once; your wife is waiting for you. If -necessary, stay with her, don't come back! But try to save her life." - -I hurried after Justine and returned to that house which I had thought -that I should never enter again. How everything was changed! What -confusion everywhere! I found my way at last to my wife's apartment and -approached her bed; I could hardly recognize her. Was this that Plagie -who used to be so fresh and pretty?--I forgot her faults, and I was -conscious of no feeling for her but pity. - -She held out her hand. - -"I wanted to see you before I died," she said, in a faint voice. -"Eugne, forgive my wrongdoing. I am punished for it, as you see. If I -had listened to you, I should not be standing now on the edge of the -grave." - -I tried to comfort her, to revive hope in her heart; but I could not; -she knew too well that the mainspring of life was broken. - -I took my place by her side. The day passed without bringing any change -in her condition, but the night was terrible; and about five in the -morning, Plagie ceased to live. - -I shed tears over the remains of a woman whose life was so brief and -whose happiness was so deceptive. - -Having completed the business to which this sad event required me to -attend, and having paid my wife's debts, I returned to Nicette. - -"Well?" she said; "your wife?" - -"She is no more!" - -"Oh! my dear, let us weep over her fate! she might have been so happy if -she had loved you!" - -To divert my thoughts from that occurrence, I formed the plan of taking -a journey with Nicette. That would complete her training; the sight of -Switzerland and Italy is always profitable to those who can think and -remember. - -Nicette was ready to go with me; wherever she could be with me, she was -perfectly happy; it mattered little to her under what sky or in what -climate we were to pass our lives. To her I was the world, pleasure, -happiness. Ah! Nicette! love me so always! If you should ever be false -to me, then I should know that no one on earth is worthy of love or -faith. - -We started in a berlin which I had bought, so that we were free to halt -wherever some monument should arouse our admiration, or some fact of -history our interest; that is the only agreeable and profitable way to -travel. - -We made the tour of Switzerland. I was anxious to show Nicette the -splendors of Mont Cenis, and we stopped at an inn near the foot of the -mountain. I observed that there was a great commotion in the house. I -ordered a room, and the maid who showed us the way to it kept uttering -exclamations. - -"What has happened here, in heaven's name?" I asked her; "you all seem -much excited. You have guests here, I suppose?" - -"Yes, monsieur, a party of foreigners arrived this morning, to climb the -mountain; there are Englishmen and Frenchmen and Russians, a whole party -of sightseers, in fact. But that isn't what distresses us so. You see, -monsieur, this morning before breakfast all these gentlemen were -together, and they began to talk about tables d'hte. One man said that -he liked them because he ate very fast; another declared that he was a -better eater than any of the rest, and that he'd eat six eggs before -breakfast and, even then, eat faster than anyone; they laughed at him, -so he bet ten louis, and an Englishman took the bet. The poor man -ordered hard-boiled eggs; he ate them, and then began his breakfast; oh! -he went at it in fine style, I tell you! and so he won his ten louis. -But just after, he turned yellow, red, and blue; they had to put him to -bed, and instead of climbing the mountain he's likely to die on our -hands." - -"It's an Englishman, of course, who undertook that pretty trick?" - -"No, monsieur; a Frenchman." - -"A Frenchman!" - -"If you want to see him, everybody's standing round his bed; everyone -has some remedy to save his life." - -I was curious to see the fellow. I left Nicette and bade the girl show -me to the dying man's room. As I entered, he breathed his last, as a -result of his wager. I glanced at his face, and recognized my neighbor -Raymond. - - * * * * * - - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - -interrupting her converversation=> interrupting her conversation {pg 78} - -which I was detemined=> which I was determined {pg 198} - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - -even though one act wretchedly=> even though one acts wretchedly {pg -287} - - * * * * * - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of My Neighbor Raymond (Novels of Paul de -Kock Volume XI), by Charles Paul de Kock - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND *** - -***** This file should be named 41083-8.txt or 41083-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/0/8/41083/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: My Neighbor Raymond (Novels of Paul de Kock Volume XI) - -Author: Charles Paul de Kock - -Release Date: October 17, 2012 [EBook #41083] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="390" height="550" alt="image of the book's cover" title="image of the book's cover" /> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<span class="caption"><i>Copyright 1903 by G. Barrie & Sons</i></span><br /> -<a href="images/front_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/front_sml.jpg" width="393" height="550" alt="Copyright 1903 by G. Barrie & Sons" title="Copyright 1903 by G. Barrie & Sons" /></a> -</p> - -<div class="lcalled"> - -<p class="c">RAYMOND SURPRISES DORSAN AND NICETTE</p> - -<p><i>I was determined that he should not, at all events, have time to -scrutinize the girl; I fumbled hastily in my pocket for my key, but -it was entangled in my handkerchief.</i></p> -</div> - -<h1> -<small>NOVELS<br /> -<br /> -<small>BY</small></small><br /><br /> -<big>Paul de Kock</big><br /> -<br /> -<small><small><span class="red">VOLUME XI</span></small></small><br /> -<br /> -<small><span class="red">MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND</span></small></h1> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/colophon.png" width="150" height="63" alt="colophon" title="colophon" /> -</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="cb">THE JEFFERSON PRESS<br /> -<br /> -BOSTON <span style="margin-left: 8em;">NEW YORK</span></p> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p class="c"><small><i>Copyrighted, 1903-1904, by G. B. & Sons.</i></small></p> - -<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<p class="c"> -<a href="#I"><b>I, </b></a> -<a href="#II"><b>II, </b></a> -<a href="#III"><b>III, </b></a> -<a href="#IV"><b>IV, </b></a> -<a href="#V"><b>V, </b></a> -<a href="#VI"><b>VI, </b></a> -<a href="#VII"><b>VII, </b></a> -<a href="#VIII"><b>VIII, </b></a> -<a href="#IX"><b>IX, </b></a> -<a href="#X"><b>X, </b></a> -<a href="#XI"><b>XI, </b></a> -<a href="#XII"><b>XII, </b></a> -<a href="#XIII"><b>XIII, </b></a> -<a href="#XIV"><b>XIV, </b></a> -<a href="#XV"><b>XV, </b></a> -<a href="#XVI"><b>XVI, </b></a> -<a href="#XVII"><b>XVII, </b></a> -<a href="#XVIII"><b>XVIII, </b></a> -<a href="#XIX"><b>XIX, </b></a> -<a href="#XX"><b>XX, </b></a> -<a href="#XXI"><b>XXI, </b></a> -<a href="#XXII"><b>XXII, </b></a> -<a href="#XXIII"><b>XXIII, </b></a> -<a href="#XXIV"><b>XXIV, </b></a> -<a href="#XXV"><b>XXV, </b></a> -<a href="#XXVI"><b>XXVI, </b></a> -<a href="#XXVII"><b>XXVII, </b></a> -<a href="#XXVIII"><b>XXVIII, </b></a> -<a href="#XXIX"><b>XXIX, </b></a> -<a href="#XXX"><b>XXX, </b></a> -<a href="#XXXI"><b>XXXI, </b></a> -<a href="#XXXII"><b>XXXII, </b></a> -<a href="#XXXIII"><b>XXXIII, </b></a> -<a href="#XXXIV"><b>XXXIV, </b></a> -<a href="#XXXV"><b>XXXV, </b></a> -<a href="#XXXVI"><b>XXXVI.</b></a> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a></p> - -<p><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a></p> - -<h1>MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND</h1> - -<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I<br /><br /> -<small>THE GRISETTE</small></h2> - -<p>I was strolling along the boulevards one Saturday evening. I was alone, -and in a meditative mood; contrary to my usual custom, I was indulging -in some rather serious reflections on the world and its people, on the -past and the present, on the mind and the body, on the soul, on thought, -chance, fate, and destiny. I believe, indeed, that I was on the point of -turning my attention to the moon, which was just appearing, and in which -I already saw mountains, lakes, and forests,—for with a little -determination one may see in the moon whatever one pleases,—when, as I -was gazing at the sky, I suddenly collided with a person going in the -opposite direction, whom I had not previously noticed.</p> - -<p>“Look where you’re going, monsieur; you’re very awkward!” at once -remarked a soft, sweet voice, which not even anger deprived of its -charm. I have always had a weakness for pleasant voices; so I instantly -descended from the regions to which I had mounted only for lack of -something better to do, and looked at the person who had addressed me.</p> - -<p>It was a girl of sixteen to eighteen years, with a little cap tied under -her chin, a calico dress, and a modest apron of black mohair. She had -every appearance of a<a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a> young workgirl who had just finished her day’s -work and was on her way home. I made haste to look at her face: a -charming face, on my word! Bright, mischievous eyes, a tiny nose, fine -teeth, black hair, and a most attractive ensemble; an expressive face, -too, and a certain charming grace in her bearing. I was forced to -confess that I saw no such pretty things in the moon.</p> - -<p>The girl had under her arm a pasteboard box, which I had unwittingly -jostled; she refastened the string with which it was tied, and seemed to -apprehend that the contents had suffered from my awkwardness. I lost no -time in apologizing.</p> - -<p>“Really, mademoiselle, I am terribly distressed—it was very awkward of -me.”</p> - -<p>“It is certain, monsieur, that if you had looked in front of you this -wouldn’t have happened.”</p> - -<p>“I trust that I have not hurt you?”</p> - -<p>“Me? oh, no! But I’m afraid that my flowers are crumpled; however, I -will fix them all right at home.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said I to myself; “she’s a flowermaker; as a general rule, the -young ladies who follow that trade are not Lucretias; let us see if I -cannot scrape acquaintance with her.”</p> - -<p>She replaced her box under her arm, and went her way. I walked by her -side, saying nothing at first. I have always been rather stupid about -beginning gallant interviews; luckily, when one has once made a start, -the thing goes of itself. However, from time to time I ventured a word -or two:</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle walks very fast. Won’t you take my arm? I should be -delighted to escort you. May I not be permitted to see you again? Do you -go to the theatre often? I could send you tickets, if you chose. Pray -be<a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a> careful; you will surely slip!” and other polite phrases of that -sort, the conventional thing in nocturnal meetings.</p> - -<p>To all this I obtained no reply save:</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur;” “no, monsieur;” “leave me, I beg you!” “you are wasting -your time;” “don’t follow me.”</p> - -<p>Sometimes she made no reply at all, but tossed her head impatiently, and -crossed to the other side of the boulevard. But I crossed in her wake; -and after a few moments of silence, I risked another remark, giving to -my voice the most tender and sentimental inflection conceivable.</p> - -<p>But I began to realize that my chance acquaintance was shyer than I had -at first supposed, and that I might very well have nothing to show for -my long walk, my little speeches, and my sidelong glances. However, her -resistance augmented my desires; I remembered how foolish I felt one -evening when, thinking that I had fallen in with an innocent maid, my -charmer, when we arrived at her door, invited me to go up to her room; -and I beg my readers to believe that I knew too much to accept. But -appearances are so deceptive in Paris! the shrewdest connoisseurs allow -themselves to be cozened; now, I ought to be a connoisseur, for I have -seen a good deal of the world; and yet, I frequently allow myself to be -taken in.</p> - -<p>I made these reflections as I followed my pretty flower girl. She led me -a devilish long way; we walked the whole length of Boulevards -Montmartre, Poissonnière, Bonne-Nouvelle; we passed all the small -theatres. “She lives in the Marais,” I thought; “that is plain.” We went -through Rue Chariot, Rue de Bretagne, Vieille Rue du Temple. We went on -and on; luckily, the weather was fine, and I knew that she must stop -sooner or later.<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a> Yes, and she would probably shut the door in my face; -but what did I care? After all, I was simply killing time; I had not -known what to do with myself, and I had suddenly found an objective -point for my stroll. To be sure, such an objective point is within the -reach of everyone in Paris; and it is easy to provide one’s self with -occupation by following the first saucy face one chances to meet. -Indeed, I know many men who do nothing else, and who neglect their -business to do it. Above all, I notice a large number of government -clerks, who, instead of attending to their duties, are constantly -hunting grisettes, on the pretext of going out to buy lunch; to be sure, -they go out without their hats, and run about the city as if they were -simply making neighborly calls; which is very comforting for the -departments, as they are always sure that their clerks are not lost.</p> - -<p>But it is not my business to censure the conduct of other people; -indeed, that would be a most inopportune thing to do, inasmuch as I am -in the very act of setting a bad example; for, a moment ago, I was -meditating upon the instability of human affairs, and now I am giving -chase to a petticoat that covers the most fragile, the weakest, the most -deceitful, but also the most seductive, most alluring, most enchanting -creature that Nature has created! I was losing my head, my imagination -was hard at work, and yet I saw only a foot—a dainty one, ’tis -true—and the beginning of a leg clothed in a modest black woollen -stocking. Ah! if I might only have seen the garter! Faith! all things -considered, it is much better to follow a girl, at the risk of having a -door shut in your face, than to try to read the moon, and to weary one’s -brain with metaphysics, astronomy, physiology, and metoposcopy; the -deeper one delves into the vague<a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a> and the abstract, the less clearly one -discovers the goal and the proof; but, turn your attention to a saucy -face, and you know at once what you wish to accomplish; and in the -company of a pretty woman it is easy to discover the system of nature.</p> - -<p>For several minutes I had said nothing to my young working girl; I was -piqued by her persistent silence; I had even slackened my pace, so that -she might think that I had ceased to follow her. But, although I was -some twenty yards distant, I did not lose sight of her. She stopped, and -so did I. She was speaking to someone; I walked toward them. The someone -was a young man. I bit my lips in vexation; but I tried to distinguish -what they were saying, and I overheard the following dialogue:</p> - -<p>“Good-evening, Mademoiselle Caroline!”</p> - -<p>“Good-evening, Monsieur Jules!”</p> - -<p>“You are going home very late.”</p> - -<p>“We have lots of work, especially on Saturday; and then I had a box to -carry to Rue Richelieu; that is what makes me so late.”</p> - -<p>“What have you got in this box?”</p> - -<p>“A pretty bunch of roses to wear in my cap to-morrow. I made it myself; -it’s very stylish, as you’ll see. A clumsy fellow ran into me on the -boulevard, and nearly made me drop it.”</p> - -<p>At that, I slunk into the passageway in front of which I had stopped.</p> - -<p>“There are some people who never pay any attention to anything when -they’re walking.”</p> - -<p>“I fancy this man was a student; he was looking at the sky.”</p> - -<p>“Did he ask your pardon?<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!—But I must leave you; my aunt’s waiting for me, and she’ll -give me a scolding.”</p> - -<p>“I should be very sorry to be the cause of anything unpleasant happening -to you. We shall see each other to-morrow, shan’t we?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; unless my aunt isn’t willing that I should dance any more. -She’s so cross! Have you got tickets for Tivoli?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mademoiselle, for four; I will call for you.”</p> - -<p>“Early, Monsieur Jules.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, never fear! But don’t you forget we’re to dance the first -contradance together.”</p> - -<p>“I never forget such things!”</p> - -<p>“Adieu, Mademoiselle Caroline!”</p> - -<p>“Adieu, Monsieur Jules!”</p> - -<p>Monsieur Jules drew nearer to her, and the girl offered her cheek. I -heard a kiss. Parbleu! it was well worth while going all the way to Rue -des Rosiers to see that!</p> - -<p>The young man walked away, singing; the girl went a few steps farther, -then entered a passageway, of which she closed the door behind her, and -I was left standing in the gutter.</p> - -<p>That Jules was evidently her lover; yes, he had every appearance of a -lover, albeit an honorable one, for I was certain that he kissed nothing -but her cheek; moreover, his conversation did not suggest a seducer. -To-morrow, Sunday, they were going to Tivoli, with the aunt, no doubt, -as he had tickets for four. Well, it was evident that I should have -nothing to show for my walk. It was not the first time, but it was a -pity; for she was pretty, very pretty! I examined the house with care. -One can never tell—chance may serve one at some time. The street was -dark, the moon being behind a cloud, and<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a> I could not make out the -number. But that was of no importance, for I could recognize the -passageway, the sharp corner, and the awning.</p> - -<p>“What the devil! Pray be careful what you’re doing! You just missed -throwing that on me!”</p> - -<p>An inmate of my charmer’s house had opened his window and emptied a -vessel into the street, just as I was trying to distinguish the color of -the wall. Luckily, I escaped with a few splashes; but the incident -abated my curiosity, and I left Rue des Rosiers, wiping my coat tails -with my handkerchief.</p> - -<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II<br /><br /> -<small>THE PETITE-MAÎTRESSE</small></h2> - -<p>It was not late when I returned to the boulevard; the performances at -the small theatres were not yet at an end. A dozen ticket speculators -ran to meet me, offering to sell me checks.</p> - -<p>“There’s one more act, monsieur,” they shouted in my ears; “it’s the -best of all; you’ll see the duel with a sword and an axe, the fire, and -the ballet. It’s a play that draws all Paris. You can go to any part of -the theatre.”</p> - -<p>Unable to resist such urgent solicitations, I bought a check which -entitled me to admission to any part of the theatre; but they would only -allow me to go into the pit, or to walk around the corridor. I chose the -latter alternative; as there was but one act to be played, I could see -well enough; and then, the things that happen<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a> in the auditorium are -often more amusing than those that happen on the stage. I am rather fond -of examining faces, and there are generally some comical ones in -attendance upon melodramas; the theatres at which that class of play is -given are, as a general rule, frequented by the common people and the -middle class, who do not know what it is to conceal their feelings, and -who consequently abandon themselves unreservedly to all the emotion -aroused by a scene of love or of remorse.</p> - -<p>“Ah! the cur! ah! the blackguard!” exclaimed my nearest neighbor -whenever the tyrant appeared; “he’ll get his finish before long.”</p> - -<p>I glanced at the speaker; I judged from his hands and his general aspect -that he was a tanner; his eyes were brighter than those of the actor who -played the traitor and against whom he vociferated loudly at every -instant. In front of me, as I stood behind the seats, I noticed a -laundress who sobbed bitterly as she listened to the story of the -princess’s misfortunes, and a small boy who crouched under the bench to -avoid seeing the duel.</p> - -<p>“How these good people are enjoying themselves!” I thought; “they are -not surfeited with the theatre; they are absorbed by what is taking -place on the stage; they don’t lose a single word, and for the next week -they will think of nothing but what they have seen to-night. I will go -up to the first tier of boxes; there is more style there, but less -enjoyment.”</p> - -<p>Through a glass door I caught sight of a most attractive face; I gave -the box opener the requisite amount of money, and entered the box, -determined to do my utmost to make up for the time I had wasted with -Mademoiselle Caroline.<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a></p> - -<p>The lady, who had seemed a charming creature seen through the glass, was -less charming at close range. However, she was not unattractive; she had -style, brilliancy, and dash. She was still young; I saw at once that she -was inclined to flirt, and that the appearance of a young man in her box -would divert her for a moment.</p> - -<p>You will understand, reader, that I was a young man; I believe that I -have not yet told you so. Later, I will tell you who I am, and what -talents, what attractive and estimable qualities, I possess; it will not -take long.</p> - -<p>A gentleman was seated beside the lady in question; he had a commonplace -face, but was fashionably dressed and had distinguished manners. Was he -her husband? I was inclined to think so, for they hardly spoke to each -other.</p> - -<p>I regretted that I had only about half an act to see; with more time, I -might have been able to enter into conversation, to make myself -agreeable, to begin an acquaintance. It seemed to me that I made a -favorable impression; she bestowed divers very soft glances on me; she -was seated so that she could look at me without being seen by her -companion. The ladies are so accustomed to that sort of thing, and so -expert at it!</p> - -<p>“Ah!” I thought; “if ever I marry, I will always sit behind my wife; for -then—— Even so; but if somebody else sits beside her, can I prevent -the feet and knees from doing as they will? It is most embarrassing.”</p> - -<p>“This play isn’t so bad,” said the lady at last, to her neighbor; “the -acting here is not at all amiss.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes;” nothing but <i>yes</i>. Ah! he was surely her husband. I listened -intently, for she was evidently speaking for my benefit.<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a></p> - -<p>“I was horribly bored last night at the Français; Mars didn’t act. -Aren’t we going to the Opéra to-morrow? There’s to be an extra -performance.”</p> - -<p>“As you please.”</p> - -<p>“After all, it’s too hot for enjoyment at the theatre. If there wasn’t -always such a medley in the public gardens on Sunday, I would rather go -there than shut myself up in a theatre. What’s your idea?”</p> - -<p>“It makes no difference to me.”</p> - -<p>The lady made an impatient gesture. The gentleman did not notice it, but -moved nearer the front of the box. I rose to look at the scenery, and my -hand happened to come in contact with the lady’s arm, but she did not -move.</p> - -<p>“These theatres are wretchedly ventilated; there’s a very unpleasant -odor here,” she said, after a moment.</p> - -<p>I thought of my coat tails, which, in truth, smelt anything but sweet. I -could not help smiling, but I instantly offered her a smelling bottle. -She accepted it, and when she returned it did not seem offended because -I pressed the hand with which she presented it to me.</p> - -<p>At that moment the curtain fell.</p> - -<p>“The devil!” I muttered to myself; “what a shame! I came too late. -Mademoiselle Caroline is responsible for it. But what am I saying? If it -had not been for her, I should still be on Boulevard Montmartre, gazing -at the stars; it was because I followed her that I came in here to see -the last act; and by running after a grisette I have fallen in with a -<i>petite-maîtresse</i> who perhaps is inferior to the grisette! How one -thing leads to another! It was because something was thrown on my coat -that this lady complained of the unpleasant odor, and that I offered her -my smelling bottle and squeezed her hand.<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a> After this, who will tell me -that there is no such thing as fate? If I should make this gentleman a -cuckold, it would certainly be the fault of Mademoiselle Caroline, who -refused to listen to me.”</p> - -<p>We left the box. I assisted my neighbor to climb over the benches, which -were stationary for the convenience of the public. But the husband took -her arm, and I was obliged to fall behind.</p> - -<p>“Shall I follow, or shall I not follow?”—Such was the question I asked -myself as I descended the staircase. After what had happened to me so -short a time before, I ought to have kept quiet the rest of the evening; -but I was twenty-four years old, I loved the fair sex passionately; -moreover, my last mistress had just proved unfaithful to me,—indeed, it -was that fact which was responsible for my melancholy meditations,—and -a young man who has a strong flavor of sentiment in his makeup cannot -exist without a passion. Unquestionably I was——</p> - -<p>We were no sooner on the boulevard than they crossed the sidewalk to the -curbstone.</p> - -<p>“Aha!” I said to myself; “they are going to take a carriage; I’ll just -listen to what they tell the driver, and in that way I can learn the -address without putting myself to any trouble.”</p> - -<p>But it was decreed that I should be disappointed again in my plans. They -walked to a dainty vis-à-vis and called <i>André</i>; a footman ran to them, -opened the door, and assisted monsieur and madame to enter.</p> - -<p>My self-esteem received a still sharper prick; a woman who had a -carriage of her own! Here was a conquest that merited the expenditure of -some little time and trouble. I determined to follow madame’s -carriage—not<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a> on foot; that would be too fatiguing! it might do if she -were in a cab; but with private horses—why, I should have inflammation -of the lungs! I spied a cabriolet, which was just what I wanted. The -other carriage was driving away, so I lost no time.</p> - -<p>“Hi, <i>cocher</i>!”</p> - -<p>“Get in, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“I am in.”</p> - -<p>“Where are we going, bourgeois?”</p> - -<p>“Follow that carriage just ahead of us, and you shall have a good -<i>pourboire</i>.”</p> - -<p>The rascal did not need it; I saw that he was already tipsy. I wished -then that I had taken another, but it was too late to change. He lashed -his emaciated horse with all his strength; the infernal beast broke into -a gallop of desperation, and sometimes outstripped the private carriage.</p> - -<p>“Look out!” I said to my driver; “don’t whip it so hard; let’s not have -an accident.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you be afraid, bourgeois, I know my business; you see, I haven’t -been driving a cab twenty years without finding out what driving means. -You’re with some friends in the green fiacre yonder; very good! I -propose to have you get there ahead of ’em.”</p> - -<p>“But I did not tell you that I was with anybody; I want you to follow -that carriage; if you pass it, how can you follow it?”</p> - -<p>“I tell you, bourgeois, that they’re a-following us; I’ll show ’em that -my horse is worth two of theirs. When Belotte’s waked up, there’s no -stopping her.”</p> - -<p>“Morbleu! you go too fast! We have passed the carriage; where is it -now?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! they’re trying to catch up with us; but the coachman’s mad. I’m -driving you all right, bourgeois.<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>”</p> - -<p>“But stop—stop, I tell you!”</p> - -<p>“Have we got there?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes! we’ve got there.”</p> - -<p>“Damme! you see, Belotte’s got her second wind, and she’s a good one to -go, I tell you. Ho! ho! here you are, master. Where shall I knock?”</p> - -<p>“Nowhere.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! not a sign of a fiacre anywhere! Didn’t I tell you that you’d -arrive ahead of the others? You see, it’s a whim of mine to pass -everything on the road.”</p> - -<p>I alighted from the cabriolet and looked all about; no sign of a -carriage; we had lost it. I was frantic; and I had to listen to the -appeals of my drunken driver, who wanted his <i>pourboire</i>. I was tempted -to break his whip over his back; but I restrained myself and adopted the -quickest method, which was to pay him and dismiss him.</p> - -<p>“When you want a good driver and a good horse, bourgeois, I’m your man, -you see; you’ll always find me on Place Taitbout, near Torchoni’s—in -the swell quarter. Ask for François; I’m as well known as the clown.”</p> - -<p>“All right; I’ll remember.”</p> - -<p>The villain drove away at last, and I was left alone in a street which -was entirely unfamiliar to me. It was getting late, and, as I had no -desire to pass the night walking the streets, I tried to discover my -whereabouts! After walking some distance I found myself at a spot which -I recognized; I was on Rue des Martyrs, near the Montmartre barrier. -Luckily, I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, and to get there I had simply -to walk down the hill. So I started, reflecting as I walked. It was a -fitting occasion for reflection, and I had plenty of time. But my -reverie was again interrupted by outcries. As the Quartier des -Porcherons is not frequented by the<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a> most select society, and as I was -nowise inclined to seek a third adventure at the Grand Salon, I -quickened my pace, in order to avoid unpleasant encounters.</p> - -<p>But the noise continued; I heard cries and oaths and blows. Women were -calling for the police, the magistrate, and all the constituted -authorities of the quarter; men were pushing and striking one another -and throwing one another into the gutter. Windows were thrown open, and -heads appeared enveloped in nightcaps; they listened and laughed and -conversed from window to window, asking what the trouble was; but they -refrained from going down into the street, because it is not prudent to -meddle in a quarrel after dark.</p> - -<p>The open windows and the faces surmounted by nightcaps reminded me of my -little mishap on Rue des Rosiers. I no longer walked, but flew! fancying -that I was pursued by fatality. But I heard someone running behind me; I -turned into a street to the right; the footsteps followed me. At last I -stopped to recover my breath, and in a moment my pursuer overtook me and -grasped my arm.<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III<br /><br /> -<small>THE FLOWER GIRL</small></h2> - -<p>“O monsieur! save me! take me with you! protect me from that horrible -Beauvisage, who swore he’d take me away from anyone. Just hear how he’s -beating Cadet Finemouche, who’s a good fighter himself! My sister was no -fool; she skipped as soon as the fists began to play, and left me to -carry the whole thing on my back; and perhaps she’ll go and tell my -mother bad stories about me! I haven’t anybody but you to help me, -monsieur; if you won’t, I’m a lost girl.”</p> - -<p>While my waylayer recited her story, pausing only to wipe away the tears -with the back of her hand, I looked at my new acquaintance and tried to -distinguish her features by the dim light of a street lamp.</p> - -<p>Her language and her dress speedily informed me what manner of person I -had to deal with: a loose red gown, caught in at the waist with a black -velvet scarf; a round cap with a broad lace border; a colored -neckerchief, tied in front, with a large cross <i>à la</i> Jeannette resting -upon it. Mistake in this instance was impossible: it was perfectly -evident that I had before me a <i>marchande à éventaire</i>,<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> or one of -those hucksters whose booths surround the cemetery of the Innocents.</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> That is to say, a huckster, or peddler, who goes from place -to place with her wares displayed on a tray hung from her shoulders.</p></div> - -<p>My first thought was to see if she was pretty; I found that she was very -good-looking indeed. Her eyes,<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a> although filled with tears, had a -sincere, innocent expression which made her interesting at first sight; -her little pout, her grieved air, were softened now and then by a smile -addressed to me; and that smile, which the most accomplished coquette -could not have made more attractive, disclosed two rows of the whitest -teeth, unspoiled by enamel, coral, and all the powders of the perfumer.</p> - -<p>However, despite my new acquaintance’s beauty, I was very reluctant to -retain her arm, which she had passed through mine. Surely, with such -charming features, she could not deal in fish or meat. I was morally -certain that she sold flowers; but I did not choose to take a flower -girl for my mistress; at the most, I might, if a favorable opportunity -offered, indulge in a whim, a fancy. But I was not in luck that evening, -and I did not propose to try any more experiments. I determined to rid -myself of the girl.</p> - -<p>As gently as possible, I detached the arm that was passed through mine; -then I assumed a cold expression and said:</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry that I am unable to do what you wish; but I do not know -you; the dispute between Monsieur Beauvisage and Cadet Finemouche -doesn’t concern me. Your sister ran away, and you had better do the -same. Your mother may think what she pleases, it is all one to me. It is -after twelve o’clock; I have been walking about the streets long enough, -and I am going home to bed.”</p> - -<p>“What, monsieur! you refuse! you are going to leave me! Think of -refusing to go a little out of your way to help a poor girl who is in -trouble because of an accident that might happen to anybody. I tell you -again that my mother is quite capable of not letting me in if I go home<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a> -without somebody to answer for me who can swear that I am innocent.”</p> - -<p>“And you expect me to swear to that, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Pardine! would that skin your tongue? Besides, you’re a fine gentleman, -a swell; she won’t dare to fly into a temper before you, and she’ll -listen to me. But if I go home alone—what a row! Oh! mon Dieu! how -unlucky I am! I didn’t want to go to the Grand Salon at all; I was -afraid of something like this.”</p> - -<p>And thereupon the tears and sobs began afresh, and she stamped with her -little feet. Perhaps her mother would tear out her hair; that would be -too bad, for it formed a most becoming frame for that frank, artless -countenance. My heart is not made of stone; I was touched by the girl’s -distress, and I said to myself: “If, instead of this jacket, she were -dressed in silk or even in merino, if she wore a dainty bonnet instead -of this round cap, and a pretty locket instead of a cross <i>à la</i> -Jeannette, I would long ago have offered my services with great zeal; I -would play the gallant and make myself as agreeable as possible; I would -cut myself in two to obtain a hearing, and I would regard it as a favor -if she would allow me to offer her my arm. And shall this modest costume -make me cruel, unfeeling? Shall I refuse to do a trivial favor, which -she implores with tears in her eyes? Ah! that would be bad, very -bad!”—I had been following a grisette and a <i>grande dame</i>, who perhaps -were not worth so much notice as this poor child; I had passed the -evening making a fool of myself, and I could certainly devote an hour to -a worthy action. I determined to escort my flower girl to her home.</p> - -<p>You see, reader, that I sometimes have good impulses; to be sure, the -girl pleased me much. “All women seem<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a> to please you,” perhaps you will -say. True, reader; all the pretty ones; and I venture to say that you -are like me.</p> - -<p>I drew nearer to my pretty fugitive. She was sitting on a stone, holding -a corner of her apron to her eyes, and sobbing.</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>“Mon—monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“What is your name?”</p> - -<p>“Ni-Ni-i-cette, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Well, my little Nicette, have courage; stop crying, and take my arm. I -will take you home to your mother.”</p> - -<p>“Real—Really?”</p> - -<p>She jumped for joy; indeed, I believe that she was on the point of -embracing me; but she contented herself with taking my arm, which she -pressed very close in hers, saying:</p> - -<p>“Ah! I was sure that you wouldn’t leave me in such a pickle. I’m a good -girl, monsieur; the whole quarter will tell you that Nicette’s -reputation’s as clear as spring water. But my mother is so ugly! and -then my sister’s jealous because she says I make soft eyes at -Finemouche.”</p> - -<p>“You can tell me all about it on the way. Where are we going?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear! it’s quite a little distance. I have a stand at the -Croix-Rouge, and I live on Rue Sainte-Marguerite, where my mother keeps -a fruit shop.”</p> - -<p>From Faubourg Montmartre to the Croix-Rouge! that was enough to kill a -man! If only I could find a fiacre! I believe that I would even have -taken François’s cabriolet, at the risk of having Belotte take the bit -in her teeth; but no carriage of any sort passed us. I had no<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a> choice -but to make the best of it; so I took Nicette by the arm and forced her -to quicken her pace.</p> - -<p>“You are a peddler, Nicette,” I said; “what do you sell?”</p> - -<p>“Bouquets, monsieur; and they’re always fresh, I flatter myself.”</p> - -<p>She was a flower girl; I was sure of it. The certainty restored my -courage to some extent, and made the journey seem less long. I should -not have been flattered to act as escort to a fishwoman; and yet, when -it is a matter of rendering a service, should one be influenced by such -petty considerations? But what can you do? that infernal self-esteem is -forever putting itself forward. Moreover, I am no better than other men; -perhaps I am not so good; you may judge for yourselves.</p> - -<p>“Ah! you sell bouquets, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; and when you want a nice one, come and see me; I will -always have some ready for you, day or night.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks.—But how does it happen that, living in Faubourg Saint-Germain, -you go to a dance near the Montmartre barrier? I should suppose that you -could find balls enough in your own neighborhood.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you how that happens. My sister Fanchon has a lover, -Finemouche, a brewer, a fine-looking, dark fellow, that all the girls in -the quarter are mad over. My mother says that he’s a ne’er-do-well, and -don’t want Fanchon to listen to him; but Fanchon’s crazy over him, and -she tries all sorts of ways to be with him, on condition that he won’t -make love to her except with honest motives. This morning she agreed to -come to Montmartre at dusk, sentimentally, to have a drink of milk. But -she had to make up her mind to take me;<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a> mother wouldn’t have let her go -alone. We said we were going to see an aunt of ours, who sells oranges -on the boulevard; that was a trick of Fanchon’s. I went with her against -my will, especially as Finemouche sometimes gives me a look, that I -don’t pay any attention to—on the word of an honest girl!—When we got -to Montmartre we found the brewer, who treated us both to a donkey ride. -After riding round for two hours, I said it was time to turn our toes -toward home; but Finemouche says: ‘Let’s rest a few minutes at the Grand -Salon—long enough to eat a salad and have a waltz.’—I didn’t want to -accept; but my sister likes waltzing and salad, and I had to let her -have her way. So we went to the Grand Salon. Fanchon danced with -Finemouche; so far, everything went well enough. But, as luck would have -it, in comes Beauvisage, a fellow who works in a pork shop on our -street. He’s another fellow who makes love to all the girls, and who’s -taken it into his head to have a passion for me.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t seem to lack adorers, Nicette.”</p> - -<p>“I have one or two, but it ain’t my fault. God knows, I always receive -’em with my fists closed. But these men! the crueler you are, the more -they hang on! I have shown Monsieur Beauvisage that I don’t like his -attentions; I always throw his presents in his face; but it don’t make -any difference: just as sure as I leave my stand for a minute, when I -come back I find a sausage among my roses, or a pig’s foot on my -footwarmer. Why, the other day, my birthday, he actually came to wish me -many happy returns, with a white pudding, and truffled at that! But all -that don’t touch my heart; I told him that I wouldn’t have him, before -all the old gossips of the quarter; and I threw his pudding in his<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a> -face. He went away in a rage, swearing that he’d kidnap me. So you can -imagine that I shivered with fright when I saw him come into the Grand -Salon, especially as I know what a hot-headed fellow he is.—Would you -believe, monsieur, he had the cheek to ask me to dance, just as if -nothing had happened! I refused him flat, because I ain’t two-faced. He -tried to force me to dance; Finemouche came running up and ordered him -to let me alone instantly, at which he held me all the tighter. Cadet -handled him so rough that they went out to fight. My sister Fanchon -blamed me, because it made her mad to have her lover fight for me. But -the worst of it all is that Finemouche, who had drunk a good deal with -his salad, was beaten by Beauvisage. Fanchon ran off as soon as she saw -her lover on the ground; I tried to do the same, but my tormentor ran -after me. At last I caught sight of you, monsieur, and that gave me -courage; I was sure you’d protect me; I grabbed your arm, and that’s -all.”</p> - -<p>Nicette’s story interested me; and the thing that pleased me most was -that she seemed to be virtuous and had no lover.—“What difference did -that make to you?” you will say; “as you were a young man in society, of -course you would not make love to a flower girl.” True; I had no such -purpose; and yet, I became conscious that for some moments I had been -pressing the girl’s arm more tenderly than before. But it was because I -was distraught.</p> - -<p>“Do you think my mother will beat me, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why she should be angry; you have done nothing wrong.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! in the first place, we shouldn’t have gone to the Grand Salon.”</p> - -<p>“That was your sister’s fault.<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but she’ll say it was mine. And then, I’ll tell you something. My -mother’s inclined to favor Beauvisage, who shuts her eyes with galantine -and never comes to the house without a chitterling eight inches long. -Mother’s crazy over chitterlings, and she’d like to have me marry the -pork man, so that she could always have a pig’s pudding on hand. But I -have always refused to hear with that ear, and since then they all look -crosswise at me at home. So they’ll lay the quarrel and the whole row on -my shoulders. Oh! mon Dieu! I shall be beaten, I am sure!”</p> - -<p>“Poor Nicette! I promise you that I will speak to your mother in your -behalf.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I beg you to! You see, she’s quite capable of not letting me in, -and making me spend the night in the street! That miserable Beauvisage! -he’s the cause of it all! I’d rather jump into the river than be his -wife!”</p> - -<p>“Can you say as much about Finemouche?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; I want a husband to my taste, and I don’t like any of -those jokers.”</p> - -<p>“Then you have no lover?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“But, at your age, one ought to love.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’m in no hurry. But we’re almost there, monsieur, we’re almost -there. Ah! how my heart thumps!”</p> - -<p>I felt that she was really trembling, and, to encourage her, I took one -of her hands and pressed it. She made no resistance, she was thinking of -nothing but her mother.</p> - -<p>At last we reached Rue Sainte-Marguerite; Nicette dared not go any -farther.</p> - -<p>“There’s the place, monsieur,” she said; “that house next to the porte -cochère.”</p> - -<p>“Well, let us go there.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! wait just a minute, till I can breathe!<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Why are you so frightened? Am I not here?”</p> - -<p>“Pardine! perhaps mother won’t even let you in!”</p> - -<p>“We will make her listen to reason.”</p> - -<p>“That will be hard.”</p> - -<p>“Your sister is more to blame than you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but she’s fond of my sister, and she don’t like me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we haven’t come all this distance not to try our luck.”</p> - -<p>“That is true, monsieur. Come on, let’s go to the house.”</p> - -<p>We arrived in front of Madame Jérôme’s shop; I had learned from Nicette -that that was her mother’s name. Everything was tightly closed and -perfectly still; no light could be seen inside the house.</p> - -<p>“Does your mother sleep in the shop?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; at the back.”</p> - -<p>“We must knock.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! if only my sister hasn’t got home!”</p> - -<p>“Let’s knock, in any event.”</p> - -<p>I knocked, for Nicette had not the requisite courage; there was no -reply.</p> - -<p>“She sleeps very soundly,” I said to the girl.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, monsieur! that means that she don’t intend to let me in.”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! she’ll have to answer.”</p> - -<p>I knocked again; we heard a movement inside, then someone approached the -door, and a hoarse voice demanded:</p> - -<p>“Who’s that knocking at this time of night?”</p> - -<p>“It’s me, mother.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! it’s you, is it, you shameless hussy! and you think I’ll let you in -after midnight, when you’ve been<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a> setting men to fighting and turning a -whole quarter upside down! Off with you this minute, and don’t ever let -me see you again!”</p> - -<p>“Mother! please let me in; my sister has deceived you.”</p> - -<p>“No, no; I know the whole story. You’re a cursed little pig-headed fool! -Ah! you don’t choose to be a pork man’s wife, don’t you? All right! go -and walk the streets; we’ll see if you have pig’s pudding to eat every -day!”</p> - -<p>Nicette wept. I thought that it was time for me to intervene in the -quarrel.</p> - -<p>“Madame,” I called through the door, in a voice which I tried to make -imposing, “your daughter has done no wrong; you are scolding her most -unjustly; and if you leave her in the street, you will expose her to the -risk of doing what you will regret.”</p> - -<p>I waited for a reply; none was forthcoming, but I heard someone removing -the iron bars, as if to open the shop. I went up to Nicette.</p> - -<p>“You see,” said I, “my voice and my remonstrance have produced some -effect. I was certain that I could pacify your mother. Come, dry your -tears; she is coming, and I promise you that I will make her listen to -reason, and that she won’t leave you to sleep in the street.”</p> - -<p>Nicette listened, but she still doubted my ability to obtain her pardon. -Meanwhile, the noise continued, and the door did, in fact, open. Madame -Jérôme appeared on the threshold, wearing a dressing jacket and a -nightcap. I stepped forward to intercede for the girl, who dared not -stir; I was about to begin a sentence which I thought well adapted to -touch a mother’s heart, but Madame Jérôme did not give me time.<a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a></p> - -<p>“So you’re the man,” she cried, “who brings this boldface home, and -undertakes to preach to me and to teach me how to manage my daughters! -Take that to pay you for your trouble!”</p> - -<p>As she spoke, the fruit seller dealt me a buffet that sent me reeling -toward the other side of the street; then she drew back into her shop -and slammed the door in our faces.</p> - -<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV<br /><br /> -<small>MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND</small></h2> - -<p>For five minutes I did not say a word to Nicette. Madame Jérôme’s blow -had cooled my zeal in the girl’s cause very materially. I could not -forbear reflecting upon the various events of the evening, and I seemed -to detect therein a fatality which made me pay dearly for all my -attempts at seduction.</p> - -<p>For following a working girl, the tip of whose finger I had not been -allowed to squeeze, I had been spattered with filth on Rue des Rosiers; -for playing the gallant and making myself agreeable to a -<i>petite-maîtresse</i> who bestowed divers exceedingly soft glances upon me, -I had fallen in with an infernal cab driver, who had driven me to a -strange quarter of the city, a long way from my own home; and lastly, -for consenting to act as the protector of a young flower girl, whom I -undertook to reconcile with her mother, I had received a well-aimed blow -on the head. This last catastrophe seemed to me rank injustice on the -part of Providence; for to take Nicette home to Madame Jérôme was a very -kind action. What nonsense it is to<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a> talk about a benefaction never -being wasted! But my cheek began to burn less hotly, and my ill humor -became less pronounced. It was not Nicette’s fault that I had received -that blow. I determined to make the best of my predicament and to -console the poor child, whose distress was much augmented by this last -accident.</p> - -<p>“You are right, Nicette; your mother is very unkind.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, monsieur! What did I tell you? I am awful sorry for what -happened to you; but if you hadn’t been there, I should have been beaten -much worse than that.”</p> - -<p>“In that case, it is clear that all is for the best.”</p> - -<p>“My mother’s very quick!”</p> - -<p>“That is true.”</p> - -<p>“She has a light hand.”</p> - -<p>“I found it rather heavy!”</p> - -<p>“She cuffs me for a <i>yes</i> or a <i>no</i>; but it’s worse than ever, since I -refused Beauvisage. Ah! I am very unhappy! It wouldn’t take much to make -me jump into the Canal de l’Ourcq.”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, be calm; the most urgent thing now is to find out where you -can go to pass the night, as your mother really refuses to admit you. -Have you any relations in this quarter?”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! no, not a soul; I have an aunt in Faubourg Saint-Denis; but -she wouldn’t take me in—she’d be too much afraid of having a row with -my mother.”</p> - -<p>“Madame Jérôme is a general terror, I see.”</p> - -<p>“Alas! yes.”</p> - -<p>“Where will you sleep, then?”</p> - -<p>“At your house, monsieur, with your permission; or else in the street.”</p> - -<p>There was in Nicette’s suggestion such childlike innocence, or such -shameless effrontery, that I could not<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a> restrain a start of surprise. It -is difficult to believe in the innocence and naïveté of a flower girl. -And yet, in her language there was something so sincere, so persuasive; -and on the other hand, her eyes, whose expression was so soft and tender -when they were not bathed in tears, her little retroussé nose, the way -in which she had seized my arm, and, lastly, this barefaced proposal to -pass the night in a young man’s apartment—all these things threw my -mind into a state of uncertainty to which I tried in vain to put an end.</p> - -<p>However, I was obliged to make up my mind. Nicette was gazing at me, -awaiting my answer; her eyes implored me. My heart was weak.</p> - -<p>“Come with me,” I said at last.</p> - -<p>“Ah! monsieur, how good you are! how I thank you!”</p> - -<p>Again she took possession of my arm, and we started for Rue -Saint-Florentin. This time we made the journey in silence. I was musing -upon the singularity of the adventure that had happened to me. The idea -of my taking a street corner huckster home with me, to sleep in my -rooms! And remember, reader, that I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, near -the Tuileries; you will divine, from that detail, that I was something -of a swell, but a swell who followed grisettes. Oh! it was simply as a -pastime. I was not in the least conceited, I beg you to believe; and if -an impulse which I could not control drew me constantly toward the fair -sex, and led me to overlook rank and social station, I may say with -Boileau:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“’Twas destiny’s fault!”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>But I was not one of those persons, either, who defy all the -proprieties; I did not wish to be looked upon, in<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a> the house in which I -lived, as a man who consorted with the first woman he chanced to meet; -and in that house, as everywhere, there were malicious tongues! I had, -in particular, a certain neighbor. Ah!——</p> - -<p>It was necessary, therefore, to keep Nicette out of sight. I hoped that -that would be an easy matter, so far as going in was concerned. It was -at least one o’clock in the morning, and my concierge would be in bed; -when that was the case, if anyone knocked, she simply inquired, from her -bed: “Who’s that?” and then pulled the cord, without disturbing herself -further. So that Nicette could go up to my room unseen. But as to her -going away the next day! Madame Dupont, my concierge, was inquisitive -and talkative; she was like all concierges—I need say no more. The -whole household would hear of the adventure; I should be unmercifully -laughed at; it would be known in society. It was most embarrassing; but -I could not leave Nicette in the street. Poor child! the watch would -find her and take her to the police station, as a vagrant! And I -honestly believed that she was a respectable girl; I almost believed -that she was innocent; however, that would appear in due time.</p> - -<p>We crossed the bridges, followed the quays, and at last drew near our -destination. Nicette did not walk so rapidly as at first; she was tired -out by her evening’s work; and I—well, I leave it to you to guess!</p> - -<p>“Here we are!” I said at last.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad of it; for I’m awful tired.”</p> - -<p>“And I, too, I assure you. I must knock.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! what a beautiful street! and what a fine house!”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t make any noise when we go upstairs, Nicette; you mustn’t -speak!<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, never fear; I don’t want to wake anybody up.”</p> - -<p>“Sh! The door is open.”</p> - -<p>Madame Dupont asked who was there; I replied, and we entered the house; -the hall light was out and it was very dark; that was what I wanted.</p> - -<p>“Give me your hand,” I whispered to Nicette, “and let me lead you; but, -above all things, no noise.”</p> - -<p>“All right, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>I led her to the staircase, which we ascended as softly as possible. I -wished with all my heart that we were safely in my rooms. If anyone -should open a door, I could not conceal Nicette; I had not even a cloak -to throw over her, for it was summer.</p> - -<p>I lived on the fourth floor; to obtain a desirable bachelor’s apartment -on Rue Saint-Florentin, one had to pay a dear price, even if it were -very high. On the same landing with me lived a curious mortal of some -thirty-six to forty years, whose face would have been insignificant but -for the fact that his absurd airs and pretensions made it comical. He -was of medium height, and strove to assume an agile and sprightly gait -and bearing, despite an embonpoint which became more pronounced every -day. He had four thousand francs a year, which left him free to devote -himself to the business of other people. Moreover, he was poet, painter, -musician; combining all the talents, as he said and believed, but in -reality a butt for the ridicule of both men and women, especially the -latter; but he insinuated himself everywhere, none the less, attended -every party, every ball, every concert; because in society everybody is -popular who arouses laughter, whether it be by his wit or by his -absurdities.<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a></p> - -<p>We had just arrived at my landing, when Monsieur Raymond suddenly opened -his door and appeared before us in his shirt and cotton nightcap, with a -candle in one hand, and a key in the other.</p> - -<p>I did not know whether to step forward or to turn back. Monsieur Raymond -stared with all his eyes, and Nicette laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>I was determined that he should not, at all events, have time to -scrutinize the girl; I fumbled hastily in my pocket for my key, but it -was entangled in my handkerchief; I could not get it out, I could not -find the lock; the more I tried to hurry, the less I succeeded; it -seemed that the devil was taking a hand!</p> - -<p>Monsieur Raymond, observing my embarrassment, walked toward me with a -mischievous smile and held his light under my nose, saying:</p> - -<p>“Allow me to give you some light, neighbor; you can’t see, you are at -one side of the lock.”</p> - -<p>I would gladly have given him the blow that Madame Jérôme had given me! -but I realized that I must restrain myself; so I thanked him, unlocked -my door, and entered, pushing Nicette before me. I closed the door, -paying no heed to Monsieur Raymond’s offer to light my candle for me.</p> - -<p>But suddenly an idea came into my mind; I took a candle, opened my door -again, and ran after Raymond, seizing him by his shirt just as he was -entering a certain place. I put my finger to my lips, with a mysterious -air.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” queried Raymond, extricating his shirt from my -hand.</p> - -<p>“Don’t mention the fact that you saw Agathe with me to-night.<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>”</p> - -<p>“A—Agathe! What do you say? Why, you are joking!”</p> - -<p>“We have just come from a masquerade; she disguised herself for it, -and——”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say that there are masquerade balls in July?”</p> - -<p>“There are if anyone chooses to give one; this was for somebody’s -birthday.”</p> - -<p>“But that girl——”</p> - -<p>“She is well disguised, isn’t she? I’ll bet that you didn’t recognize -her at the first glance. The costume—the rouge—they change one’s whole -appearance.”</p> - -<p>“Faith! I confess that I didn’t see even the slightest resemblance.”</p> - -<p>“I rely on your discretion. To-morrow I will tell you what my motive is; -you will laugh with me at the adventure. Au revoir, neighbor; -good-night! Allow me to light my candle, now.”</p> - -<p>“Much pleasure to you, Monsieur Dorsan!”</p> - -<p>I left Raymond and returned to my room. My neighbor was not fully -persuaded that it was Agathe whom he had seen; but I had at least, by my -stratagem, reserved for myself an answer to his gossip; and if he should -talk, I could easily persuade people that he was asleep and had not seen -things as they were.</p> - -<p>“But,” you will say, “by that falsehood you destroyed another woman’s -reputation. Who is this Agathe whom you put forward so inconsiderately?”</p> - -<p>This Agathe is my last mistress, with whom I had broken only a short -time before; she is a milliner, very lively, very alluring, and very -wanton! She had sometimes done me the honor to come to me to ask -hospitality for the night; my neighbor had often seen<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a> her going in and -out of my room, so that once more or less would do her no harm. Her -reputation was in no danger, as you see.</p> - -<p>Now that I have told you about Mademoiselle Agathe, with whom Monsieur -Raymond did not know that I had fallen out, not being in my confidence, -I return to Nicette, who is in my apartment, waiting for me. It was -half-past one in the morning; but there is time for a great deal between -that hour and daybreak! My heart beat fast! Faith! I had no idea what -the night would bring to pass.</p> - -<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V<br /><br /> -<small>WHAT THE NIGHT BROUGHT TO PASS</small></h2> - -<p>“What a funny man that is!” said Nicette, as I entered the room with a -light. “When I saw that figure, in his shirt, that neckerchief tied with -a lover’s knot, that big nose, and those surprised eyes, I couldn’t keep -from laughing.”</p> - -<p>“I must confess, Mademoiselle Nicette, that you cause me a lot of -trouble!”</p> - -<p>“Do I, monsieur? Oh! I am so sorry!”</p> - -<p>“But here we are in my rooms at last, God be praised! I don’t quite -know, though, how you are to go out!”</p> - -<p>“Pardine! through the door, as I came.”</p> - -<p>“That’s easy for you to say! However, we will see, when to-morrow -comes.<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>”</p> - -<p>Nicette looked about her. She examined my apartment, my furniture; she -followed me into each room; I had only three, by the way: a small -reception room, a bedroom, and a study where I worked, or read, or -played the piano, or did whatever else I chose.</p> - -<p>“Sit down and rest,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Oh! in a moment, monsieur; you see——”</p> - -<p>She glanced at my couch and my easy-chairs; she seemed to be afraid to -go near them. I could not help smiling at her embarrassment.</p> - -<p>“Doesn’t the apartment please you?” I inquired.</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes, indeed, monsieur! but it’s all so fine and so shiny! I’m -afraid of spoiling something.”</p> - -<p>“You need not be afraid.”</p> - -<p>I led her to the couch, and almost forced her to sit down by my side.</p> - -<p>“I am alone, you see, Nicette; you have come to a bachelor’s quarters.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I don’t care about that, monsieur; at any rate, I didn’t have any -choice.”</p> - -<p>“Then you’re not afraid to pass the night with me?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; I see that you’re an honorable man, and that I needn’t be -afraid of anything in your rooms.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! she sees that I am an honorable man!” said I to myself; “in that -case, I must have a very captivating countenance. However, I am not -ill-looking; some women say that I am rather handsome; and this girl -isn’t afraid to pass the night with a good-looking bachelor! Perhaps she -thinks me ugly.”</p> - -<p>These reflections annoyed me; while making them, I looked at Nicette -more closely than I had hitherto been able to do. She was really very -good-looking; a face<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a> at once piquant and sweet, and with some -character—absolutely unlike what we ordinarily find in a flower girl: -she had the freshness and charm of her flowers, and she was the daughter -of a fruit peddler, of Mother Jérôme! There are such odd contrasts in -nature; however, I could but acknowledge that chance had been very -favorable to me this time. I began to be quite reconciled to my -evening’s entertainment; I forgot the grisette and the -<i>petite-maîtresse</i>, to think solely of the charming face at my side.</p> - -<p>As I gazed at the girl, I had moved nearer to her; I softly passed my -arm about her waist; and the more favorable the examination, the more -tightly I pressed the red gown.</p> - -<p>Nicette did not speak, but she seemed agitated; her bosom rose and fell -more frequently, her respiration became shorter; she kept her eyes on -the floor. Suddenly she extricated herself from my embrace, rose, and -asked me, in a trembling voice, where she was to pass the night.</p> - -<p>That question embarrassed me; I admit that I had not yet thought of -that. I glanced at Nicette; her lovely eyes were still fastened on the -floor. Was she afraid to meet mine? Did she love me already? and—— -Nonsense! that infernal self-esteem of mine was off at a gallop!</p> - -<p>“We have time enough to think about that, Nicette. Do you feel sleepy?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! it ain’t that, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! so there’s another reason, is there?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to be in your way; you told me you was tired, too.”</p> - -<p>“That has all passed away; I have forgotten it.<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, monsieur; show me where I can pass the night. I’ll go into -one of the other rooms. I shall be very comfortable on a chair, and——”</p> - -<p>“Pass the night on a chair! Nonsense! you mustn’t think of such a -thing!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! I ain’t hard to suit, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“No matter; I shan’t consent to that. But sit down, Nicette, there’s no -hurry now. Come and sit down. Are you afraid to sit beside me?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>But she took her seat at the other end of the couch. Her blushing face -and her confusion betrayed a part of her sensations. I myself was -embarrassed—think of it! with a flower girl! Indeed, it was just -because she was a flower girl that I didn’t know where to begin. I give -you my word, reader, that I should have made much more rapid progress -with a <i>grande dame</i> or a grisette.</p> - -<p>“Do you know, Nicette, that you are charming?”</p> - -<p>“I have been told so, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“You must have many men making love to you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! there’s some that try to fool me when they come to buy flowers of -me; but I don’t listen to ’em.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you think that they are trying to fool you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! because they’re swells—like you.”</p> - -<p>“So, if I should mention the word <i>love</i> to you, you would think——”</p> - -<p>“That you was making fun of me. Pardi! that’s plain enough!”</p> - -<p>That beginning was not of good augury. No matter, I continued the -attack, moving gradually nearer the girl.</p> - -<p>“I swear to you, Nicette, that I never make fun of anyone!”</p> - -<p>“All men say that!<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Besides, you are quite pretty enough to arouse a genuine passion.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, a passion of a fortnight! Oh! I ain’t to be caught in that trap.”</p> - -<p>“On my honor, you are too pretty for a flower girl.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! you are joking.”</p> - -<p>“If you chose, Nicette, you could find something better to do than -that.”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, no; I don’t want to sell anything but bouquets. Oh! I -ain’t vain. I refused Beauvisage, who’s got money, and who’d have given -me calico dresses, caps <i>à la glaneuse</i>, and gilt chains; but all those -things didn’t tempt me. When I don’t like a person, nothing can make me -change my mind.”</p> - -<p>She was not covetous; so that it was necessary to win her regard in -order to obtain anything from her. I determined to win her regard. But I -have this disadvantage when I try to make myself agreeable: I never know -what I am saying; that was why I sat for ten minutes without speaking a -word to Nicette, contenting myself with frequent profound sighs and an -occasional cough, to revive the conversation. But Nicette was very -innocent, or perhaps she meant to laugh at me when she said with great -sang-froid:</p> - -<p>“Have you got a bad cold, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>I blushed at my idiocy; the idea of being so doltish and timid with a -flower seller! Really, I hardly recognized myself.</p> - -<p>And the better to recognize myself, I put my arms about Nicette and -tried to draw her into my lap.</p> - -<p>“Let go of me, monsieur; let go, I beg you!”</p> - -<p>“Why, what harm are we doing, Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want you to squeeze me so tight.<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>”</p> - -<p>“One kiss, and I’ll let you go.”</p> - -<p>“Just one, all right.”</p> - -<p>Her consent was necessary, for she was very well able to defend herself; -she was strong and could make a skilful use of her hands and knees; and -as I was not accustomed to contests of that sort, in which our society -ladies give us little practice, I began to think that I should find it -difficult to triumph over the girl.</p> - -<p>She gave me permission to kiss her, and I made the most of it; trusting -in my promise, she allowed me to take that coveted kiss, and offered me -her fresh, rosy cheek, still graced with the down of youth and -innocence.</p> - -<p>But I desired a still greater privilege; I longed to steal from a lovely -pair of lips a far sweeter kiss. Nicette tried, but too late, to prevent -me. I took one, I took a thousand. Ah! how sweet were those kisses that -I imprinted on Nicette’s lips! Saint-Preux found Julie’s bitter; but I -have never detected a trace of bitterness in a pretty woman’s kisses; to -be sure, I am no Saint-Preux, thank heaven!</p> - -<p>A consuming flame coursed through my veins. Nicette shared my emotion; I -could tell by the expression of her eyes, by the quivering of her whole -frame. I sought to take advantage of her confusion to venture still -further; but she repulsed me, she tore herself from my arms, rushed to -the door, and was already on the landing, when I overtook her and caught -her by her skirt.</p> - -<p>“Where in heaven’s name are you going, Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“I am going away, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, I am going away; I see now that I mustn’t pass the night -here in your rooms; I wouldn’t<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a> have believed that you’d take advantage -of my trouble to—— But since I made a mistake, I’m going away.”</p> - -<p>“Stop, for heaven’s sake! Where would you go?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I don’t know about that; but it don’t make any difference! I see -that I’d be safer in the street than alone here with you.”</p> - -<p>I felt that I deserved that reproach. The girl was virtuous; she had -placed herself under my protection without distrust; she had asked me -for hospitality, and I was about to take advantage of her helpless -plight, to seduce her! That was contemptible behavior. But I may say, in -my own justification, that I did not know Nicette, and that, for all the -artless simplicity of her language, a young girl who suggests to a man -that she pass the night under his roof certainly lays herself open to -suspicion, especially in Paris, where innocent young maids are so rare.</p> - -<p>She still held the door ajar, and I did not relax my grasp of her skirt. -I looked in her face, and saw great tears rolling down her cheeks. Poor -child! it was I who caused them to fall! She seemed prettier to me than -ever; I was tempted to throw myself at her feet and beg her to forgive -me. But what! I, on my knees before a street peddler! Do not be alarmed: -I did not offend the proprieties to that extent.</p> - -<p>“I beg you to remain, Nicette,” I said, at last.</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; I made a mistake about you; I must go.”</p> - -<p>“Listen to me; in the first place, you can’t go away from the house -alone; at this time of night the concierge opens the door only to those -who give their names.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! but I remember your name; it’s Dorsan.<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t enough to give my name; she would know that it wasn’t my -voice.”</p> - -<p>“All right; then I’ll stay in the courtyard till morning.”</p> - -<p>“Excellent; everybody will see you; and think of the remarks and -tittle-tattle of all the cooks of the quarter! It’s bad enough that that -infernal Raymond should have seen you. Come back to my rooms, Nicette; I -promise, yes, I swear, to behave myself and not to torment you.”</p> - -<p>She hesitated; she looked into my face, and doubtless my eyes told her -all that was taking place in my mind; for she closed the door of the -landing, and smiled at me, saying:</p> - -<p>“I believe you, and I’ll stay.”</p> - -<p>In my joy I was going to kiss her again; but I checked myself, and I did -well: oaths amount to so little!</p> - -<p>“But, monsieur,” she said, “we can’t pass the night sitting in your big -easy-chair.”</p> - -<p>She was quite right; that would have been too dangerous.</p> - -<p>“You will sleep in my bed,” I replied, “and I will pass the night on the -sofa in my study. No objections, mademoiselle; I insist upon it. You -will be at liberty to double-lock my study door; you can go to sleep -without the slightest fear. Does that suit you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>We went back into my bedroom; I lighted another candle, and carried the -couch into my study, with Nicette’s assistance. I confess that that -operation was a painful one to me. However, it was done at last.</p> - -<p>“Now you may go to bed and sleep in peace. Good-night, Nicette!”</p> - -<p>“Good-night, monsieur!<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>”</p> - -<p>I took my candle and retired to my study, closing the door behind me. -There we were, in our respective quarters. I blew out the candle and -threw myself on the couch. If only I could sleep; time passes so quickly -then! And yet, we sleep about a third part of our lives! and we are -always glad to plunge into that oblivion, albeit we stand in fear of -death, which is simply a never-ending sleep, during which it is certain -that one is not disturbed by bad dreams!</p> - -<p>Sleep, indeed! In vain did I stretch myself out, and twist and turn in -every direction. I could not sleep; it was impossible. I concluded to -resign myself to the inevitable, and I began to recall the incidents of -my extraordinary evening; I thought of Caroline, of the charming woman -at the theatre, of that infernal cabman. I tried to put Nicette out of -my thoughts; but she constantly returned; I strove in vain to banish -her. The idea that she was close at hand, within a few feet of me, that -only a thin partition separated me from her—that idea haunted me! When -I thought that I might be beside her, that I might hold her in my arms -and give her her first lessons in love and pleasure—then I lost my -head, my blood boiled. Only Nicette’s consent was needed to make us -happy, and she would not give it! To be sure, that same happiness might -have results most embarrassing to her.</p> - -<p>I had the fidgets in my legs. I rose and paced the floor, but very -softly; perhaps she was asleep, and I would not wake her. Poor child! -she had had trouble enough during the evening, and I was afraid that -still greater trouble was in store for her; for if her mother persisted -in her refusal to take her in, what would she do? Until that moment, I -had not given a thought to her future.<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a></p> - -<p>But I had not heard the key turn in the lock; therefore, she had not -locked herself in. That was strange; evidently she relied on my oath. -What imprudence, to believe in a young man’s promises!</p> - -<p>Was she asleep or not? that was what tormented me. For half an hour I -stood close against the door, turning first one ear, then the other, and -listening intently; but I could hear nothing. I looked through the -keyhole; there was a light in the room; was it from caution, or -forgetfulness?</p> - -<p>But she had not locked the door. Ah! perhaps she had locked it without -my hearing it. It was very easy to satisfy myself on that point. I -turned the knob very gently, and the door opened. I stopped, fearing -that I had made a noise. But I heard nothing. If I could see her for a -moment asleep, see her in bed—for there, and only there can one judge a -woman’s beauty fairly. I leaned forward; the candle stood on the -commode, at some little distance from the bed. I stepped into the room, -holding my breath, and stood by her side. She was not undressed; I might -have guessed as much. I turned to walk away. Ah! those miserable shoes! -they squeaked, and Nicette awoke. I determined to change my shoemaker.</p> - -<p>“Do you want anything, monsieur?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“No; that is to say, yes, I—I was looking for a book; but I have found -it.”</p> - -<p>I returned quickly to my study, feeling that I must have cut a sorry -figure. The door was closed, and I was not tempted to open it again. Ah! -how long that night seemed to me! The day came at last!<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI<br /><br /> -<small>MADEMOISELLE AGATHE</small></h2> - -<p>It was long after daybreak. People were already going and coming in the -house, and I had not yet ventured to wake Nicette. She was sleeping so -soundly! and the preceding day had been a day of tempest, after which -rest was essential. But I heard a movement at last; she rose, opened the -door, and came toward me, smiling.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur, will you allow me to kiss you?”</p> - -<p>I understood: that was my reward for my continence during the night, and -it was well worth it. She kissed me with evident pleasure, and I began -to feel the enjoyment that one is likely to feel when one has no -occasion for self-reproach.</p> - -<p>“Now, Nicette, let us talk seriously; but, no, let us breakfast first of -all; we can talk quite as well at table. You must feel the need of -something to eat, do you not?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, I should like some breakfast right well.”</p> - -<p>“I always keep something on hand for unexpected guests.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me where everything is, monsieur, and I’ll set the table.”</p> - -<p>“On the sideboard yonder, and in the drawers.”</p> - -<p>“All right, all right!”</p> - -<p>She ran to fetch what we required. In two minutes the table was set. I -admired Nicette’s grace and activity; a<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a> little maid-servant like that, -I thought, would suit me infinitely better than my concierge, Madame -Dupont, who took care of my rooms. But, apropos of Madame Dupont, -suppose she should appear? We had time enough, however; for it was only -seven o’clock, and the concierge, knowing that I was a little inclined -to be lazy, never came up before eight. So that we could breakfast at -our ease.</p> - -<p>“Let us talk a little, Nicette. I am interested in your future; you -cannot doubt that.”</p> - -<p>“You have proved it, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do when you leave me?”</p> - -<p>“Go back to my mother.”</p> - -<p>“That is quite right; but suppose she still refuses to let you in?”</p> - -<p>“I will try to find work; I will go out to service, if I must; perhaps I -shall be able to get in somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“Undoubtedly; but who can say what sort of people you will encounter, -and what hands you will fall into? Young and pretty as you are, you will -find it harder than others might to get a suitable place, if, as I -assume, you mean to remain virtuous.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! indeed I do mean to remain virtuous, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“I know what men are; they are almost all libertines; marriage puts no -curb on their passions. Wherever you take service, your masters will -make you some unequivocal proposals, and will maltreat you if you reject -them.”</p> - -<p>“Then I will leave the house; I’ll hire myself out to a single lady.”</p> - -<p>“Old maids are exacting, and keep their young servants in close -confinement, for fear that they may walk the<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a> streets and make -acquaintances. Young women receive much company, and will set you a -dangerous example.”</p> - -<p>“How good you talk this morning!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t wonder at that; a drunkard is a connoisseur in wine, a welcher in -horses, a painter in pictures, a libertine in methods of seduction. For -the very reason that I am not virtuous, I am better able than another to -warn you of the risks you are about to run. Experience teaches. You did -not yield to me, and I desire to preserve you for the future. Don’t be -grateful to me for it; very likely, it is simply a matter of self-esteem -on my part, for I feel that it would be distressing to me to see the -profanation of a flower that I have failed to pluck. You understand me, -don’t you, Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, monsieur! I’m no prude, and I know what you mean! But don’t -be afraid! How could I give another what I refused you?”</p> - -<p>She said this with evident feeling and sincerity. Clearly she liked me; -I could not doubt it; she was all the more praiseworthy for having -resisted me.</p> - -<p>“After all, my dear girl, I don’t see why you shouldn’t continue to sell -flowers; it is better suited to you than domestic service.”</p> - -<p>“That is true, monsieur, but——”</p> - -<p>“I understand you. Here, Nicette, take this purse; you may accept it -without a blush, for it is not the price of your dishonor. I am simply -doing you a favor, lending you a little money, if you like that better.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! monsieur, money—from a young man! What will people think of that?”</p> - -<p>“You must not say from whom you got it.”</p> - -<p>“When a girl suddenly has money in her possession, people think, they -imagine that——<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Let the gossips chatter, and force them to hold their tongues by the -way you behave.”</p> - -<p>“My mother——”</p> - -<p>“A mother who refuses to support her child has no right to demand an -account of her actions.”</p> - -<p>“But this purse—you are giving me too much, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“The purse contains only three hundred francs; I won it two days ago at -écarté. Really, Nicette, if you knew how easily money is lost at cards, -you would be less grateful to me for this trifle.”</p> - -<p>“A trifle! three hundred francs! enough to set me up in business! Why, -monsieur, it’s a treasure!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to you who know the full value of money, and use it judiciously. -But things are valuable only so long as they are in their proper place.”</p> - -<p>“All this means, I suppose, that you are very rich?”</p> - -<p>“It means that, having been brought up in affluence, accustomed to -gratify all my whims, I am not familiar enough with the value of money. -This three hundred francs that I offer you, I should probably lose at -cards without a pang; so take the money, Nicette; you can give it back -to me, if the day ever comes when I need it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! whenever you want it, monsieur; everything I have will always -be at your service.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t doubt it, my dear friend; so that business is settled.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; if my mother sends me away, I’ll hire a small room, I’ll -buy flowers; I’ll be saving and orderly, and perhaps some day I’ll get -where I can have a nice little shop of my own.”</p> - -<p>“Then you will marry according to your taste, and you’ll be happy.<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps so! but let’s not talk about that, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Well! time flies; it’s nearly eight o’clock, and you must go, Nicette.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, that is true; whenever you say the word. But I—is——”</p> - -<p>“What do you want to say?”</p> - -<p>“Shan’t I see you again?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed; I hope to see you often. If you move to another quarter, -you must leave your new address with my concierge.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, monsieur; I won’t fail.”</p> - -<p>The child was in evident distress; she turned her face away to conceal -her tears. Could it be that she was sorry to leave me? What nonsense! We -had known each other only since the night before! And yet, I too was -unhappy at parting from her.</p> - -<p>She was certain to meet one or more servants on the stairs; but what was -she to do? there was no other way out. She promised to go down very -rapidly, and to hurry under the porte cochère.</p> - -<p>I kissed her affectionately—too affectionately for a man who had given -her three hundred francs; it was too much like taking compensation for -the gift.</p> - -<p>I opened the door leading to the landing, and stood aside to let Nicette -go out first, when a roar of laughter made me look up. That fiendish -Raymond’s door was open, and he stood inside with a young woman; that -young woman was Agathe!</p> - -<p>It was a contemptible trick. I recognized Raymond’s prying curiosity and -Agathe’s spirit of mischief. They were on the watch for me, no doubt; -possibly they had been on sentry-go since daybreak. But how did it<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a> -happen that Agathe was there? She had never spoken to Raymond. I swore -that he should pay me for his perfidy.</p> - -<p>Nicette looked at me, trying to read in my eyes whether she should go -forward or back. It was useless to pretend any longer; perhaps, indeed, -if there were any further delay, Monsieur Raymond would succeed in -collecting a large part of the household on my landing. So I pushed -Nicette toward the stairs.</p> - -<p>“Adieu, Monsieur Dorsan!” she said sadly.</p> - -<p>“Adieu, adieu, my child! I hope that your mother—— I will see—you -shall hear—perhaps we may—adieu!”</p> - -<p>I had no idea what I was saying; anger and vexation impeded my -utterance. But Nicette, who was moved by but one sentiment,—regret at -leaving me,—wiped the tears from her eyes with a corner of her apron.</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! this is really sentimental!” laughed Mademoiselle Agathe, as -she watched the girl go downstairs; “what! tears and sighs! Ha! ha! it’s -enough to make one die of laughing! But I should be much obliged to you, -monsieur, if you would tell me how it happened that I was at a ball with -you last night, and disguised, without knowing anything about it. Well! -why don’t you speak? don’t you hear me?”</p> - -<p>My attention was engrossed by another object. My eyes were fastened on -my neighbor, and my steadfast gaze evidently embarrassed him; for, in a -moment, I saw that he turned as red as fire; he began to shift about in -his confusion, tried to smile, and at last returned to his own room, -taking care to lock the door.</p> - -<p>“Ah! Monsieur Raymond, I owe you one for this! we shall meet again!” I -said, walking toward his door. Then I turned to answer Mademoiselle -Agathe, but she<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a> had entered my apartment; and as she was perfectly -familiar with the locality, I found her in my little study, nonchalantly -reclining on the sofa.</p> - -<p>“Do tell me, Eugène, what all this means? Mon Dieu! how things are -changed about! the couch in the study; the bed partly tumbled; the -remains of a breakfast. What happened here last night?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, I assure you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! nothing out of the ordinary course, I understand that. But this -couch puzzles me. Tell me about it, Eugène, my little Eugène. Because -you are no longer my lover is no reason why we shouldn’t be friends.”</p> - -<p>You are aware, reader, that Mademoiselle Agathe is the milliner with -whom I had fallen out because I discovered that she was unfaithful to -me. In fact, it was my vexation on her account that had led me to -indulge in those melancholy reflections during my stroll along the -boulevard on the preceding evening. But since then my susceptible heart -had experienced so many new sensations, that the memory of Agathe’s -treachery had vanished altogether; I had ceased to regret her, -consequently I was no longer angry with her. I realized that she was -justified in joking me about my serious air, which was not at all -consistent with our former liaison, and which might have led one to -think that I expected to find a Penelope in a young milliner. So I -assumed a more cheerful demeanor, and questioned her in my turn.</p> - -<p>“How did you happen to be there on my landing, talking with Raymond, -whom you could never endure?”</p> - -<p>“But this couch—this couch here in the study?”</p> - -<p>“You shall know all about it, but answer me first.<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’ve no objection; I went into the country yesterday with -Gerville—you know, the young government clerk who lives on the floor -below.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my successor, in fact.”</p> - -<p>“Your successor, call him so. We returned late; I was very tired, -and——”</p> - -<p>“You passed the night with him; that’s a matter of course, and perfectly -natural, in my opinion. Well?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I had to go away this morning. At half-past six, I crept softly -downstairs and was just passing through the porte cochère, when I saw -Raymond standing guard at the corner. He scrutinized me, and smiled -slyly.—‘On my word,’ he said, ‘I didn’t believe it was you; you were -perfectly disguised; the fishwoman’s costume is very becoming to you, -and yet it changes you amazingly. I’d have sworn that Monsieur Dorsan -was lying to me.’—I listened, without understanding a word; but your -name and what he said aroused my curiosity. I suspected some mistake, so -I forced Raymond to tell me all he knew; I haven’t stopped laughing at -it yet. Raymond was delighted when he found out that it wasn’t I who was -with you. I asked him if he was certain that your new victim was still -in the house. He said he was; for he had passed most of the night on the -landing, and had gone on duty at the porte cochère at daybreak. So I -came up with him, to make the tableau more interesting; and we waited at -least an hour, until it was your good pleasure to open your door. We -would have stayed there till night, I assure you, rather than not -satisfy our mutual curiosity.”</p> - -<p>“Gad! what a fellow that Raymond is! An old woman couldn’t have done -better.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve told my story; now it’s your turn.<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What do you want me to tell you? You saw a girl leave my rooms, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she was very pretty; a face that takes your eye; rather a large -mouth. But that costume! What, Monsieur Eugène! you, a dandy of dandies, -caught by a round cap! Why, I no longer recognize you!”</p> - -<p>“For what I propose to do, mademoiselle, the question of cap or hat is -of no consequence at all.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, you don’t propose to do anything, because you have done -enough.”</p> - -<p>“You are mistaken, Agathe. That is an honest, virtuous girl; she is -nothing to me, and never will be.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that? Oh! it’s as plain as a pikestaff: she came here to sleep, -so as not to be afraid of the dark; that’s all!—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“‘Go and see if they’re coming, Jean!’”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>“I realize that appearances are against us; and yet nothing can be more -true than what I tell you. The explanation as to the couch being in the -study is that she slept in my bedroom, and I slept here.”</p> - -<p>“For ten minutes, very likely; but after that you joined her.”</p> - -<p>“No; I swear that I did not.”</p> - -<p>“You’d never have been donkey enough to stay here.”</p> - -<p>“I understand that, in your eyes, virtue and innocence are the merest -folly.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! you are not polite, monsieur. But as I have never known you to be -either virtuous or innocent, I may be permitted to express surprise at -your virtuous qualities, which are entirely unfamiliar to me.”</p> - -<p>“I am not trying to make myself out any better than I am, and I confess -to you frankly that I attempted to triumph over this girl; but her -resistance was so natural,<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a> her tears so genuine, her entreaties so -touching, that I was really deeply moved and almost repented of what I -had tried to do.”</p> - -<p>“That is magnificent; and I presume that the virtuous and innocent -orange girl came to your rooms in order that her resistance might be the -better appreciated.—Ha! ha! what a fairy tale!”</p> - -<p>“You may believe what you choose. It is none the less true that Nicette -is virtuous and that she isn’t an orange girl.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! pardon me, monsieur, if I have unintentionally slighted your -charmer. Mademoiselle Nicette probably sells herring at the Marché des -Innocents?”</p> - -<p>“No, mademoiselle; she sells nothing but flowers.”</p> - -<p>“Flowers! Why, that is superb! Ah! so she’s a flower girl! I am no -longer surprised at your consideration for her.”</p> - -<p>“She certainly deserves more consideration than many women who wear -fashionable bonnets.”</p> - -<p>“Or who make them, eh?”</p> - -<p>“The argument is even stronger as to them.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur is vexed because I venture to doubt the virtuous morals of a -girl who comes, very innocently no doubt, to sleep with a young man, who -has himself turned Cato in twenty-four hours! Look you, Eugène, I don’t -care what you say, it isn’t possible.”</p> - -<p>“I shall say nothing more, because I attach no value to your opinion.”</p> - -<p>“Again! No matter, let’s make peace; and I will believe, if it will give -you pleasure, that your friend was the Maid of Orleans.”</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Agathe came to me and kissed me; she was almost on my -knees; she embraced me very<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a> lovingly, and I believe that it rested with -me to betray my successor, but I had no desire so to do. My mind was -still full of Nicette; I was angry with the woman who refused to believe -in her innocence and virtue, and who made sport of my heroic behavior. -When one has had to make such a mighty effort to do a good deed, the -person who seeks to rob us of our satisfaction therein is always -unwelcome. So that I received Mademoiselle Agathe’s caress very coolly.</p> - -<p>At that, the young milliner took offence in her turn, although she loved -me no more than I loved her; probably she had never loved me; but in -many people self-esteem takes the place of love and, of itself alone, -gives birth to jealousy. Agathe put on her shawl, which she had laid -aside when she came in, tied her bonnet strings, and gave me a courtesy -accompanied by a smile in which she tried to cast an expression of -irony, but in which anger and vexation were clearly marked.</p> - -<p>“Adieu, monsieur! I understand that the events of last night must have -fatigued you; you need rest, and a little solitude; I leave you to dream -at your leisure of the brilliant conquest which will furnish you with -constant enjoyment from this time on! I beg you to be good enough to -give my address to Mademoiselle <i>de</i> Nicette; I shall be delighted to -have her custom, in case she should think of changing her style of -dress; unless, however, you intend to take her under your protection in -that modest gown. I can understand that, to a sensitive and loving -heart, the round cap of virtue is preferable to the toque of frivolity.”</p> - -<p>And Mademoiselle Agathe took her leave, humming:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“‘When one knows how to love and please,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What else need one desire?’”<br /></span> -</div></div> -<p><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII<br /><br /> -<small>A WORD ABOUT MYSELF</small></h2> - -<p>Agathe had been gone for a long while, and I was still in my study, -thinking of the past evening and night. Somebody opened the door of my -apartment: it was my concierge, Madame Dupont, coming to put my room to -rights, as usual. As she came in, the good soul did not fail to glance -at everything within range; and a woman will see more at a glance than -we men can see in fifteen minutes.</p> - -<p>Fool that I was! I had forgotten to put the couch where it belonged! -that wretched Agathe was responsible for that! But when all was said and -done, I was master in my own apartment; I could arrange my furniture as -I pleased. I was not in the habit of talking with my concierge, and -Madame Dupont knew it. Nevertheless, I noticed that she hovered about me -and tried to enter into conversation.</p> - -<p>“It looks as though ‘twill be a lovely day; that’s very lucky, seeing -it’s Sunday; there are so many people who don’t have any other day for -an outing!”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I assented, “it is very fortunate.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! monsieur has moved his furniture, I see. Does monsieur mean to -leave this couch in his study?”</p> - -<p>“No; you may put it back where it belongs; I’ll help you.”</p> - -<p>“I see; monsieur has been trying an experiment?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was an experiment.<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>”</p> - -<p>“That’s like my daughter, who’s forever moving her son’s cradle from one -place to another. Last night, she put it beside the bed; but my -son-in-law wouldn’t have it there, because the child’s nearly four years -old, and it is embarrassing for a husband and wife, when—— Why, your -bed’s hardly tumbled at all, monsieur!”</p> - -<p>“I suppose that I didn’t move much.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur has already breakfasted, apparently? Monsieur was hungry -earlier to-day than usual.”</p> - -<p>I made no reply, but dressed to go out, being impatient to leave the -house. Madame Dupont stooped and picked up something, which she brought -to me with a mischievous air.</p> - -<p>“Here’s a little cross <i>à la</i> Jeannette, monsieur, that I just found -beside your bed.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! give it to me, Madame Dupont, give it to me; I know what it is, I -bought it yesterday. I have got to send it to someone; it’s to go into -the country, to our farmer’s daughter.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a pretty little cross; but I shouldn’t think it was new.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Madame Dupont.”</p> - -<p>And I hastily put the cross in my pocket, to hide it from the glances of -that accursed concierge, who, finding that I no longer replied to her, -talked on all alone, in order to keep the conversation alive.</p> - -<p>“They say the girl was very pretty, and that she was crying! That’s a -strange thing.”</p> - -<p>“What girl are you talking about?”</p> - -<p>“A little thing—a sort of—faith! I don’t know just what she was, for I -didn’t see her. To be sure, she passed my lodge, but she went by so -quick! brrr! like a bomb!<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Who told you anything about her?”</p> - -<p>“Madame Martin, Madame Bertin’s cook, who saw her when she went -downstairs to get her milk.”</p> - -<p>“Where did the girl come from?”</p> - -<p>“Oh!—I—they—that is—I don’t know anything about it, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>The tone in which Madame Dupont told me that she knew nothing satisfied -me that she did know a great deal. Raymond had probably tattled to -Madame Martin, and she to the concierge. And then the couch, and the -gilt cross: I had certainly become the byword of the whole house! Madame -Bertin would undoubtedly be the first one to hear about it, and Madame -Bertin was the mother of two pretty daughters, whose esteem I was most -anxious to retain. And yet it was a generous action, a sublime action -when performed by a young man, which was likely to injure me in the -opinion of many people. Ah! how untrustworthy are appearances!</p> - -<p>I was about to put an end to the chatter of my concierge by leaving my -lodgings, when she detained me.</p> - -<p>“By the way, monsieur, I beg your pardon—I quite forgot—I have -something for you.”</p> - -<p>“What is it, pray?”</p> - -<p>“I had entirely forgotten it; that girl is on my brain. It’s a letter.”</p> - -<p>“A letter! who gave it to you?”</p> - -<p>“The postman, monsieur; he brought it last night; you’d gone out, and -when you came home it was very late and I was in bed; for I couldn’t -even see you, and that’s how it was that——”</p> - -<p>“Morbleu! Madame Dupont, give me the letter, and spare me your -reflections!”</p> - -<p>“Here it is, monsieur.<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>”</p> - -<p>I recognized the postmark and the handwriting: it was from my sister, my -dear Amélie. But that reminds me that I ought to have told you before -this who I am, where I come from, and what my business is. I confess -that it never occurred to me; indeed, I should have been quite capable -of going on to the end without giving you any further information, and -my adventures would have been none the less simple in your eyes; for as -I have not to tell of mysteries, murders, abductions, substitution of -children,—which always produces an excellent effect,—promenades in the -galleries of the West, visits to subterranean caverns, moonlight -visions, encounters in murky caves, etc., etc., I shall have nothing to -explain or disentangle for my dénouement, and shall be constrained, in -all probability, to end as simply as I began.</p> - -<p>“But,” you will say, “it is always well to know with whom one is -dealing; in fact, it is customary to begin with that.”—That is true; -but I care little about doing as others do, and, moreover, it seems to -me that these never-ending stories of births and family anecdotes are -not adapted to afford you much amusement; for that reason, I shall be -very brief.</p> - -<p>My name is Eugène Dorsan; I am of a Parisian family; my father was a -king’s attorney [<i>procureur</i>]; they say <i>avoué</i> now, a title which lends -itself less readily to pleasantry. However, my father was a very -honorable man, so I have always been told, and I have never doubted it. -He earned a great deal of money, to his credit be it said; but he died -young, wherein he made a mistake; especially as his death was the result -of overwork. My mother was left a widow with two children: my sister -Amélie, my senior by a year, and your humble servant. Madame<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a> Dorsan was -rich; she was in a position to marry again, but she preferred to retain -her freedom; she was wise both on her own account and on ours; for, in -my opinion, marriage, while a most excellent thing, should be used in -moderation.</p> - -<p>My sister and I received a good education. We made the most of it, -especially my sister, who is naturally amiable, kindly, and gentle, and -whose only aim was to satisfy her teachers, and to demonstrate to her -mother her affection and her obedience. For my part, I am no phoenix, -but I have no glaring faults. My predominant passion is the love which -women arouse in me; but as that passion could not develop in my -childhood, it did not impede my progress.</p> - -<p>My mother had bought a beautiful country estate near Melun, and we spent -the summer there. Our childhood and youth passed away without accident -or trouble, without any important occurrences, and, I may say also, -without sorrow or tribulation. Indeed, what sources of affliction can -one encounter before the age of fifteen, when one is surrounded by -wealthy and generous kindred?</p> - -<p>How I pity the poor wretches reared in poverty by parents whom -misfortune often makes stern and unfeeling! Even in the days of -innocence, they know the afflictions of maturity; what a pitiable -apprenticeship to life!</p> - -<p>At the age of sixteen my sister married a young man of twenty-four, a -steady, orderly youth and a tremendous worker, who owned a cotton mill -at Melun. Three years after the wedding, our mother died. She had -economized in the interest of her children, and she left us ten thousand -a year each. Amélie, now Madame Déneterre, and her husband took up their -abode in our country house;<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a> and I returned to Paris, partly to seek -diversion from my grief at my mother’s death, and partly to complete my -acquaintance with the world.</p> - -<p>Six years had passed since then, and I had become so attached to the -seductive capital that I spent only six weeks, in the summer, with my -sister. I had not yet been to her that year, and I assumed that that was -why she was writing to me. That dear sister of mine, knowing that I was -not over-virtuous, was exceedingly anxious that I should marry, in the -hope that that would put an end to my follies; and every summer I found -at her house a new young woman, very pretty and sweet and well bred, -possessed of abundant talents and attractions and a very respectable -dowry. She was presented to me without affectation, but I knew what was -in the air. But, despite the attentions of her parents, the eloquent -sermons from my sister on the joys of wedded life, and the sighs and -sidelong glances of the young lady herself, I took my leave at the end -of six weeks without making a declaration.</p> - -<p>“Patience!” my sister would say to her husband; “next year, I’ll find -one who will turn his head, I’ll wager.”</p> - -<p>“So be it!” Déneterre would reply tranquilly; “we’ll put it off till -next year.”</p> - -<p>Now, let us read my sister’s letter:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind">“M<small>Y</small> D<small>EAR</small> E<small>UGÈNE</small>:</p> - -<p>“It is the last of July, and you haven’t come to see us yet; can it -be that life in Paris has made you entirely forgetful of the -relations who love you and think constantly of you and your -future?——”</p></div> - -<p>My future! Oh, yes! that means another marriage on the carpet. What a -mania it is of Amélie’s! always<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a> trying to induce me to marry! It is -worse than the conventional guardian of comedy. But let us go on:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“It seems to me that you must be tired of those numerous conquests, -of those gallant adventures, of those women who have no other guide -than pleasure, and who forget you as quickly as they adore -you.——”</p></div> - -<p>Aha! sarcasm! You are mistaken, my dear sister; I am not tired of making -conquests; those that I make are not all so simple as you think, said I -to myself. But in the provinces people are even more spiteful, more -evil-tongued than in Paris; and since my sister has left the capital, -she takes it upon herself to lecture me. But at heart she is kindness -itself! I cannot be angry with her for constantly thinking of me. But -where was I?</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“As quickly as they adore you. I often hear of you from people who -come here from Paris; I know that you are more heedless than ever, -that you think of nothing but your pleasures, that you deceive all -your mistresses, that they pay you back in your own coin.——”</p></div> - -<p>How well she divines the truth! it is astonishing!</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“We never hear of any sensible action on your part.——”</p></div> - -<p>Ah! my dear sister, if you had known the story of the night I had just -passed! And people slander me, and call me a libertine!—But you were -very, very pretty, Nicette! and I was really entitled to great credit -for my self-restraint.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“I trust, however, that you are not incorrigible. Come to us very -soon. We have pretty women here, too; they are modest and virtuous, -and I should suppose that that would give them an additional -attraction.——”</p></div> - -<p>Oh, of course! very pretty women! stiff, affected, prudish, or -simpering! And such costumes! In a word,<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a> genuine provincials—I need -say no more. As for their virtue, it is possible that—but it is not -safe to trust to appearances, as I know better than most; for I would -have sworn that Nicette was a little wanton.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“My husband sends a memorandum of a few errands he would like you -to do for him. He is organizing grand fishing parties for your -visit, and I look forward with delight to the prospect of embracing -you.</p> - -<p class="r">“A<small>MÉLIE</small> D<small>ÉNETERRE</small>.”</p></div> - -<p>I determined to go to Melun—in a few days. There were several business -matters that I must first attend to. Moreover, I should be very glad to -know what Nicette was going to do; I was deeply interested in that young -woman, and I did not propose to lose sight of her.</p> - -<p>I left my apartment and was going downstairs; but I could not resist my -desire to speak to my neighbor Raymond. I wished to thank him for his -discretion. I rang at his door; no one answered, but I heard a noise -within. I rang again, and that time the bellrope remained in my hand. He -did not open the door. I felt sure that he had bored a hole in his door -and had seen that it was I. No matter: he could not always avoid me; -meanwhile, that he might know that it was I who had broken his bellrope, -I tied it to my own.</p> - -<p>I went downstairs at last; and on the first floor I met Madame Bertin -and her two daughters, going to mass.</p> - -<p>I bowed; they returned my bow, but with a frigid air very different from -the amiable greeting they were accustomed to bestow on me. The two young -ladies stood aside without raising their eyes, and the mother’s face -wore a glacial expression that made me afraid to speak to her.<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a></p> - -<p>“This is the result of the infernal chatter of Raymond and Madame Martin -and the concierge,” I thought; “these ladies know that Nicette passed -the night in my rooms; that is to say, the mamma knows it, and that is -why she ordered her daughters to pass me without raising their eyes, -without smiling, and, above all, without speaking to me.”</p> - -<p>But you will tell me, the milliner also used to pass the night in your -rooms. Ah! that was very different. Agathe was dressed like everybody -else, and nobody noticed her; moreover, there were several people in the -house for whom she made hats; and no one ever knew certainly whom she -was going to see. So that I was able to retain Madame Bertin’s good -graces, and was admitted to her society, when Mademoiselle Agathe -honored me with her favors. And now I was tabooed because Nicette, the -pretty flower girl, had passed the night in my rooms. And you know how -it all came about. But the world is made that way; it judges by the -exterior before it knows what is within. Be whatever you choose, but -observe the proprieties; save appearances, and you will be received -everywhere.</p> - -<p>These reflections made me angry. I left the house, cursing those people -who see everything in the same light and refuse to depart from the -narrow circle that custom has marked out. I paced the streets angrily, I -dined angrily, I drank my coffee angrily, and my frame of mind had not -changed when, finding myself at the foot of the Champs-Élysées, I sat -down in a chair, the back of which was against a large tree.<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII<br /><br /> -<small>THE MAGIC LANTERN</small></h2> - -<p>I had been sitting against the tree for some time; the darkness had -dispersed some of the saunterers; and those who remained plunged deeper -into the cross paths, seeking, as it seemed, by preference the darkest -and least-frequented spots. Doubtless they had their reasons for that. I -do not know precisely what I was thinking about, when I heard heavy -steps approach and stop behind me. I turned and saw a man carrying what -we call a magic lantern. He set his apparatus down against the tree; he -had not seen me, or did not notice me. He lighted his lantern to exhibit -his pictures, whereupon I at once thought of Florian’s monkey; the -reminiscence made me laugh, and I prepared to listen to the owner of the -lantern, although I feared that the comparison would be unfavorable to -him.</p> - -<p>I heard him mutter between his teeth as he arranged his lights:</p> - -<p>“Ah! the hussy! the rascal! where has she been these three hours, since -she left me on the pretext of going to feed the brat? She’s playing some -game on me. If it wasn’t a show day, how quickly I’d drop the whole -business!—Never mind, Madame Trousquin, I’ll find a way to solve my -doubts; and if I see anything crooked, there’ll be a sharp and effective -reckoning!”</p> - -<p>The poor man was evidently jealous; he swore and stamped and glared from -side to side, but Madame Trousquin did not appear. By way of -compensation, the<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a> gleam of the magic lantern attracted a girl and a -young soldier, the latter of whom took his seat close beside the former, -bidding the showman to close the curtain around them. He enveloped them -in an old blue or gray sheet,—it was impossible to distinguish the -color,—and I could not help thinking that a magic lantern may be at -times a very great convenience.</p> - -<p>Père Trousquin began his performance, interrupting himself frequently to -swear at his wife, who did not return; and I listened attentively, -although I could see nothing, not being under the curtain; but I had an -idea that the spectators for whom the pictures were being explained were -not looking at them.</p> - -<p>“First of all, messieurs and mesdames, you see the sun, the moon, the -stars, and the little fishes. Farther on, the products of the soil, such -as trees, vegetables, animals, caves, waterfalls, rattlesnakes. Pray -examine Monsieur Sun, whom you can’t look at because he’s so bright; and -Madame Moon, who is full because she’s in her first quarter. See those -stars, how fast they travel, as if the devil was carrying ’em -off!—Three hours to put Fifi to bed! Ah! the slut! how I’ll make her -dance to-night!—See Venus, glistening like a pinchbeck pin! See the -shepherd’s star! The shepherd Tircis, I suppose, seeing what his -reputation is. And there’s the Three Kings, who are always together. And -the Chariot, that travels like those you see in the mountains of Russia. -And Mercury and Jupiter. And the Virgin and the Twins. And the Bull and -the Goat. Anybody can understand about them. Do you see the Scales? Do -you see the Scorpion?—a wicked beast he is! All these, messieurs and -mesdames, are planets that determine the nervous <i>infections</i> of the -people born under their <i>affluence</i>.<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a> The planet Venus is for wanton -women, the Shepherd for good-looking youths, the Three Kings for heroes, -the Chariot for coachmen, Jupiter for roistering blades, Mercury for -apothecaries, the Virgin for little girls, and the Goat for many worthy -gentlemen whom you know. Observe, messieurs and mesdames, in the middle -of that great black cloud, full of stars, between the Bear and the Ram, -you’ll see a big, hairy comet, with a tail longer than a fox’s. That -brilliant meteor has in all ages announced the end of the world; with -its tail or its head it is capable of overturning our globe, which is -held in place only by a thread, and broiling us all like chestnuts.”</p> - -<p>At this point, a movement under the curtain led me to surmise that the -comet had aroused great curiosity.</p> - -<p>“One moment, messieurs and mesdames, and you’ll see what you will see.”</p> - -<p>Père Trousquin pulled a cord to change the picture, and, after several -very emphatic oaths, resumed his explanation, not changing his voice a -quarter of a tone.</p> - -<p>“This, messieurs and mesdames, shows you the interior of the palace of -the great Kin-Kin-Li-King, Emperor of China and King of all the Pekins. -You perceive him seated in his beautiful gilt armchair of state, in full -ceremonial costume, surrounded by learned mandarins and national -guardsmen. He is giving a public audience and receiving petitions from -all the Chinese of the suburbs. Observe, in a corner, that father -leaning on his daughter and a bamboo stick; he has come to demand -justice upon a seducer who has made that poor innocent creature the -mother of five little children, and who feeds them on blows alone. See, -messieurs, how the ill-fated father’s features gleam with wrath and -indignation; read the sorrow, pain, and repentance in the girl’s eyes. -That<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a> man just to the left, wrapped in a brown cloak, with only his nose -visible, is the seducer, awaiting his condemnation. See how pale and -cadaverous his face is, how hollow his eyes, and how tremulous his gait; -well he knows that he will not be let off cheap. Farther on, in the -background——”</p> - -<p>A stout female appeared at this juncture, panting for breath, and -interrupted the explanation of the picture. I presumed that it was -Madame Trousquin, and the dialogue that ensued between her and the owner -of the lantern proved to me that my conjecture was well founded.</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ONSIEUR</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.</p> - -<p>Ah! here you are at last, you cursed street walker!—Farther away, in -the background—(<i>To his wife.</i>) You’ll pay me for this, that’s all I’ve -got to say to you!—Farther away, in the background, that wretched -creature whom the guards are taking away, and who is struggling and -writhing as if he had the colic, is a deserter, who has just deserted -and was going to the enemy’s camp on treason bent; his business will -soon be settled; he’ll be shot and then hung.</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ADAME</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>. (<i>during her husband’s explanation</i>).</p> - -<p>Hoity-toity! what are you making so much noise about? Didn’t I have to -put Fifi to bed and make the soup? And I’d like to know if it ain’t a -good, long walk from the Champs-Élysées to Rue Jean-Pain-Mollet!</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ONSIEUR</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.</p> - -<p>You lie, I tell you; you went off at five o’clock, and here it is nine. -Where in the devil have you been? Pull the cord.<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a></p> - -<p>Madame Trousquin placed on a stool a bowl which she had under her apron, -then assumed her post on that side of the lantern from which the change -of pictures was operated.</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ONSIEUR</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.</p> - -<p>This, messieurs and mesdames, represents a view of Athens, in -Greece.—(<i>To his wife.</i>) Put my soup on the charcoal and tell me where -you’ve been.</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ADAME</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.</p> - -<p>Why, I’ve been at home, I tell you, you jealous fool! I met Angélique -and talked with her a minute. Have you much of an audience?</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ONSIEUR</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.</p> - -<p>Observe the beauty of the sky and water. Observe the palaces, the -columns and temples, built by the Romans; note those magnificent -statues, of which but few fragments remain. See that circus, in which -they used to hold bull fights, to train the young men to be -strong.—(<i>To his wife.</i>) I’m satisfied that you’ve been gallivanting -with Grugeon.—See, in the distance, the famous Partiates fighting with -their fists like Englishmen, and playing the game of Siam with a large -roulette table.—(<i>To his wife.</i>) He asked you to take a glass of beer -in a private room.—That handsome young man you see at the right is -Alcibiades, with Socrates, his teacher, who is teaching him things he -don’t know.</p> - -<p>While I listened I saw the curtain move more violently, and I heard the -girl say in an undertone:</p> - -<p>“Oh! how stupid! Ah! how stupid! I tell you I won’t!<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>”</p> - -<p>Père Trousquin motioned to his wife to pull the cord, and resumed his -harangue.</p> - -<p>“This, messieurs and mesdames, is taken from mythology; it is the -magnificent Judgment of Solomon, called the Wise, who is preparing to -carve a little child, exactly as if it was a pie. Observe the -consternation of the little one as he awaits his fate, with his legs in -the air; observe the fiendish glee of that shrewish stepmother, who -looks on, dry-eyed, as if someone was going to give her a slice of -rabbit; but observe the grief of the real mother, who seeks to turn -aside the cleaver which already threatens the innocent child’s navel.”</p> - -<p class="nomb">T<small>HE</small> Y<small>OUNG</small> W<small>OMAN</small> (<i>under the curtain</i>).</p> - -<p>Ah! the villain! ah! the villain! he keeps right on. What a stupid!</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ONSIEUR</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.</p> - -<p>Don’t be alarmed, there won’t be any cutting done; nature is about to -speak.—(<i>To his wife.</i>) Give me my soup; I’m hungry.—The mighty -Solomon, looking at the two mothers with Argus eyes, says to -himself—(<i>To his wife.</i>) In God’s name, why don’t you get through with -the onions?—“This child cannot have two mothers; if it was two fathers, -that might be, such things have been seen.”—(<i>To his wife.</i>) You know -something about that.—“Now, there’s a snake in the grass here; the real -mother’s affection manifests itself by a deluge of tears; but this other -vixen of a mother, who’s as placid as Baptiste,”—(<i>To his wife.</i>) It -smells as if it was burned.—“has no maternal entrails; so the case is -decided!”—Pull the cord.—“This, messieurs and mesdames, represents -King David doing battle with the giant Goliath, the<a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a> terror of the -Philistines.”—(<i>To his wife.</i>) Why don’t you look and see if it’s -right?—See with what force David hurls the stone that lays the giant in -the dust.</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ADAME</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>. (<i>looking over the lantern</i>).</p> - -<p>This ain’t the one; you’re showing ’em the Battle of Marengo now.</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ONSIEUR</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.M<small>ONSIEUR</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.</p> - -<p>As I was saying, messieurs and mesdames, you see the famous Battle of -Marengo, won by the French troops.—(<i>To his wife.</i>) You always put in -too many carrots.</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ADAME</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.</p> - -<p>You don’t say! you want to choose your vegetables, do you? You’re -getting to be very particular. How much have you made to-day?</p> - -<p class="nomb">M<small>ONSIEUR</small> T<small>ROUSQUIN</small>.</p> - -<p>Eighteen sous.—Note the gunners and the cuirassiers; see how the sabres -play, while the cannonballs meet in mid air and the shells spread fire -and blood on all sides; see the hussars, the dragoons, the trumpets, and -the drums! hear the shrieks of the dead and dying, the moans of the -wounded and vanquished. See that young soldier on the right, defending -his flag with his teeth, because both his arms have been cut off; and at -the left, that officer who has three dead horses upon him, and who -forgets that he is suffocating while he takes aim at the enemy’s -general. See the dust, the flame, the smoke, the carnage, and the -corpses that embellish the picture. The action is superb, you see; the -battle <a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>waxes hotter and more furious——</p> - -<p>At this point, the explanation was interrupted by an unforeseen -catastrophe: the young woman and the soldier, who were evidently taking -the liveliest interest in the battle,—for I kept hearing exclamations -from the damsel and energetic monosyllables from her companion,—not -content with moving the curtain, threw themselves violently against the -magic lantern, at the most critical point of the Battle of Marengo. The -shock was so violent that the ambulatory theatre could not sustain it; -it fell backward, and the spectators fell upon it, while the manager of -the establishment was thrown to the ground with his bowl of soup, and -Madame Trousquin was entangled by the cords that she held in each hand.</p> - -<p>I was left standing alone in the midst of the devastation, for my great -tree preserved me from all peril. What a grotesque picture was presented -to my eyes! Solomon and the great Kin-Kin-Li-King were lying in a heap -with the gardens of the Luxembourg and of Athens; the sun no longer -shone, the moon was covered with oil, the comet shorn of its tail. Père -Trousquin was struggling under his broken lantern, still holding in his -hand the handle of his bowl; and the young woman had fallen in a posture -that disclosed beauty which would have put to shame the most perfect -moon that ever graced a magic lantern. The young soldier’s head was in -Père Trousquin’s bowl; his face was covered by carrots and onions; he -seemed to be caught in such a way that he could not extricate himself -from the trap. As for Mère Trousquin, she had fallen gracefully; her -cords had held her up, and the curtain of the lantern concealed what -might have caused her modesty to blush. However, as those who are least -hurt always make the most noise, Madame Trousquin’s shrieks were simply -deafening; her husband uttered<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a> the most frightful oaths, and the young -woman groaned plaintively. The soldier alone made no outcry; I believe -that he found the soup and vegetables to his liking. All the idlers in -the neighborhood were attracted to the broken lantern by the uproar, the -shrieks and oaths; and I was surrounded in an instant by a crowd of -people who came from I don’t know where; for a moment before I could not -see a soul on the Champs-Élysées. My retreat was cut off; I could not -make my way out of the crowd; but I was not sorry to see how it would -end. After shouting and swearing to their heart’s content, the -unfortunates tried to extricate themselves from the tangle they were in: -the soldier succeeded in uncovering his face, the girl rose and arranged -her skirts. Mère Trousquin disentangled herself from her cords, the -magic lantern was lifted from the ground, and Père Trousquin struggled -to his feet. The soldier tried to slink away with his companion; but he -could not elude the owner of the lantern, who insisted that he should -pay for the damages.</p> - -<p>“My glasses are smashed,” said Père Trousquin; “you’ve spoiled my sun -and moon, you’ve broken my Judgment of Solomon and my Chinese palace, -and ruined my views of Greece; you’ve got to pay me for all that.”</p> - -<p>“Go to the devil!” said the soldier, repairing the disorder of his -costume as best he could. “I won’t pay you for anything at all. What do -I care for your Chinese and your Solomon! your sun and moon look just -like the night lights you buy for a sou; and as for your fat, just put -it in your lamps.”</p> - -<p>“You broke my lantern, and you’ve got to pay me for it.”</p> - -<p>“You’re an old drunkard; if your lantern wasn’t firm on its legs, it’s -no fault of mine.<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>”</p> - -<p>“You tumbled against it during the Battle of Marengo.”</p> - -<p>“You threw it over, yourself, trying to imitate cannon.”</p> - -<p>“You made me break my bowl.”</p> - -<p>“You’re responsible for my tearing my breeches.”</p> - -<p>“Besides, my lantern is a moral and respectable show, and I don’t -propose to have it used for——”</p> - -<p>“I say! stop that, or I’ll cut out your tongue!”</p> - -<p>The soldier put his hand to his sword; the crowd instantly made a -backward movement, the girl clung to her friend’s arm, and Mère -Trousquin pulled her husband out of range, taking the stool for a -buckler. The two adversaries measured each other with their eyes for -several minutes, without moving. The soldier gave no sign of paying, and -Père Trousquin did not seem to be in a mood to let him go away until he -had remunerated him for his losses. Thereupon I concluded that there was -but one way to adjust the affair without bloodshed. The magic lantern -episode had amused me, and had entirely dispelled my ill humor; it was -no more than fair that I should act as mediator in the dispute. I alone -had remained near the combatants; for the bystanders held themselves -respectfully aloof from the sword and the stool. I felt in my pocket and -took out two five-franc pieces, which I tossed upon the damaged lantern.</p> - -<p>“There,” said I to the proprietor, “is the means to restore your palaces -and your planets; but take my advice, and another time don’t fasten your -curtain so closely round your audience. Children’s theatres are -frequented now by people of all ages; if you don’t believe me, ask -Séraphin, who receives <i>petite-maîtresses</i> at his show, because of the -darkness in the hall during his arabesque fires.<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>”</p> - -<p>Père Trousquin stared with all his eyes; his wife pounced on the two -coins, and the soldier was allowed to go his way with his companion; -which he did not do without bowing to me most respectfully.</p> - -<p>I too walked away, and turned into Rue de Rivoli. I looked at my watch; -it was only nine o’clock, and I have never been fond of going to bed -early, especially when I am in the mood for amusing myself. As the scene -of the magic lantern had put me in that mood, I determined to encourage -such a desirable disposition.</p> - -<p>How was I to amuse myself? There are thousands of ways in Paris, you -will say; but, in the matter of pleasure, you must never promise -yourself too much, if you wish to have a little. In a large assembly, -for six agreeable people you will find twenty bores; in a small party, -your friends may have business affairs that annoy them; the ladies, sick -headaches or the vapors; and you often pass a very dull hour where you -looked forward to much entertainment. The wisest plan, therefore, is not -to count upon anything. But I remembered that there was a grand fête at -Tivoli. It was nine o’clock; if I took a cab, I should arrive just at -the height of the evening.<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX<br /><br /> -<small>TIVOLI</small></h2> - -<p>A lovely spot, that Tivoli Garden! When I stepped within its gates, it -seemed to me that I entered one of those enchanted sojourns so -splendidly described in the <i>Thousand and One Nights</i>. The music, the -illuminations, the sports of all sorts, the fireworks—everything -combined to dazzle the eyes and excite the imagination. What a pity it -seemed when a vulgar face and a fishwoman’s costume marred the beauty of -the picture and reminded me that I was in a public garden, where any -decently dressed person could enter on payment of three francs twelve -sous!</p> - -<p>Before I had taken twenty steps in the garden, I had seen many things. -What beautiful avenues! How those garlands of fire burst on the sight! -Yonder, people gathered in crowds, gazed at one another, scrutinized -costumes, and sought acquaintances: it was the Boulevard de Gand of -Tivoli. Farther on, the lights became less frequent; an occasional lamp -guided your steps without betraying you. The couples were more widely -scattered; they no longer went about to exhibit themselves; some, -indeed, seemed to try to evade observation, to desire darkness and -mystery. Happy thickets! how often have you sheltered love and pleasure! -how many kisses have been given and received under cover of your dense -foliage! Ah! if you could speak!—But I seemed<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a> to hear voices close at -hand; I had thoughtlessly turned my steps in the direction of those -solitary thickets, where I, being alone, had nothing to hope for. As I -circled a clump of shrubs, I saw something white on the grass; a -gentleman and a lady were there, discussing some very weighty and secret -matter no doubt, for I thought that they were whispering to each other. -But my presence disturbed them; the lady, with a little shriek, pushed -her companion away; whereupon I walked quickly in another direction. -What pleasure can there be in interfering with that of other people?</p> - -<p>I determined to go back to the crowd, to leave those thickets, where it -almost angered me to be alone. Once more I was in the bright light. I -heard the rumbling of cars; I was near the mountains which all the women -ascend—the <i>grande dame</i> and the working girl, the milliner and the -modest laundress, the kept woman and the little schoolgirl. What delight -they all seem to take in the descent! And yet, the resistance of the air -disarranges their hair, loosens their hats, and blows their curls all -about; but they submit to that sacrifice for the pleasure of going like -the wind for twenty seconds. Keen enjoyment is depicted on all the faces -in the cars; only an occasional Englishman retains his gravity during -the trip.</p> - -<p>I was alone, so I did not make the ascent; it seemed to me that to enjoy -that pastime you must be seated beside a woman whom you like; then you -may put your arm about a slender waist and press a shapely figure; as -you fly down the incline, you may venture much; for you are sure of not -being repulsed, your companion being so bewildered by the rapidity of -the descent that she has not time to be angry.<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a></p> - -<p>All pleasures turn to the advantage of love. What pleasure is not -increased twofold by the presence of the loved one? In the dance, on the -cars, under the thickets, there must be two to be happy; without a -woman, how can one abandon one’s self to the most delicious sensations, -the most loving outpourings of the heart? Only through her do we know -that we have a heart. But enough of these ideas, to which the garden -gave rise! I walked across several squares, attracted by music; it was a -singer. Ah! I did not stop there; if I had, Tivoli would have ceased to -be a place of enchantment.</p> - -<p>Suddenly my eyes fell upon a number of armchairs swinging in the air and -travelling round and round, with ladies seated in them; it was a Russian -swing. Why did all the men walk in that direction and stand, with their -noses in the air and a smile on their faces, watching the chairs turn? -Ah! I saw that the wind lifted the ladies’ skirts more or less, so that -one could catch a glimpse of a leg and sometimes of a knee. The game -seemed to amuse the performers as much as the spectators. The ladies -apparently did not realize what it was that absorbed the attention of -the gentlemen, and did not hear the wanton jests in which most of the -latter indulged; for they continued to fly through the air, laughing -like madcaps. But the machine stopped; it was time to alight. I -remained, in order to see the ladies at closer quarters. Mon Dieu! -messieurs, you surely did not need to give yourselves a crick in the -neck to catch a glimpse of an ankle! So far as I could judge, you might -have obtained a sight of a great deal more, without much trouble. I -quitted the Russian swing for Bobèche’s performance, and found an -enormous crowd in front of the stage. I looked about in vain for a -chair; I could not find one that was<a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a> unoccupied. So I was compelled to -remain standing. I sidled in among the elect, and I saw something, at -all events, even if I did not see Bobèche; I saw the evident enjoyment -of all the young men who, like myself, were standing. And yet they could -not see anything; but they were with ladies who stood on chairs, and -they supported them, to guard against accident; their arms were passed -around the ladies’ skirts, and the ladies leaned on their shoulders. I -could understand how pleasant that must be. But I saw one lady who -seemed on the point of falling. Why did nobody support her? Because she -was a matron. But a becurled and befrizzled young woman, who would have -been pretty had not her costume been so absurd for a public garden, -hurried to the elderly lady’s side.</p> - -<p>“Wait, mamma,” she said; “I’ll put my chair behind yours, and then you -can lean on me; I’ll hold you up.”</p> - -<p>The mother consented to this arrangement, and the young woman remounted -her chair, which she placed behind her mamma’s; but I noticed that she -had somebody to support her; a tall, light-haired youngster kept his -eyes on her all the time; he stationed himself close beside her, looked -at her, and made signs to her. The young woman looked at nothing but -Bobèche; and as she explained the performance to her mother, she took a -little note from her glove and dropped it into the young man’s hand, -without the slightest confusion or affectation, and without interrupting -her conversation. Really, our young ladies display a fascinating grace -in all that they do; the world is progressing toward perfection.</p> - -<p>The tall youth crumpled the note in his hand; he longed to read it at -once, but he dared not. I was<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a> amused by his impatience; I was curious -to see what he would do. But an elderly couple arrived, dragging their -chairs after them; the woman planted herself directly in front of me, -almost resting against my face, while her husband deprived me of what -little view I had by standing beside her.</p> - -<p>I could endure it no longer; to induce me to remain with my head on a -level with the waists of all that multitude, I felt that something -deeply interesting was necessary. I was not at all desirous to maintain -my juxtaposition to the enormous circumference which obscured my vision. -So I extricated myself, not without difficulty, from the chairs and legs -and dresses that surrounded me. When I was outside the circle, I stopped -to breathe a bit; it is good to inhale the fresh air when one has seen -Bobèche, even out of doors.</p> - -<p>I followed a noble avenue of lindens which led to the large tract of -grass set aside for swings and seesaws and blind-man’s-buff and the -Egyptian bird, and a thousand other things, of which the prettiest are -those one does not see. I heard ladies’ voices imploring their escorts -not to go so fast; while the latter, to display their strength and -skill, made all the play they could with their loins and knees, at the -risk of making their companions in the swings swoon from fright: that -was a new way to make one’s self agreeable, I thought.</p> - -<p>I heard the voice of lamentation near by. It was a small boy of twelve -or thirteen years, who wanted to seesaw with a tall lout of eighteen at -least. No sooner had the latter gone to the ground on his end of the -plank which served as a tilt, than the little fellow at the other end -received a violent shock that threw him over the little iron bar behind -which stood those awaiting their turn.<a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a> The poor child fell; luckily, it -was on the soft turf, and he was not hurt; but he limped away, while the -tall zany plumed himself on the shaking-up he had given him. A very -pretty game is this seesawing; but I should advise those who indulge in -it to have the ground mattressed; for I know by experience that falls -are frequent and dangerous.</p> - -<p>But what was that report? It brought me involuntarily to a standstill. -Was I near a display of fireworks? No; the Egyptian bird had just been -set off. How proud the man seemed who had done the trick! To be sure, it -was only the eleventh time that he had fired. A stout party seized the -wire. I recognized him: it was Raymond. I should have been astonished -not to fall in with him, for the fellow was everywhere.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet,” he said in a bantering tone to the man who had just fired, -taking pains to raise his voice in order to attract attention, “I’ll -bet, my dear fellow [he knows everybody], that I release the spring in -three shots.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you don’t; it isn’t so easy as you seem to think.”</p> - -<p>“Easy! easy! if it was easy, there’d be no merit in it. I have an -absolutely accurate eye. Come, I’ll bet you an ice.”</p> - -<p>“That you do it in three trials?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; in fact, I’m certain that I shan’t have to try three times.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take your bet.”</p> - -<p>“All right; now you’ll see.”</p> - -<p>I halted, feeling perfectly certain, for my part, that my neighbor would -make a fool of himself in some way. The man who managed the machine was -reloading the iron box to which the spring was attached.<a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a></p> - -<p>“Get out of the way!” cried Raymond, impatient to display his skill, and -raising the bird as high in the air as his arms allowed.</p> - -<p>The box was closed and the man stepped aside; Raymond threw the bird -with such accuracy that the piece of iron, after following a zigzag -course, struck six inches from the target. My neighbor was not -discouraged, but threw the bird again—with no better success.</p> - -<p>“It’s all out of equilibrium,” he cried; “the wire’s crooked, it isn’t -my fault.”</p> - -<p>“This is your last shot.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! this one will do the business.”</p> - -<p>Raymond took aim for at least three minutes; at last the bird flew -through the air. It finished its flight; but there was no report.</p> - -<p>“I’ve won! I’ve won!” cried Raymond’s adversary; “you owe me an ice.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I don’t know whether you’ve won or not; that depends. I am sure -that the bird’s beak moved the spring, and the reason it didn’t go off -must be that the powder’s damp.”</p> - -<p>“You’re trying to crawl out of it! you’ve lost, and you owe me an ice!”</p> - -<p>“Well! I demand my revenge!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that’s fair enough; I agree. That will make two ices instead of -one.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll see about that. I say, my man, just go and overhaul the spring; -I’m sure there’s something out of order that prevented the thing from -going off.”</p> - -<p>To please his customer, the man opened the box and examined it. -Meanwhile, my neighbor had taken the bird; and, annoyed at having lost -his first bet, he scrutinized the iron beak, measured it with his eye, -and tried<a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a> to make sure that the bird was perfectly balanced, lifting it -carefully by the two wings.</p> - -<p>“I see what the matter is, I see what it is,” he said confidently; “if I -had examined it like this before, I shouldn’t have missed a shot. You -must hold the bird very lightly, with the tips of your fingers, and -throw it without any jerk.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, Monsieur Raymond threw the bird, which struck the head of -the unfortunate man who was looking to see if the spring was in perfect -order. The poor man was seriously wounded; he fell to the ground with -horrible yells, and everybody ran toward him. Monsieur Raymond took -advantage of the confusion to escape. He forced a passage through the -crowd, pushing everybody aside with his arms and elbows; he leaped over -chairs, ran like a madman through the groups seated on the grass, -tripped over the legs of a <i>petite-maîtresse</i> who was chatting -unconcernedly with a young officer, fell heavily upon her, and with his -stomach crushed a bust that luckily was made of tulle. The lady -shrieked, in order to make people think that it was her flesh that was -flattened out; and the officer sprang to his feet, in a rage at the -disappearance of charms which he had believed to be genuine. He seized a -chair and pursued Raymond, who was already far away; for fear lent him -wings.</p> - -<p>I amused myself by following my neighbor, who had lost his hat in the -scuffle. I saw him running on and getting into fresh difficulty every -minute; he ran into a swing, collided with the wooden horses, overturned -two girls who were dancing in a little open space, knocked over all the -tubs of shrubs that came in his way, and finally, to elude his pursuers, -rushed out into the main<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a> avenue, hoping to lose himself in the crowd. -But as he passed under a garland of colored lanterns, which was not far -enough from the ground and hung down a little at the sides, Monsieur -Raymond, trying to outstrip everybody, became entangled in the -illuminations; the rope broke, and all the little colored lanterns fell -on the promenaders, who, in an instant, were smeared with oil. The -ladies uttered heartrending shrieks when they saw their toques, their -feathers, and their gowns dripping with lamp oil; nor were the young men -less enraged, for their coats and waistcoats and frills were all ruined, -and diffused an execrable odor. Once more Raymond found himself the -object of general animadversion, and the poor devil, panting for breath, -was obliged to continue his flight. He leaped over a hedge, in order to -get away from the avenue more quickly; he did not know where to go; and -he finally entered the enclosure set apart for the fireworks, despite -the shouts of an old pensioner who told him that he could not go there. -He rushed through the bombs, mortars, rockets, pinwheels, and Roman -candles, while the pensioner shouted for the gendarmes to come to arrest -a man who was smashing everything he saw and seemed determined to -prevent the pyrotechnic display that was in preparation. The police -arrived; Raymond had barely time to hurl himself through a transparency, -which he burst with his head; at last he disappeared. Tranquillity was -restored; the damage that my neighbor had done was repaired as far as -possible; and I returned toward the centre of activity, laughing at -Raymond’s mishaps, which had afforded me abundant satisfaction for his -petty mischief-making that morning.</p> - -<p>“Faith!” I said to myself, as I walked toward the dancing enclosure; “if -I had come to Tivoli for no other<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a> purpose than to witness Raymond’s -prowess, my evening would have been a great success. But I am in a lucky -vein; perhaps fate has other meetings in store for me.”</p> - -<p>I paused near a juggler’s booth; the crowd was as large as in front of -Bobèche’s; but there was somewhat less confusion. Most of the spectators -were seated, and I succeeded, although I was in the last row, in seeing -a part of what was going on; the man did tricks with cards, stole rings, -and changed a glass of wine into a bouquet. All this delighted the -audience, who made no attempt to detect his confederates, and pretended -not to see the preparations which are essential for tricks performed -<i>without preparation</i>.</p> - -<p>“He’s a magician!” said a little man, opening his eyes to their fullest -extent and looking stupidly about him. “Faith! I can’t understand it, -can you, wife?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I want to see for myself,” replied the little man’s better half; -and she motioned to the juggler that she wanted to draw a card. He -approached, chattering in Italian, German, and English, the result being -an utterly incomprehensible jargon which completely enchanted the -audience.</p> - -<p>The lady drew an eight of spades, which she then replaced in the pack -and shuffled the cards; but our magician was certain of guessing the -card, because the pack he offered her contained eights of spades and -nothing else; and while he bewildered his hearers by his constant -jabbering, he slipped his hand behind the little man, who, when another -trick was being performed, was suddenly requested to rise, and was -stupefied to find under him the card that his wife had drawn.</p> - -<p>I walked away from the sleight-of-hand booth; but, happening to put my -hand in my pocket, I failed to find<a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a> my handkerchief. That trick was -better than any of the juggler’s; it had been done very adroitly; -luckily, I was not wearing my watch seal.</p> - -<p>Behold me at last before the enclosure consecrated to the dance. But it -was no longer good form to dance in the public gardens; only at village -fêtes did our young Parisian exquisites condescend to execute a balance -and a ladies’ chain in the open air. Here, none but hucksters, petty -bourgeoises, and grisettes dare to abandon themselves to the joys of the -dance; they know nothing of conventions, of good form; they want to -enjoy themselves, and they are so happy when dancing! their pleasure is -depicted on their faces! they hop and skip with such hearty good will! -By the faces of the fair damsels who were watching the dancers I could -see that good form is sometimes very ill-humored; but they avenged -themselves by criticising those who defied convention. They sneered and -laughed at the others, and made unkind remarks; good form and propriety -never forbid that. They ridiculed everything that they could not do; -they spoke slightingly of what in their hearts they loved: it was the -fable of the fox and the grapes again.</p> - -<p>But the spectators were most numerous around one particular quadrille; -the dancers were surrounded by a triple row. I was certain that there -must be some unusually pretty face there, or some particularly absurd -costume. I approached and succeeded in forcing my way to the front. I -looked at one of the dancers: she had an insignificant face and a -commonplace dress; she could not be the object of such universal -curiosity.</p> - -<p>“She is mighty pretty.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you wait till you see how gracefully she dances!<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>”</p> - -<p>These remarks were made by two young men who stood near me. Thereupon I -glanced over the different performers in the quadrille, and my eyes soon -rested on a young woman wearing a little cap with a bunch of roses on -it.</p> - -<p>I admired the young woman’s piquant face; her eyes were animated by the -excitement of dancing; her enjoyment made her bosom rise and fall more -rapidly, and the flattering murmur that arose on all sides brought a -vivid flush to her cheeks. What woman is insensible to praise? Did you -ever meet one who was, reader? If so, I advise you to register her name -on your tablets.</p> - -<p>But, as I scrutinized the pretty dancer, a sudden reminiscence flashed -through my mind: those features, that figure, the bunch of roses, and -the plan of coming to Tivoli. Unquestionably it was Mademoiselle -Caroline; it was my little flowermaker of the preceding evening. -Thoughtless fool that I was! I had forgotten her, and had been strolling -about the garden without trying to find her! But since chance had -brought me into her presence, I determined to make the most of it, and, -good form or not, to try to obtain a dance with her, so that I might -speak with her.</p> - -<p>But suppose that anybody who knew me should see me dancing at Tivoli! I -felt brave enough to defy the criticism and mockery of the young men and -the pleasantry of the ladies; and as I contemplated Caroline’s seductive -features, I said to myself, with Rousseau: “I must be happy! ’tis man’s -first need!”—Now, to be happy, it was necessary first of all that I -should dance with Caroline.<a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X<br /><br /> -<small>THE FIREWORKS.—THE FORTUNE TELLER.—THE SILHOUETTE STUDIO</small></h2> - -<p>The contradance came to an end, and the men escorted their partners to -their seats. I followed my little flowermaker with my eyes, and saw her -take her seat beside a plainly dressed old woman, evidently her aunt. -Her partner remained by her side; he was the Jules of the preceding -evening. In due time, another girl came up with her partner and sat -beside Caroline; this completed the party, which, as I remembered, was -to consist of four persons.</p> - -<p>I walked back and forth in the neighborhood of Mademoiselle Caroline and -her friends for a long while; I passed before the group and stared at -the pretty creature; but she paid no attention to me. I saw that I must -make up my mind to invite her to dance, but I had difficulty in doing -it; for I felt that I should look like a petty shop-clerk who was in the -habit of going to Tivoli to dance on Sundays. While I was making these -reflections, the orchestra played the prelude; that decided me, and I -walked toward the young women. But just as I was on the point of -delivering my invitation, the pretty flowermaker rose and gave her hand -to a young man, who had got the start of me, and who led her out to -dance. I had arrived too late; so much for listening to my absurd -self-esteem! However, I swore that I would not be behindhand for the -next contradance; and for fear<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a> of being defrauded again, I hastened to -the quadrille in which Mademoiselle Caroline was performing, and then -and there engaged her for the next one. She accepted, and I was -overjoyed; I stood near her, mingling my words of praise with those of -several other young men; and while her partner was executing the <i>avant -deux</i>, I complimented her on her bunch of roses and apologized for my -awkwardness of the previous evening. At that, she looked up at me and -smiled, and took more notice of me; I had reason to believe that her -scrutiny did not result to my disadvantage. From time to time, I -ventured a word or two to the effect that I had come to Tivoli solely in -the hope of meeting her; she did not reply, but I saw that she listened; -if she were ever so little of a coquette, I felt sure of making my way! -And she was, she must be; for all women are. The dance at an end, I -impatiently awaited the following one, when I should be able to talk -with Caroline, and it would be easy for me to find out how far I might -hope. In the briefest interview I can generally tell what manner of -person I have to do with, and I rarely make a mistake; not that I -believe all that they say to me, but I divine how much hope they are -willing to give me. Women, being more expansive than men, have a certain -<i>laisser aller</i> which says a great deal to one who is accustomed to deal -with them. When they have wit, a mere hint discloses it; when they have -nothing but jargon, they murder you with it; when they have nothing to -say, there is no possibility of mistake. Montaigne said: “Style makes -the man;” I think that he might well have said also: “Conversation makes -the woman;” but I beg his pardon for presuming to express my opinion in -conjunction with his.<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a></p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Caroline was escorted to her seat. While waiting for the -next contradance, which would furnish me with the means of judging her -more accurately, I strolled through the thickets that surrounded the -dancing enclosure. I preferred not to remain like a noodle beside the -little flowermaker, nor to parade up and down in front of her. But the -moment drew near when I might hope to squeeze her tiny fingers and press -her hand tenderly in mine. Give me the dance for lovers! you can boldly -reveal your secret sentiments, you can declare them without speaking a -word. I am inclined to think that that is why the young women have so -great a fondness for that exercise and enjoy themselves so heartily at -balls. How many avowals have been made and reciprocated while forming a -ladies’ chain or a trenise! and despite their active surveillance, their -mammas are powerless to prevent that.</p> - -<p>But the time passed; I strolled back toward my partner. Mon Dieu! what a -noise! what an uproar! what confusion in the garden! The first bomb had -just been fired, and everybody was running toward the great central -square, dragging their chairs, or carrying them in their arms.</p> - -<p>“The fireworks! the fireworks!” people shouted on all sides.</p> - -<p>What a rush! In heaven’s name, had they never seen fireworks before in -their lives? How they pushed and jostled and fought, to pass one -another! What a hurly-burly! But what had become of Caroline? I hurried -to the dancing enclosure—it was deserted; everybody had abandoned it -for the fireworks. Where my pretty grisette had been sitting, I saw two -men fighting for a chair, pulling it in opposite directions; each of -them<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a> finally carried away half, which must have been exceedingly -useful. I was not in luck with Mademoiselle Caroline; she disappeared at -the moment that I was going to join her. However, I did not lose all -hope; I assumed that she had gone to see the fireworks, and I determined -to try to find her there.</p> - -<p>I walked in the direction that the crowd had taken; but at the sight of -that moving mass, one half of which concealed the other,—for some had -climbed upon the chairs, while others clung to the frames,—I felt that -it would be absurd to look for anyone there. So I resigned myself to -wait until the display was over; perhaps the dancing would be renewed -then, and I should see her again. Meanwhile, I walked around the -outskirts of the crowd, and saw almost as much of the fireworks as those -who stood on their chairs. I also observed several couples, who, instead -of joining the crowd, went in the opposite direction and concealed -themselves in the obscure shrubbery; they evidently had not come to -Tivoli for the fireworks; but I am convinced, none the less, that they -had been waiting impatiently for them to begin, and that the display -would afford them as much pleasure as those who waited for it with their -noses in the air.</p> - -<p>There was a set piece representing Ixion crushed by the thunderbolts of -Jupiter; and I heard a gentleman explaining it to his family, while he -supported his wife and held up his little girl, who shrieked at every -explosion.</p> - -<p>“Who’s that tall man in a red cloak riding horseback on a bird?” -inquired the child.</p> - -<p>“That’s Jupiter, my dear, on a bird-of-paradise.”</p> - -<p>“And what’s that stick he’s shaking in his hand?”</p> - -<p>“That’s his thunderbolt to whip men who aren’t good.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes; like my school teacher’s switch.<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Who was this Ixion, my dear?” queried his better half.</p> - -<p>“A Roman, I believe. Wait and let me think. Oh, yes! he’s the one that -wanted to drive Jupiter’s chariot. He’ll be struck by lightning, as -you’ll see.”</p> - -<p>“What does that mean, my dear?”</p> - -<p>“That means that he’ll be thrown into that big hole, which is hell, and -once there——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! I understand; then he’ll be struck by lightning; quite right, -too.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! oh! oh! I’m afraid!” cried a little boy, who had hidden under the -chairs.</p> - -<p>“Hush, Octave! if you squirm so, you’ll make us fall. I won’t bring you -to Tivoli again; you’re too big a coward. For shame! a big boy, nine -years old, who plays with my national guardsman’s cap all day long, and -don’t dare to look at a rocket!”</p> - -<p>At that moment a mortar burst with a great noise, and Octave gave a leap -which overturned his mother’s chair; she fell, dragging with her her -husband and daughter, the latter of whom tried to save herself by -clinging to a gentleman’s coat; which coat, being decidedly old, could -not stand the strain; the skirt remained in the child’s hand, and the -owner began to shout <i>thief</i>! thinking that somebody had stolen his -handkerchief, and unable to find even his pocket. At the same instant -there was a more deafening and more prolonged report; innumerable bursts -of flame darted in all directions, twisting and writhing like serpents, -dazzling the eye and filling the garden momentarily with a magical, -supernatural brilliancy, as if the whole expanse were on fire; but the -noise, the glare, and the false daylight lasted but a moment; a few -rocket sticks, cartridges, and the débris<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a> of bombs fell in the garden, -and in many instances upon the sightseers, spreading terror and -confusion among them. I saw one lady whose hat was burned, another whose -shawl was riddled with little holes made by the sparks from a rocket; -and it seemed to me that that was paying rather dear for the pleasure of -witnessing a display of fireworks. I turned away, well pleased not to -have received a splash from the pyrotechnic drama, but greatly surprised -that I had not seen my neighbor Raymond in some transparency; for, -having lost sight of him among the preparations for the display, I -expected to see him appear during the final discharge.</p> - -<p>I returned to the dancing enclosure. My invited partner was not there; I -was compelled, therefore, to abandon all hope of finding Caroline. I -watched the throng of honest bourgeois, who, as soon as the last of the -fireworks was discharged, set off for their firesides, content with -their evening’s enjoyment, which was to last them throughout the week. I -strolled at random along the avenues, where the colored lanterns were -beginning to flicker and grow dim. Suddenly I heard a little bell, and, -although the hearty laughter of some young people near by, the -whispering of the ladies, and the distant sound of the dance dispelled -all possible illusion touching the reality of the hermitage, I went up -none the less to the abode of the so-called sorcerer, who, with the -assistance of a long beard, a wand, a pointed hat, a gray frock, and a -horn three feet long, undertook to tell fortunes at a very moderate -price.</p> - -<p>Young girls have always had a great fondness for having their fortunes -told. Those who are inexperienced are consumed with the longing to know -whether a handsome dark young man or a pretty blond will come soon<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a> to -tell them something; those who are not novices are anxious to be -informed as to the fidelity of their lovers, and at the same time to -know whether other men are in love with them; the pretty ones know that -they will make conquests, the ill-favored delude themselves concerning -their charms; desire arouses hope in all, and all are content. I was -agreeably surprised to see my young flowermaker awaiting her turn to -have her fortune told. I walked toward her; she saw me and blushed; that -was a good sign. But her aunt and Monsieur Jules were close by; I could -not speak to her. An idea came into my mind while the soothsayer was -finishing his séance with the young woman who was with Caroline. I took -out my tablets,—a forehanded man always carries them,—withdrew to a -lamp post, and with a lead pencil scrawled a most passionate and -appealing declaration, which was utterly devoid of sense, but would -flatter the girl, I felt sure.</p> - -<p>Then I rejoined the curious onlookers, taking care to get close to the -soothsayer. Caroline had taken her friend’s place, and the magic horn -was already applied to her ear, when I pulled the sorcerer’s frock; I -pointed to my note, on which I had laid a five-franc piece. He put out -his hand and grasped it; those fellows readily understand one’s meaning. -All this was done without attracting the attention of the bystanders. -Mademoiselle Caroline was told a thousand pleasant things, no doubt, for -she laughed like a madwoman; at times she seemed perturbed and -surprised, and glanced furtively at me. I was sure that the soothsayer -was talking about me; that knave knew his business; I heartily commend -him to the sex. At last he took the girl’s hand and handed her her -horoscope, slipping my note into her hand at the same time, and bidding -her to postpone reading it until she went to bed. It seemed<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a> to me that -Mademoiselle Caroline understood, for she thrust the paper into her -bosom before joining her aunt.</p> - -<p>At last she went away with her whole party, and I did not follow her. I -had an idea that my hermit could tell me all that I wanted to know; for -he had spoken to her in an undertone, and she had replied many times by -the medium of the horn.</p> - -<p>My man came to me and led me into his hermitage, where he dashed into -the subject at once, without waiting for me to question him.</p> - -<p>“Her name’s Caroline.”</p> - -<p>“I know it.”</p> - -<p>“She makes flowers.”</p> - -<p>“I know that too.”</p> - -<p>“She’s eighteen years old.”</p> - -<p>“So I should think.”</p> - -<p>“She hasn’t any lover.”</p> - -<p>“So I hoped.”</p> - -<p>“She means to remain virtuous.”</p> - -<p>“I doubt it.”</p> - -<p>“She has noticed you.”</p> - -<p>“I think it likely.”</p> - -<p>“She is attracted to you.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad to hear it.”</p> - -<p>“She works on Rue Sainte-Apolline, from eight in the morning till eight -in the evening.”</p> - -<p>“That is all I want to know.”</p> - -<p>I rewarded the invaluable soothsayer and returned to the garden, which -was beginning to be deserted. I walked in the direction of the exit, -enchanted to know at last where I could find Mademoiselle Caroline.</p> - -<p>As I passed before a silhouette booth, I imagined that I heard a voice -which was not unfamiliar to me. I stopped.<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a> People were disputing in the -small oiled-paper studio, and I recognized my neighbor Raymond’s voice. -What in the devil was he doing there? I listened; the maker of -silhouettes said:</p> - -<p>“It’s half-past eleven, monsieur; everybody’s gone, and I must shut up -shop, too.”</p> - -<p>“One more silhouette, my friend, and I’ll go.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve been here in my studio more than two hours, monsieur; I have cut -you out seventeen times already.”</p> - -<p>“Well, this will make eighteen. Oh! I can’t have too many portraits; I -shall find places enough for them! everybody’s asking me for one.”</p> - -<p>“I tell you that I must close my shop, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Close it, if you choose; I’ll stay inside; I don’t propose to go yet.”</p> - -<p>“You will go, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“One more silhouette!”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, you can’t have it.”</p> - -<p>I could not restrain a roar of laughter, aroused by the desperate -decision of Raymond, who, in his fear of being arrested for all the -stupid things he had done during the evening, had sought shelter in the -silhouette booth, which he was absolutely determined not to abandon. But -my laughter caused great perturbation in my neighbor’s soul.</p> - -<p>“Hark!” he said to the painter with scissors; “didn’t you hear? There’s -somebody close by. You told me the garden was empty.”</p> - -<p>“Pay me, monsieur, and be off; or I’ll go and fetch the guard to put you -out.”</p> - -<p>The threat of the guard made Raymond shudder; he realized that he must -leave the friendly shelter of the booth; but before venturing into the -garden, he thrust<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a> his head out of the door, to see if anyone was on the -watch for him. The first person he saw was your humble servant, whose -inclination to laugh was vastly increased at sight of the pale and -discomposed features of his neighbor. Raymond was uncertain whether he -had better hide again or not, when he saw me; but he made the best of -the meeting, and, being certain that I would not impose upon his -unfortunate plight, he clung to me as to the anchor of salvation.</p> - -<p>“My dear Monsieur Dorsan, how delighted I am to meet you! If you knew -all that has happened to me to-night in this infernal garden!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I know! it’s made noise enough.”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! do they mean to arrest me?”</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s very possible. The man that you hurt is in a very bad way; -the young men whose coats you ruined are collected at the gate; the -damage you did in the garden amounts to considerable, and——”</p> - -<p>“Oh! what an unlucky devil!”—And Raymond rushed back into the -silhouette booth, despite the remonstrances of the proprietor, who -seized him by the coat and tried to put him out.</p> - -<p>“Save me, neighbor, I have no hope except in you!”</p> - -<p>“Very well, I’ll do it; although you played me a most contemptible trick -last night.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I promise you—I swear—it was mere chance. I will contradict all -that I said, if that will gratify you; I will say that the girl slept -with me.”</p> - -<p>“No, no; if you please, Monsieur Raymond, you will be careful never to -mention her.—But let us begin by leaving this silhouette emporium. -Follow me.”</p> - -<p>“I am with you, my dear neighbor.—Give me my portraits; how much are -they?<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Seventeen, at forty sous, makes just thirty-four francs, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“The devil! that’s rather dear!”</p> - -<p>“It’s the regular price.”</p> - -<p>“Come, come,” I said to Raymond, whose lugubrious face was not worth -thirty-four francs at that moment; “you can make a lot of your friends -happy with them; that’s some little compensation.”</p> - -<p>Raymond paid, with a sigh, and seized my arm, imploring me to protect -him.</p> - -<p>“I ask nothing better,” said I; “but you must appreciate the fact that I -can’t stand my ground alone against half a hundred young men who are -waiting for you at the gate, and are to all appearance determined to -make it bad for you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, I can see that; but I can’t pass the night here; I have no -hat, and I should certainly take cold; and to-morrow night I am to sing -the aria from <i>Joconde</i> at a musical party.”</p> - -<p>“This is very embarrassing. Do you want to risk going out at the gate?”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed! These young men, when they get excited, are very brutal.”</p> - -<p>“I see but one way, then, and that is to climb over the wall.”</p> - -<p>“But suppose I am taken for a thief?”</p> - -<p>“Never fear; I have a scheme in my head. Come!”</p> - -<p>We took the darkest paths. Raymond followed me in fear and trembling. I -led him to the wall on Rue de Clichy, and bade him sit on the ground -behind a clump of trees.</p> - -<p>“Stay here; I’ll go out of the gate and come around to the opposite side -of the wall on Rue de Clichy. When<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a> there seems to be an opportune -moment for you to climb over without risk, I will give the signal.”</p> - -<p>“What signal?”</p> - -<p>“I will clap my hands twice.”</p> - -<p>“Agreed. The wall’s rather high; but still, rather than be beaten to a -jelly—I can’t hesitate.”</p> - -<p>“Adieu! patience; don’t make a noise, don’t stir, but wait for the -signal.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I won’t fail. You couldn’t lend me your hat, could you?”</p> - -<p>“Impossible; I have to sing in a duet to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Then I’ll put my handkerchief over my head.”</p> - -<p>“That will be very wise.”</p> - -<p>“By the way, if they question you at the gate, you must say that I’ve -gone.”</p> - -<p>“That goes without saying.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t leave me too long.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, I shan’t suggest your showing yourself while I see anybody -prowling about.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Dorsan! I am tremendously obliged to you.”</p> - -<p>“Adieu! I go to keep watch for you.”</p> - -<p>I took my leave of Raymond, laughing inwardly at his plight and his -poltroonery. At last I left the garden; it was high time, for they were -just going to close the gates. As I passed, I glanced down Rue de -Clichy, where my neighbor supposed that I was doing sentry duty in his -behalf; and I strolled leisurely homeward, leaving dear Raymond to wait -for my signal. His conduct of the preceding evening merited that little -retaliation; moreover, the most speedy revenge is always the best.<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI<br /><br /> -<small>BY MOONLIGHT</small></h2> - -<p>I pursued my homeward way, congratulating myself on my little game, and -laughing at the thought of Raymond’s fright and of the figure he must -cut waiting for me to rescue him. But soon my mind reverted to a more -agreeable subject. I thought of the charming Caroline. I had no doubt -that she had read my note, and on the morrow I would go to her shop and -find out how far I might hope. A not very moral scheme, I agree! I -proposed to try to seduce a girl, in order to gratify a caprice that -would last only a moment. But what would you have? I have some grievous -faults; I believe that unmarried men were put into the world to make -love to girls. Those girls who desire to remain virtuous should do as -Nicette did—refuse to allow themselves to be seduced.</p> - -<p>Musing thus, I reached my abode. It had seemed a short walk to me. To be -sure, the weather was magnificent; the moon was quite as fine as on the -preceding night; but my thoughts were not upon the firmament. I was on -the point of knocking, when a person who was sitting on the bench near -the porte cochère rose quickly and came toward me.</p> - -<p>“Ah! here you are, Monsieur Dorsan; I was waiting for you.”</p> - -<p>I recognized my little flower girl, whom the sight of Mademoiselle -Caroline had banished from my memory.<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> She had not forgotten me; she was -waiting for me in the street! and it was nearly twelve o’clock!</p> - -<p>“How long have you been here, Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“Since nine o’clock, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Why did you wait so long for me?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! monsieur, please forgive me, but I couldn’t stand it; I wanted to -thank you again, and tell you what I have done with my money.”</p> - -<p>“My dear girl, that wasn’t necessary; I am sure that you are behaving as -you ought.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you like it because I waited for you, monsieur? If you don’t, -I’ll go away——”</p> - -<p>I knew by the sound of her voice that she was ready to weep. Had I -spoken harshly to her? She was going away with a heavy heart, but I took -her hand and detained her. She heaved a deep sigh. Poor Nicette! could -it be for me? If so, I pitied her. In truth, I did not deserve to be -loved by a sensitive, faithful heart; and yet, I wanted women to adore -me and to be faithful to me: reconcile the two, if you can.</p> - -<p>“Come, my dear Nicette, tell me all you have done since last night?”</p> - -<p>“Won’t it bore you, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“No, of course not; don’t you know that I am interested in everything -that concerns you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, monsieur! if you—but here goes: in the first place, I went home to -my mother’s, because, after all, she is my mother, and, although she -turned me out of doors, I still owe her respect.”</p> - -<p>“That is true; you did very well. How did Madame Jérôme receive you?”</p> - -<p>“Very badly, monsieur! oh! very badly! She didn’t so much as ask me -where I’d passed the night. But she<a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a> proposed to me again to marry -Beauvisage, and said that then she’d forgive what she called my -<i>caravanes</i>.<a name="FNanchor_A_2" id="FNanchor_A_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_2" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> Has there been any <i>caravanes</i> between you and me, -monsieur?”</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_2" id="Footnote_A_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_2"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> In French slang, “love adventures.”</p></div> - -<p>“Certainly not; and then?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I refused; because, when it comes to marriage, I’m obstinate, too. -Then she beat me again, and that time you wasn’t there to stop her.”</p> - -<p>I could not restrain a smile at the artless way in which Nicette -reminded me of the blow I had received in her behalf; but I was -distressed by Madame Jérôme’s hard-heartedness: to think of turning her -daughter out of doors, beating her, and abandoning her, utterly without -resource, at the age when the simplest and often the only means of -support are to be found in prostitution! Ah! there are mothers unworthy -of the name!</p> - -<p>“Well, Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“Well, monsieur, I packed up my clothes and left the house, without -seeing my sister, who didn’t dare to show her face before me. I says to -myself: ‘I mustn’t whine about it; I haven’t done anything to be sorry -for. I refused the pork man, that’s true; but when it’s a matter of a -girl’s whole life, surely she has a right to do as she pleases.’—So I -went off with my little bundle. I don’t know how it happened, but after -walking a while I found myself in your street. I looked round for a -booth, and found one over yonder, close by, on Rue Saint-Honoré, near -the boulevard. I bought a bed and a chair; that’s all I need. To-morrow, -I’ll get a table for my bouquets; as to the flowers, I know where to get -them. I’ll set up a stand on the corner of the street, on the boulevard; -and when you want a bouquet, monsieur, I shall<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a> be there, close by your -house; and it will be easy enough for you to let me know. Have I done -well, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>Nicette had finished speaking, but I still listened. I was touched by -her attachment. She had wanted to be near me, I could see that; and -there was something so simple and ingenuous in the way she told me about -it, that it seemed that in acting thus she had simply done her duty.</p> - -<p>“You don’t say anything, monsieur; is it because you’re angry at my -leaving my old quarter to come—to this one? If that’s it, why, I’ll -look for another room to-morrow; I’ll go far away, ever so far, and -you’ll never find me in your path again!”</p> - -<p>“What do you say? I, angry because you are near me? It’s very wrong of -you to say that, Nicette! I thought that I had shown you how deep an -interest I take in you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I beg your pardon, Monsieur Dorsan, I beg your pardon; perhaps I -ought to have asked your permission—for you are my patron.”</p> - -<p>“Hush! what a child you are! I am very glad that you live in this -quarter. I shall see you often, and always with pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! monsieur, and so shall I. But I won’t take the liberty again to -wait for you at your door. I only did it to-day because I wanted to tell -you what I’d done, and to let you know where I am now.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t apologize, my dear girl; I am so glad to see you! Ah! Nicette, -what a cruel, yet delicious, night I passed so near you! I shall never -forget it as long as I live. I know that I shouldn’t have so much -courage another time.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s not say anything more about that, Monsieur Dorsan. I must go -home, for it’s very late, and <a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>I’m keeping you from your sleep again. To -be sure, this is the last time it will happen.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Nicette, your alluring charms, your graces, and your delightful -frankness, will always be with me in that room, where I should be glad -to see you again.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! don’t say that, I beg of you, Monsieur Dorsan. I’m too far away -from you—a poor flower girl!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! Nicette; if you chose——”</p> - -<p>“Adieu, Monsieur Dorsan! adieu!”</p> - -<p>She said <i>adieu</i>, but she did not go. I held one of her hands; she -repelled me and drew me toward her at the same time. My eyes were fixed -upon hers; we said nothing; but if my porte cochère had been open, I -believe that Nicette would have gone with me again. A sudden outcry -aroused us from that pleasant situation. A man ran along the street, -shouting <i>thief</i>! Nicette withdrew her hand, bade me a very affectionate -good-night, and fled. I tried to detain her, but she was already far -away.</p> - -<p>I knocked at my door and was just about to enter, when the man whom I -had seen running toward us, all alone, and whom I had taken for a -drunken man, rushed through the porte cochère and fell headlong in the -courtyard, crying:</p> - -<p>“Safe at last!”</p> - -<p>I recognized Raymond’s voice; I was curious to learn the end of his -adventures. The concierge, hearing the uproar, arrived on the scene with -a light, and we saw Raymond, his trousers torn from waistband to knee, -lying at full length in the courtyard, gasping with fatigue, and trying -to recover his breath.</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu!” cried Madame Dupont; “what has happened to you, Monsieur -Raymond? a pretty mess you’re in!<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What! is it you?” said I, in my turn; “why did you leave Tivoli without -waiting for my signal?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! I fancy I should have had to wait a long while for your -signal!”</p> - -<p>“You’re too impatient.”</p> - -<p>“I had been crouching in that corner for an hour, when I saw some men -making the rounds of the garden. Faith! that gave me a fright, and I -determined to scale the wall. But I was in such a hurry that I got -caught on some broken glass; I tore my trousers and cut the base of my -spine. On Rue du Mont-Blanc, I was insulted by some drunken men; indeed, -I think they meant to rob me; but I ran off, shouting for help, and here -I am in port, God be praised! But I shall remember Tivoli!”</p> - -<p>“You must bathe your back in warm water, monsieur,” said Madame Dupont.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’ll do that in the morning.”</p> - -<p>“You saved your silhouettes, I hope?” said I.</p> - -<p>“I believe I lost some of them when I dropped from the wall.”</p> - -<p>“The devil! that’s a pity! they’ll testify against you, and it will be -easy to recognize that profile of yours. I advise you to wear a false -nose and spectacles for a fortnight or so.”</p> - -<p>My neighbor, who knew very well that I was making sport of him, took his -candle and tramped upstairs without a word to me. When we were on our -landing, I nodded to him, with a smile, and entered my lodgings alone, -where I slept soundly. Nights follow but do not resemble one another: -that is what all women say a fortnight after marriage.<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII<br /><br /> -<small>VEXATIONS</small></h2> - -<p>My first thought when I woke was of my two young women. I cannot say -whether Nicette or Caroline first presented herself to my imagination; I -know that I was attracted by both of them. But Nicette was an honest -girl and desired to remain so; thus far I had acted honorably with her; -I determined not to try to ruin what I had done. I would be her friend, -were it only for the sake of experimenting upon a novel sentiment toward -a woman.</p> - -<p>As to Mademoiselle Caroline, I had formed a different estimate of her: I -did not believe her to be a novice; her little innocent air with -Monsieur Jules did not impose on me; she was on the lookout for a -husband, but she did not love that poor fellow; if she did love him, -would she listen with a smile to all the insipid nonsense that I -whispered to her? if she loved him, would she dance with other men? -Mademoiselle Caroline was a great coquette, and, in my judgment, -decidedly shrewd. And yet, she had treated me cavalierly enough when I -followed her on the street; to be sure, she was cross because I had -rumpled the finery she had prepared for the following day, which was at -that moment much more interesting than a new conquest, since it might be -worth a great many to her. But I should soon know what to expect.</p> - -<p>At noon I betook myself to the shop that my sorcerer had indicated. He -had not deceived me: among a number of saucy faces, I recognized my -charming dancer. The young women all lowered their eyes at sight of a<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a> -young man; but they all scrutinized me furtively. Caroline recognized -me; I could tell that by a certain embarrassment, by her evident longing -to look at me, and by the assiduity with which she attacked her work, -the better to conceal her confusion. It was necessary that I should -pretend to have visited the shop for some purpose: I asked for flowers, -wreaths, trimmings; they were all shown to me, but it was a man who was -obliging enough to spread before my eyes all the treasures of the -establishment, and the young women did not stir.</p> - -<p>That did not meet my desires, but I realized that I could not remain -there all day. I bought fifty francs’ worth of artificial flowers, for -which I paid cash; and I left my address, asking that they might be sent -to me during the day, as I was to leave for the country in the morning. -The man promised, and I left the shop. Caroline must have understood me; -but would she come? that remained to be seen.</p> - -<p>I returned home, informed my concierge that I expected some parcels I -had just bought, and that the messenger was to bring them up to my room. -I went up myself, and fretted and fumed like all young men awaiting -their first assignation, like all young women whose mammas keep them in -the house when they are burning to go out. An hour passed, and no one -came. Another hour had nearly elapsed, and I was on the point of going -back to the shop, when my doorbell rang. I reached the door with one -bound and threw it open; there stood Monsieur Raymond, laden with an -enormous pasteboard box.</p> - -<p>“What do you want, Monsieur Raymond?”</p> - -<p>“My respects to you, neighbor!”</p> - -<p>“But what brings you to my door, pray?<a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I will explain. Allow me to come in and put down this box.”</p> - -<p>And, without awaiting my reply, he entered my reception room and seated -himself on a chair. I remained standing in front of him, hoping that -that would make him cut his visit short.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me if I make myself at home; but my back is still painful. That -wall was devilish high.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want of me? I beg you to tell me, for I am in a great -hurry.”</p> - -<p>“Here goes: in the first place, I wanted to make my peace with you, -because neighbors ought not to quarrel.”</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul! I have no desire to quarrel.”</p> - -<p>“I’m very glad of that; then that’s all at an end. I was on the watch -for an opportunity to come here to speak to you; the opportunity came, -and I grasped it. Somebody rang at my door just now and asked for you.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that? just now? Who was it?”</p> - -<p>“A girl—very pretty, too; but not so pretty as the one the other -night.”</p> - -<p>“A girl! what did she want? pray go on!”</p> - -<p>“She brought this box for you, and said there was no message.”</p> - -<p>“Well! where is she? what did you say?”</p> - -<p>“I took charge of the box, telling her that you had gone out, so that I -might have the pleasure of delivering it myself and making my peace with -you.”</p> - -<p>“Great God! is it possible? Must you always meddle in other people’s -business, just to drive me mad? I’ll stake my head it was she!”</p> - -<p>I opened the box, while Raymond stared at me in amazement; he did not -know which way to turn, seeing the gleam of anger in my eyes when he -expected thanks.<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a> I found all the flowers I had bought, and, in my rage, -I kicked the box away. The bouquets and trimmings flew through the air, -and a garland <i>à la jardinière</i> lighted on Raymond’s brow; he dared not -remove it, because my outburst of wrath had stupefied him.</p> - -<p>After storming about and crumpling and mutilating my flowers, I threw -myself into a chair and my eyes fell upon my neighbor. At that sight my -anger vanished; it was impossible for me to keep a serious face when I -saw Raymond crowned with paper flowers and glancing about him in terror. -I roared with laughter; that reassured him, and he followed my example, -but his laughter was of that forced variety which resembles a grimace, -and not that inextinguishable merriment in which the gods indulge when -Vulcan fills their glasses.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Vulcan to find involved in this debate,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The gentle reader’d scarce anticipate.”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>“Well,” said Monsieur Raymond at last, still trying to smile, “your -angry fit seems to have passed over?”</p> - -<p>“I must make the best of it.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you satisfied with the goods they sent you?”</p> - -<p>“Much I care for the goods, Monsieur Raymond! you will compel me to -move.”</p> - -<p>“I, neighbor? Why so, pray?”</p> - -<p>“Because you seem to be stationed beside me here to thwart all my plans, -to drive me mad with rage!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand.”</p> - -<p>“Why, in heaven’s name, when people ring at your door by mistake, don’t -you send them to me? Why do you say that I’m not at home when I am? Why -did you undertake to deliver this box, when I desired to speak to the -person who brought it?<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>”</p> - -<p>“My dear neighbor, I am distressed—I was entirely ignorant——”</p> - -<p>“I beg you, Monsieur Raymond, as a favor, not to meddle in my affairs -any more, or we shall have a serious falling-out! You have quite enough -other occupation in the house, listening to the gossip of the cooks, -keeping an eye on the women, playing the spy on the girls, and mixing -yourself up in family rows, without disturbing yourself concerning my -conduct.”</p> - -<p>“I assure you, neighbor, that someone has been slandering me to you. I -am incapable—I love a jest, that’s the whole of it; but I never gossip. -In the first place, I am not talkative. If I were, I might tell you that -the lady on the first floor has two lovers; that her husband keeps a -mistress; that Monsieur Gérard, on the second, is in a bad way in -business, and that I’ve seen summonses for him in the concierge’s hands; -that Madame Bertin gives evening parties in order to get husbands for -her daughters; that her cook makes a handsome commission on her -provisions; that the cook at the rear of the courtyard has a lover she -carries soup to; that Gerville the government clerk is running into debt -and doesn’t answer the bell when his creditors ring; and a thousand -other things. But it’s none of my business; I have quite enough to do to -attend to my own affairs, without bothering my head about other -people’s. I took this box, thinking that I was doing you a favor, and -because I wanted an opportunity to make myself useful to you. It made -you angry, and I won’t do it again. After this, I’ll send away people -who want to speak to you, even when you’re not in. I salute you, -neighbor!”</p> - -<p>“By the way, one other word, if you please. What sort of looking girl -was it who brought the box?<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Why, very good-looking—that is to say, attractive.”</p> - -<p>“How tall?”</p> - -<p>“Medium.”</p> - -<p>“Dark hair?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; dark or chestnut-colored.”</p> - -<p>“Black eyes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; that is to say, dark gray.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! it was she!”</p> - -<p>“Who is she?”</p> - -<p>“That doesn’t concern you, Monsieur Raymond.”</p> - -<p>“True; I asked the question inadvertently. Adieu!—By the way, are you -going to Madame Vauvert’s to-night? There’s to be a grand party, a -concert, and perhaps dancing. I fancy there’ll be lots of people there. -I am going to sing the aria from <i>Joconde</i>. Monsieur Vauvert sent me -word that he should have a young woman who plays finely on the guitar, -and a gentleman who sings in Italian like a Bouffon.”</p> - -<p>“A most alluring prospect.”</p> - -<p>“I believe Madame Bertin is going, with her young ladies. The younger -one is studying a piece that she’s to play on the piano. But time flies, -and I have a lot of errands to do.—Au revoir, neighbor! I promised -Vauvert to bring him a ‘cello and a second violin to complete his -quartette. I must go and drum up my performers.”</p> - -<p>He went away at last. The infernal fellow was responsible for my failure -to see Caroline; for I had no doubt that it was she who had brought my -box. What was I to do next? If I went again to the shop, what should I -say? I had no idea; but I did not propose to have my rooms filled with -artificial flowers to no purpose. I returned to Rue Sainte-Apolline.<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a></p> - -<p>The proprietor was out; so much the better. I complained and stormed -because my flowers had not been sent. A girl rose and declared that she -had left them at my rooms. It was not Caroline; therefore, it was not -she who had come. I became calmer and shifted the blame onto my -neighbor’s shoulders. The forewoman scolded the girl. I bought some more -wreaths, pretending that I had forgotten to buy them on my first visit; -and I asked to have them sent with me. This time Caroline was selected -to be the messenger. At last I was to have an opportunity to speak to -her freely, to be alone with her!</p> - -<p>“One moment!” I said to myself; “I haven’t reached that point yet; I -must not be too sure beforehand; one is so often disappointed!”</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Caroline walked with her eyes bent on the ground, and I -remained at a respectful distance; but when we were a few steps from the -shop, I put her into a cab, which took us to my domicile. She hesitated -at first about entering the cab, but I urged her; she consented at last, -and then she had no choice but to listen to all that love impelled me to -say, if I may give the name of <i>love</i> to the caprice that had occupied -my thoughts since the preceding night.</p> - -<p>But obstacles give added value to the most trifling fancy, and sometimes -transform a simple caprice into a deep-rooted sentiment. The difficulty -which I had encountered in obtaining an interview with Caroline caused -me to find a greater charm in her company; my words had more fire, more -eloquence; and so little is required to convince a girl whose heart is -already half vanquished.</p> - -<p>Everything, therefore, led me to hope for the most perfect success. In -time the cab stopped, we alighted, and Mademoiselle Caroline handed me -my box, refusing to go<a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a> up to my rooms. In vain did I promise, aye, -swear to be good; I was powerless to overcome the flowermaker’s -obstinacy; all that I could obtain was an appointment on the boulevard -for the following evening.</p> - -<p>She left me, and I entered the house alone. I could not help thinking of -the difference between Mademoiselle Caroline’s conduct and Nicette’s. -The little flower girl, who had known me but a few minutes, herself -proposed to come to my apartment at midnight; while the grisette, having -an excuse for going there, was afraid to venture in broad daylight. What -was I to conclude? That one realized the danger more fully than the -other? No. Nicette realized it; but she simply did not think of it; she -trusted me. That Caroline was more virtuous than Nicette was impossible; -indeed, I feared the contrary, and that there might be the same -difference in their respective morals as in the flowers they dealt in.</p> - -<p>I must, in any event, wait until the time appointed for our meeting. I -determined to go that evening to Madame Vauvert’s; not to hear Raymond -sing the <i>Joconde</i> aria, but because there was generally a collection of -original creatures there that amused me, to say nothing of the master -and mistress of the house, who are well worth a chapter to themselves.<a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII<br /><br /> -<small>AN AMATEUR CONCERT</small></h2> - -<p>In Paris there are parties for all tastes, all social ranks, all -professions, all shades of opinion; in a word, for all classes.</p> - -<p>A young man with tact and breeding may go everywhere; nothing is so easy -as to obtain admission to the enormous parties, the gorgeous fêtes and -balls, which are so popular that people go thither in crowds and do not -see one another. The master and mistress of the house do not know the -names of half the men who crowd their salons. In the best society it is -customary for an invited guest to introduce whomsoever he may choose, -without asking permission. The newcomer salutes the host and his wife; -they exchange the conventional phrases, smiling at each other most -amicably; that is all that is necessary; and one may then proceed to -play cards, dance, and regale one’s self, without paying any further -attention to the master of the house.</p> - -<p>It is not so easy to obtain admission to what are called <i>bourgeois</i> -parties. There the host, being a little more particular than the banker -or marquis of the Chaussée d’Antin, likes to know the people who come to -his house. When one young man introduces another to him, he inquires his -name, his profession, and his character; indeed, there are some who -carry their absurd prejudices so far as to turn a cold shoulder to young -men whose too free and easy manners do not please them. But this -extreme<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a> severity of morals is found only in the Marais or in the heart -of Faubourg Saint-Germain.</p> - -<p>Between the first society and the bourgeoisie, between etiquette and -license, there are the delightful circles, distinguished by amiable -freedom of manner, artless gayety, and a pleasant intimacy; these are -generally to be found among artists. The arts go hand in hand; genuine -talents are not jealous of one another; they esteem, seek out, and -appreciate one another; that is why we find among them wit without -malice, jesting without bitterness, rivalry without envy, merit without -arrogance, and wealth without display.</p> - -<p>Next come the strange, abnormal parties, which are made up from all the -others. The people who give them do not know how to receive company; but -they insist upon having company all the time, because it is good form to -give soirées, and in these days no one is willing to lag behind his -neighbor. For my part, I am in the habit of going only where I am -invited by the host himself; I do not like to be introduced by another -guest, unless it be at one of those crushes to which one goes as one -would go to the theatre; and one may stay away from a second one without -being taxed with discourtesy, because there is no danger of having been -noticed at the first.</p> - -<p>The function of Monsieur and Madame Vauvert may be placed in the last -category. The master of the house fancied that he was a musician, but he -had never in his life been able to beat a measure in three time, or to -observe a minim rest or a crotchet rest, although he used his feet, his -head, and his hands. He thrummed a little on the guitar; and when he had -succeeded in accompanying some little ballad, without falling in with a -minim rest or<a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a> a crotchet one on the way, he was the happiest of men. -Add to this an enduring passion for the fair sex, to which he paid -assiduous court, despite his wife, a nose always smeared with snuff, -soiled clothes and frills, strong breath and shifty eyes, a figure of -medium height and a body that was always trembling, and you will have an -idea of Monsieur Vauvert, who was a very good fellow in spite of his -trifling faults, and whose greatest crime was not to be virtuous and -orderly at forty-five. Gayety is of all ages, but libertinage is a -different matter.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“If there’s a time for folly,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">So there’s a time for sense.”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>And I trust that at forty I shall be as virtuous as I now am the -opposite. But let us come to Madame Vauvert.</p> - -<p>She must once have been good-looking; the trouble was that she insisted -upon continuing to be so. Her complexion was still fresh and ruddy, even -when she was ill; which tempted unkind tongues to say that she made it -herself. She was not familiar with the manners of good society, but by -way of compensation she had a vast deal of curiosity and an -extraordinary talent for setting people by the ears, while seeming never -to speak ill of anyone; she also had a very pronounced penchant for -good-looking youths and for chocolate.</p> - -<p>Still, Madame Vauvert’s parties were very entertaining, because there -was not the slightest restraint, everyone did what he chose, and one was -certain of meeting a lot of original people and of seeing some new faces -at every party. Most of those who appeared there simply passed on and -off, as in a magic lantern; those whose only aim was to be amused went -again and again. I was one of the latter; so Vauvert had come to call me -his dear<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a> friend, while his charming spouse always greeted me with a -most gracious little smile.</p> - -<p>As Monsieur Vauvert was only a government clerk, he did not live on the -first floor; but on his reception evenings he caused candle ends to be -placed along the staircase, so that the artists and amateurs might not -break their noses before reaching the third floor above the entresol. He -had no servant, but he had a nephew some fourteen or fifteen years old, -who was junior clerk to a notary; a sly, mischievous youngster, whom his -dear uncle tried to make useful on his festal days, which displeased the -young man, who on those occasions always returned home later than usual -from the notary’s, in order not to be at the service of his uncle and -aunt. It was nearly ten o’clock when I arrived at Monsieur Vauvert’s; -the company rarely assembled before that hour, for the petty bourgeois -try to mimic the nobility, and think it good form to arrive very late at -a party. Musicians, whether amateurs or professionals, love to keep -people waiting; and I believe that, in due time, evening parties will -not begin until the next morning.</p> - -<p>I rang. The door was opened by Madame Vauvert; whence I concluded that -the young nephew had not yet returned.</p> - -<p>“Ah! here you are, my little Dorsan; it’s very good of you to come; we -shall have a lot of people to-night.”</p> - -<p>“You <i>will</i> have? Do you mean to say that your guests haven’t arrived -yet?”</p> - -<p>“Some of them are late; but it’s early yet.”</p> - -<p>“Not very.”</p> - -<p>“We have a tall young lady from the Conservatoire, who has a magnificent -voice.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce!<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>”</p> - -<p>“And a lady who plays the ‘cello.”</p> - -<p>“Great heaven! why, here it’s as it is at Nicolet’s: always worse and -worse!”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! what a funny fellow!”</p> - -<p>“What music have you had already?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing yet.”</p> - -<p>“What! nothing? and it’s ten o’clock! For whom are you waiting to begin -your concert?”</p> - -<p>“Little Martin hasn’t come yet, to play the piano accompaniments.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t his sister here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but she won’t play to-night; she’s sick; she’s having one of her -nervous attacks.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes! that’s quite natural. But where’s your husband?”</p> - -<p>“He’s gone out to get a ‘cello part and to borrow a second violin, so -that we can have a quartette.”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that it would have been well to set about it a little -sooner.”</p> - -<p>“Why, the poor man’s been running his legs off ever since dinner. He had -to fetch Madame Rosemonde and her daughter, then go to the musical -instrument maker’s for a double bass, then send for Mademoiselle -Luquet’s harp, then go to make sure that Monsieur Crachini could come; -in fact, there’s no end to what he’s had to do!”</p> - -<p>“I can see that he has had his hands full.”</p> - -<p>“And that little rascal of a Friquet doesn’t come home! I hope his uncle -will give him a good trouncing to-night. But come in, my dear fellow.”</p> - -<p>Our conversation was held in a narrow passage leading on one side to the -dining room, which did duty as bedroom and dressing room, and on the -other to the salon. I entered this last-named apartment, where the -regular<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a> habitués and the newcomers were assembled. Everyone was -wondering what the host and hostess could be doing, that no one had seen -them; everyone was calling for them, and asking why the music could not -begin; but not one of the singers was willing to sing first, and the -instrumentalists seemed no better disposed.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that things aren’t likely to go very well to-night,” -said a short, pockmarked man, who waddled up to me, smiling maliciously, -whose nose was hidden by his bulging cheeks, and whose eyes one sought -in vain behind his spectacles. “Almost ten o’clock, and nothing doing; -you must agree that it’s disrespectful to the company! Poor Vauvert! -passing his evening scouring the neighborhood for instruments and -scores! It’s amusing enough! There are not two houses like this in -Paris.”</p> - -<p>“That is just why it’s so priceless. But aren’t you going to sing -to-night?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I’ve brought my song from <i>Jean de Paris</i>; it’s called the -<i>Princesse de Navarre</i>.”</p> - -<p>“I seem to remember that you sang that to us at the last reception.”</p> - -<p>“So I did; but I haven’t had time to learn anything else; and then, you -know, it’s such a fine thing!—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“‘’Tis the Princesse de Navarre whom I annou—ou—ounce!’<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>Gad! how pretty it is!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, when Martin sings it, it’s delightful. Shall we have much singing -to-night?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! we shall have some sport. Raymond is to sing the aria from -<i>Joconde</i>; that tall girl yonder is to sing the inevitable song from -<i>Montano et Stéphanie</i>; the pupil from the Conservatoire has brought a -song, too; and<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> Monsieur Crachini will obligingly deafen us with a -romanza or two. Then Chamonin and his friend are to make an attempt at a -duo from the Bouffes. That’s enough, I hope! God grant that Gripaille -doesn’t take his guitar to accompany us! if he does, we are lost.”</p> - -<p>As the chubby-faced little man finished speaking, Gripaille accosted -him, and was greeted with:</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear Gripaille, aren’t we to have the pleasure of hearing you? -Come, bring out your guitar; these ladies are dying for some of your -chords.”</p> - -<p>Gripaille, who considered himself the first guitarist in Paris, replied, -casting a seductive leer upon the ladies who surrounded us:</p> - -<p>“What the devil do you expect me to sing you? I don’t know anything! -I’ve got a cold, too; and then, Vauvert’s guitar is such a wretched -instrument! a regular chestnut stove! it’s impossible to play on it.”</p> - -<p>“With such talent as yours, one can play on anything,” observed a little -old woman, throwing herself back in her chair and clasping her hands -ecstatically, while tears of pleasure started from her eyes. “Mon Dieu! -what blissful moments I owe to you! Music produces such an effect on -me—such an effect! you can’t form any idea of it; my nerves are so -sensitive, I abandon myself so utterly to the melody! Take your guitar, -enchanter! take it and make me dream! You remind me of a handsome -traveller who played the guitar under my windows when I was young!”</p> - -<p>The chubby-faced gentleman and I turned away, to avoid laughing in the -face of the old woman, from whom Gripaille had great difficulty in -extricating himself. Old age is certainly most worthy of respect; but it -is hard to keep a serious face before such old idiots, who fall into a -trance during a ballad or an <i>adagio</i>.<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a></p> - -<p>I saw the old man who usually played the ‘cello part look at his watch, -and heard him mutter between his teeth:</p> - -<p>“This is very disagreeable! I must be at home at eleven o’clock, and we -are wasting all this time doing nothing; and I’ve been here since seven! -They were laughing at me when they told me that they were going to begin -early, and that there would be a full quartette here; but they won’t -catch me again.”</p> - -<p>At last Monsieur Vauvert appeared, panting, almost breathless, drenched -with perspiration, and bending beneath the burden of a tenor violin and -several portfolios of music.</p> - -<p>“Here I am! here I am!” he exclaimed, bustling into the room with an air -of great bewilderment; “I’ve had hard work collecting all the parts, but -I’ve succeeded at last.”</p> - -<p>“You must have been diverting yourself between whiles,” said Madame -Vauvert, pursing her lips.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! parbleu! that’s very likely; diverting myself, indeed! I’m -bathed in perspiration!—You can begin the quartette, messieurs.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s begin, let’s begin!” said Monsieur Pattier, the ‘cello player; -“we have very little time.—But have you brought my score?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes! there it is on the stand.”</p> - -<p>“Come, messieurs, let’s tune up.”</p> - -<p>The amateurs who formed the quartette tried to bring their instruments -in tune with one another. Meanwhile, the guests took their places to -listen; sat down when they could find chairs. The ladies were already -yawning; the bare announcement of a quartette gave them the vapors; to -distract their thoughts, they chatted with the men who stood behind -their chairs. They whispered and laughed<a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a> and made fun of everybody, -especially of the performers; the moment when music is being performed -is always selected by the listeners to make the most noise.</p> - -<p>At last the intrepid amateurs were in tune and took their places at -their desks. The old ‘cello player had put his little shade of green -paper round his candle, so that the light should not hurt his eyes; the -tenor violinist had put on his spectacles; the second violin put an -ounce of rosin on his bow; and the first violin adjusted his cravat so -that his instrument should not rumple his collar.</p> - -<p>All these preliminaries being completed,—during which Vauvert tried to -bring the assemblage to order by many a prolonged <i>hush</i>!—the first -violin raised his bow and stamped on the floor, glancing from one to -another of his colleagues.</p> - -<p>“Are we ready?” he said at last, with a determined air.</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’ve been ready two hours!” retorted Monsieur Pattier, with an -angry shrug.</p> - -<p>“One moment, messieurs,” said the second violin; “my first string is -loose; it’s a new string; I must tighten it.”</p> - -<p>The tenor seized the opportunity to play over a passage that seemed -rather difficult, and the ‘cellist consoled himself with a pinch of -snuff.</p> - -<p>“Now I’m ready,” said the second violin.</p> - -<p>“That’s very fortunate.—Attention, messieurs, if you please; we will -play the <i>allegro</i> rather slowly, and the <i>adagio</i> somewhat quickly; -that produces a better effect.”</p> - -<p>“As you please; it’s your place to beat time.”</p> - -<p>The signal was given; the first violin started, and the others straggled -after, as usual. Although I paid little attention to the quartette, it -seemed to me to be even worse than ordinarily.<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a></p> - -<p>“The villains have sworn to flay us alive!” said one of my neighbors.</p> - -<p>“That isn’t right! that isn’t right!” cried the first violin, stopping -short.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why it didn’t go well enough,” observed the tenor.</p> - -<p>“No, no! there was something that was all wrong.”</p> - -<p>“Where was it?”</p> - -<p>“Where? I can’t say exactly.”</p> - -<p>“Well, <i>I</i> didn’t miss a note,” said the second violin.</p> - -<p>“Nor I.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I.”</p> - -<p>“Come, messieurs, let us begin again.”</p> - -<p>“All right, but see that you beat time properly.”</p> - -<p>“I should say that I beat time loud enough.”</p> - -<p>“To be sure you do,” said Madame Vauvert; “and the person who lives -underneath said she would complain to the landlord.”</p> - -<p>They began to play again; but it went no better, although the first -violin writhed and gesticulated like one possessed; the company began to -laugh, and the performers stopped.</p> - -<p>“It certainly doesn’t go right,” said Monsieur Longuet, the first violin -and conductor. “There must be mistakes somewhere; let me see the ‘cello -score. What does this mean? you’re playing in <i>B</i> flat and we in <i>D</i>! -Parbleu! I’m not surprised.”</p> - -<p>“I’m playing just what you told me to,” rejoined old Pattier, scarlet -with anger; “the first quartette in the first portfolio.”</p> - -<p>“True; how the devil does it happen? Let’s look at the title. What do I -see? Mozart’s quartette! and we are playing one of Pleyel’s! Ha! ha! -that’s a good one!<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>”</p> - -<p>Everybody laughed at the episode; Monsieur Pattier alone was furious -over the mistake, for which Vauvert was responsible, and which resulted -in preventing the performance of the quartette. He rushed up to the -master of the house, who had just seated himself in a corner of the -salon beside a young brunette on whom he was bestowing meaning glances.</p> - -<p>“How’s this, Monsieur Vauvert? You tell me that you have brought the -score that was missing, and you give me the bass of a Mozart quartette -when we are to play one of Pleyel’s!”</p> - -<p>“I thought I heard you mention Mozart.”</p> - -<p>“You thought! a man doesn’t make such mistakes as that!”</p> - -<p>“Well! I’ll go and change it.”</p> - -<p>“No, no, it’s no use; almost eleven o’clock; a pretty time to go out -after music! I shan’t forget this trick.”</p> - -<p>Père Pattier went away, muttering savagely; nobody paid any attention to -him. Madame Vauvert scolded her husband for his blunder, and the company -congratulated themselves on their escape from the quartette; while the -tenor, who was determined not to be squelched, persisted in trying the -brilliant passages of his part. Neighbor Raymond had just arrived, with -his favorite piece under his arm. I noticed several new faces, and I was -looking about for Madame Bertin and her daughters, who seldom came to -Monsieur Vauvert’s, whose decidedly mixed society was ill suited to -well-bred young ladies, when I heard the confused murmur that announces -the arrival of a new personage.</p> - -<p>I looked toward the door of the salon. A very stylishly dressed lady was -being escorted into the room by Vauvert, on whose arm she leaned, and -whose soiled linen,<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a> snuffy nose, and awkward manner were in striking -contrast to the grace, the refinement, and the elegant manners of the -lady, for whom he tried to find a seat in his salon, where vacant chairs -were as scarce as at Tivoli. I spied one by the fireplace, upon which a -huge cat lay asleep; I threw the cat to the floor, and presented the -chair to the newcomer, who thanked me as she accepted it. Thereupon I -examined her more closely, and recognized the lady whom I had seen at -the theatre two nights before, and whose carriage I had made a vain -attempt to follow. I was fully convinced that it was she when I saw in -the doorway the man who accompanied her on that occasion.</p> - -<p>Decidedly that Saturday evening was destined to mark an epoch in my -life; for chance had thrown in my way all the persons who had then -attracted my attention. I was Nicette’s friend, I hoped to be Caroline’s -lover, and as for this other lady, whose name I did not know as yet, I -was ready to bet that we should become better acquainted.</p> - -<p>Neighbor Raymond, who lost no time when he hoped to win applause, had -already approached the piano and was looking about for someone to -accompany him. But Monsieur Gripaille, seeing that no one asked him to -sing, or paid any attention to him, ran and seized the guitar, seated -himself in the centre of the salon, and prepared to begin. Singing is -always the most popular part of a concert, especially a concert of -amateurs, where those who play upon any instrument are rarely good -enough players or good enough musicians to give pleasure to their -audience. A quartette entertains none but those who take part in it; a -sonata on the piano makes people yawn; airs with variations for the harp -are always twice too long, and pieces for the guitar always fall flat -after other<a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a> instruments. Only for singing, therefore, does the audience -at such affairs care to cease its conversation; a pleasant voice never -wearies the attention or the ears.</p> - -<p>But Monsieur Gripaille had not a pleasant voice—far from it; it was a -continual medley of falsetto, shrill notes, and transitions of an -octave, the whole accompanied by the thrumming of his thumb on the bass -chord of the guitar, while he shook his head from side to side to add to -his personal charms. However, the airs he sang were sometimes tuneful, -the words amusing, and his performance diverted the company for a -moment. But as he always sang the same things, we knew them by heart; -and when he once had the guitar in his hands, it was impossible to make -him put it down; after the ballad came a rondeau, after the rondeau a -comic song, after the comic song another ballad, and so on. I was not -bored, because I was talking with the new arrival, who seemed vastly -astonished at all that she saw, and very glad to find me there; for she -recognized me, and I saw that my presence was not disagreeable to her.</p> - -<p>But soon I heard neighbor Raymond and the man with spectacles -objurgating Gripaille because he did not stop singing.</p> - -<p>“It’s horrible! it’s murderous! it’s enough to put you to sleep!” said -Raymond; “he’ll never stop!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! when he once has his guitar, we are lost! there’s nothing to do but -let him sing.”</p> - -<p>“And he doesn’t want anyone to make a sound, either; not even to speak. -See! he’s glancing angrily in this direction now, because we’re -talking.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care if he is; it’s altogether too much; tunes that he’s sung -to us twenty times!”</p> - -<p>“He says that he wrote them.<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>”</p> - -<p>“He lies; I’ve seen them printed under another name.”</p> - -<p>“Great God! I believe he’s beginning another one. That fellow ought to -be forbidden to enter a salon.”</p> - -<p>“Faith, yes! let’s call Vauvert, and tell him to make him shut up.”</p> - -<p>“He wouldn’t dare.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you; we must have some young lady escorted to the piano; -perhaps that will compel Gripaille to give up his place.”</p> - -<p>The two men ran after Vauvert, who was in the utmost perplexity, for he -did not know how to request his friend Gripaille to cease to entertain -the company. At last, a tall, stout young woman consented to sing; young -Martin arrived to play the accompaniments, and they were escorted to the -piano. Gripaille pretended not to see what was going on, and played the -prelude to his sixth comic song; but the noise in the dressing room, -where a party of young men had assembled who could not find room in the -salon, forced the guitarist to abandon the contest; he rose very -ill-humoredly, despite the faint forced applause, and for lack of -something better to do sat down in front of the little old woman, who -had been partly in a trance and partly in heaven throughout his singing.</p> - -<p>“Come,” she said to Gripaille, as he approached, “come, let me embrace -you! You have enchanted me—exalted me to the skies—that is the word! -Come, I entreat you!”</p> - -<p>The wretched guitarist was compelled to submit; he embraced the old lady -with a good grace; admirers are rare, and one has to pay dear for them.</p> - -<p>My neighbor spied me and came to me with outstretched hand; but he -halted in front of my fair unknown, to whom he made a sweeping bow. The -devil<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a> of a fellow seemed to know everybody. I listened to their -conversation.</p> - -<p>“Whom do I see? Madame de Marsan! by what chance? Really, this is a -happiness I did not expect! To what are we indebted for this pleasant -surprise?”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur de Marsan meets Monsieur Vauvert sometimes at the department, -and Monsieur Vauvert has been urging him for a long time to come to his -concerts; so to-day we decided to come;—but I confess,” she said, -turning to me, “that I did not expect all that I see.”</p> - -<p>“We will try, madame, to give you so much pleasure that you will not -regret your evening.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon my neighbor ran to the piano, doubtless to preëmpt the place -next to the tall young lady. But the little chubby-faced man had -anticipated him, and I foresaw that we could not escape the <i>Princesse -de Navarre</i>.</p> - -<p>While the young woman was singing her air from <i>Montano et Stéphanie</i>, -being forced to give up my chair to a damsel who was looking about in -vain for a seat, I went for a breath of air to the dressing room, where -a number of young men had taken refuge, driven from the salon by the -shrill cries of the singer. At that moment the doorbell rang; Vauvert -opened the door, and little Friquet appeared. I expected a scene between -the uncle and the nephew, and I waited to hear.</p> - -<p>“Where have you been, you rascal?” demanded Vauvert, trying to assume an -imposing air.</p> - -<p>“Why, uncle, I have been—I have been at the office.”</p> - -<p>“At your office, until eleven o’clock at night!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, uncle.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t expect to make us believe that, I hope?”</p> - -<p>“Why not, uncle?<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Because I know that you leave it every night at nine o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“The head clerk gave me some errands to do, uncle; that is what made me -so late.”</p> - -<p>“Errands! I know how you do errands! I’ve been hearing about you, young -scoundrel that you are!”</p> - -<p>“In the first place, uncle, I am not a scoundrel.”</p> - -<p>“Your head clerk told me that the day before yesterday morning, while -they were waiting for a very urgent paper that they’d sent you to have -signed, he found you sitting coolly under Pont des Arts, fishing.”</p> - -<p>“Me, uncle, me! My word, what a lie!”</p> - -<p>“He has the face to deny it, when I have proofs of the fact!”</p> - -<p>“Proofs? what proofs?”</p> - -<p>“Look, Monsieur Friquet, here’s a package of hooks that I found in your -coat pocket. Well! what do you say to that?”</p> - -<p>“That doesn’t prove anything, uncle; I didn’t buy those hooks for -myself.”</p> - -<p>“For whom did you buy them, then?”</p> - -<p>“For my brother, who means to go fishing in the Canal de l’Ourcq on -Sunday.”</p> - -<p>“You’re the most shameless liar I know. I’ll bet that you bought a -theatre check to-night, and that you’ve been to see the end of some -play.”</p> - -<p>“You know perfectly well that I haven’t got any money, uncle.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you always have money to go to the theatre and to stuff yourself. -Come, monsieur, fill the glasses and pass them round to the ladies.”</p> - -<p>“That’s it!” muttered the little nephew, turning angrily on his heel; -“as soon as I get home, I have to be <a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>uncle’s servant, they’d better get -a negro. And then, the first thing in the morning, aunt sends me to get -her milk and her fuel, and lights for her cat.”</p> - -<p>“You seem to be arguing the matter!” said Madame Vauvert, pinching -Friquet’s arm; “there! that’s to teach you to grumble.”</p> - -<p>“Ow! how mean to pinch me like that, aunt! I shall be black and blue for -a week.”</p> - -<p>“So much the better!”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! how ugly she is!” muttered Friquet; and I saw him, for -consolation, take a slice of cake out of his pocket and swallow it in -three mouthfuls.</p> - -<p>But the shrill sounds had ceased; the tall young lady was no longer -singing. The little chubby-faced man took her place; he was determined -to sing his air from <i>Jean de Paris</i>, and we had to resign ourselves. -While he struggled to hold out his notes, coughing at every ritornelle -to make us believe that he had a cold, I saw the other singers look at -each other, make signs, yawn, and compress their lips. In truth, -amateurs are more unkind than professionals, and they who are in great -need of indulgence for themselves are always ready to tear others to -tatters. They think to conceal their own mediocrity by calling attention -to their neighbor’s lack of talent; self-esteem, which blinds us to our -own defects, impels us to seek out with avidity the faults of others, as -if we were the gainers thereby! What folly! Because Monsieur So-and-So -sings false, does that give you a fine voice? because he plays the -violin badly, are you the better performer on the piano? because another -is ugly, awkward, and ridiculous, are you any handsomer, more graceful, -and more agreeable? Of course not; but it is always pleasant to see -people at whom one can poke<a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a> fun, and whom we believe to be less -abundantly endowed by Nature than we. Remember that Roquelaure joyously -threw himself on the neck of a man who seemed to him even uglier than -himself. But, monsieur, what a difference! Roquelaure sacrificed his -self-esteem; but you, had you been in his place, would have made sport -of the man he embraced, and, turning to look in a mirror, would have -deemed yourself handsome, I vow.</p> - -<p>The <i>Princesse de Navarre</i> being duly executed, the little man made the -circuit of the salon, trying to pick up a word of praise, even from -those whom he had so recently declared to be ignorant of music; for -praise is always pleasant. Everybody told him that he had sung very -well; that was inevitable; we were well bred, which means that we had -ceased to be frank. I alone ventured to observe that he seemed to have a -cold; he turned as red as a turkey cock, and his nose vanished -completely.</p> - -<p>“That is so,” he said at last; “I have a very bad cold; it embarrassed -me a great deal.”</p> - -<p>“Why did you sing, then?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! people urged me so hard!”</p> - -<p>And I had seen him dispute with Raymond for the opportunity! What -strange creatures men are! But, hush! my neighbor was going to sing; -that deserved attention. But, no; two other men anticipated him; they -sang an Italian duet, I believe; but it was difficult to understand the -veritable hotchpotch they made at the piano: one shook his head to mark -time, as a bear dances behind the bars of his cage; the other, who was -evidently very short-sighted, kept his nose glued to the music. The -young man who acted as accompanist tried in vain to make them sing -together: it was impossible.<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a></p> - -<p>“You’re behind,” said one.</p> - -<p>“That’s because I skipped a line.”</p> - -<p>“Well, go on!”</p> - -<p>“You go too fast; you hurry me. I never saw the music before, and to -sing Italian at sight is devilish hard.”</p> - -<p>I was sure that he had been studying his part for a fortnight. Despite -their efforts, they were obliged to leave the duet half sung.</p> - -<p>“We will sing it the next time,” said Monsieur Chamonin; “we shall be -surer of ourselves then, for the piece needs to be carefully studied. -Rossini is very chromatic.”</p> - -<p>“That’s so,” said Vauvert, stuffing his nose with snuff, a part of which -remained on his shirt front; “it’s a pity you didn’t finish it, for I -thought it was very pretty.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll go and hear it once more at the Bouffons.”</p> - -<p>“They had better stay there,” said Gripaille, in an undertone, delighted -by their misadventure.</p> - -<p>“For my part, I don’t care for Italian,” said Madame Vauvert. “I never -can hear anything but <i>tchi and tcha</i>; and it doesn’t amuse me in the -least.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! what blasphemy, madame! not like Rossini!”</p> - -<p>“Who’s Rossini, uncle?” inquired the youthful clerk, who had stolen into -the salon. “Seems to me I’ve seen that name, in <i>Don Quixote</i>.”</p> - -<p>“The idiot, to mistake <i>Rosinante for Rossini</i>! Go and wash the glasses, -booby, and don’t mix in the conversation again.”</p> - -<p>At last my neighbor was at the piano, and had opened his mouth to an -enormous width to inform us that he had “long wandered o’er the world.” -But at that moment we heard the notes of a ‘cello, and Vauvert appeared -with a music stand, which he placed in the centre of the salon.<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a></p> - -<p>“What on earth are you doing there?” shouted Raymond; “don’t you see -that I am singing?”</p> - -<p>“Madame Witcheritche is going to play her solo on the ‘cello.”</p> - -<p>“In a few minutes; I am singing now, I tell you. Madame Witcheritche can -play afterward.”</p> - -<p>“No, she wants to play now, because it’s getting late.”</p> - -<p>And paying no heed to the mutterings of Raymond, who, in his wrath, -overturned the candlestick on the piano, Vauvert arranged the music -stand, then went to usher in the German virtuoso, whom I had not -previously noticed. She was a very handsome woman, very fair and -somewhat insipid, like most German women, but well built and graceful; -she held the ‘cello between her legs with astonishing ease, and seemed -not at all abashed. She played easily and with excellent taste; and I -saw by the long faces of the members of the quartette that they had not -expected to encounter in one of the other sex a musical talent in -presence of which they could no longer hope to shine.</p> - -<p>I heard a voice at my ear incessantly repeating:</p> - -<p>“Gut, gut, sehr gut; tudge lidely, holt te pow firm; lidely on te -shtrings!”</p> - -<p>I turned and saw a hideous face looking first at the performer, then at -the company, making grimaces for tokens of approval, and rolling about a -pair of eyes that reminded me of Brunet’s in the <i>Désespoir de -Jocrisse</i>. The owner of that extraordinary countenance was a tall man in -a threadbare green coat, of vulgar aspect, and with pretentious airs -which made him even more ridiculous.</p> - -<p>“Who is that individual?” I asked one of my neighbors.<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a></p> - -<p>“That’s the husband of the lady playing the ‘cello.”</p> - -<p>“What! such a disgusting face approach that charming head! What an -outrage! It reminds me of a Satyr beside a Hebe.”</p> - -<p>“Still, the lady seems to be fond of her husband.”</p> - -<p>“It’s easy to see that she’s a foreigner. What does this husband of hers -do?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing; he’s a baron.”</p> - -<p>“A baron! I should never have suspected it; he looks more like a -cobbler. But in Germany everybody’s a baron, just as in Russia all the -soldiers have decorations; it doesn’t mean anything.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche, who, as he rolled his eyes about, had -doubtless observed that I was looking at him, came to me as soon as his -wife had finished, and began to converse with a smiling face. I have -observed that the Germans smile a great deal when they are talking. I -regretted that it was not courteous to laugh in a person’s face, for -Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche was very amusing to look at, -especially when he wished to make himself agreeable. I wondered what he -wanted of me.</p> - -<p>“I’ll pet tat monsir is ein egsberd on te ‘cello. Monsir is ein much gut -blayer himself, hein?”</p> - -<p>“I, monsieur? you are mistaken; I do not play at all.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you vish not to admit it; I can tivine all at once te innermost -toughts of bersons py tare faces.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! you are very fortunate, Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche!”</p> - -<p>“I haf shtudy te human heard; I am most egsberd in physsionomique.”</p> - -<p>“What do you say, monsieur le baron?<a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I say I am ein egsberd in physsionomique.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand at all.”</p> - -<p>“In physsionomique.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you mean physiognomy.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur le baron turned on his heel, without a smile. The best way to -rid one’s self of a foreigner is to pretend not to understand him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile my little dialogue with Monsieur de Witcheritche had caused me -to miss Monsieur Crachini’s romanza. I was sorry, for he always combined -with his singing an expressive pantomime which made it doubly -interesting. While various other amateurs entertained the company, I -looked about for Raymond; for being unable to find a seat beside Madame -de Marsan, I was anxious to obtain some information concerning her, and -my neighbor was the very man to give me that.</p> - -<p>He was not in the salon. I went into the smaller room, where my entrance -brought to an abrupt close a whispered conversation between Vauvert and -a fair-haired lady who had been in the dining room an hour, looking for -her shawl amid a multitude of bonnets, mantles, and shawls which were -tossed pell-mell on the bed of the host and hostess.</p> - -<p>“Are you leaving us already?” said Vauvert, in a melting voice, glancing -behind him to see if his wife was coming.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s very late; I must go home.”</p> - -<p>“My nephew will escort you.—Friquet! Friquet!”</p> - -<p>Friquet appeared, and swore between his teeth at having to escort the -blonde lady; he spent an interminable time looking for his hat and -exclaiming in the lady’s ears that it was a nuisance to go out so late -and go home with everybody. His uncle pulled his ears, and I joined<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a> -Raymond, who was exhaling his vexation at the dressing room window.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you going to sing, neighbor?”</p> - -<p>“Is it possible to do anything here, I should like to know? Did you ever -see such confusion? such disorder? I don’t know where I am! I’ve told -Vauvert a hundred times to draw up a programme and paste it on a mirror; -then everything would go off in an orderly way. But, no; he won’t listen -to anything! he amuses himself pinching and squeezing such little girls -as he can find in the corners, instead of attending to his concert.”</p> - -<p>“It is certainly true that it might be managed better.”</p> - -<p>“The idea of giving us a concerto for the ‘cello that there’s no end to; -just to grate on our ears! And then, I don’t care what you may say, a -woman who plays the ‘cello is always absurd! It reminds me of a man -darning stockings; and madame la baronne would do much better to stay at -home and darn hers than execute <i>staccatos</i> and <i>arpeggios</i>.”</p> - -<p>“What do you say? a baroness darn stockings?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! nonsense! a pretty baron he makes! I saw him the other day on -Boulevard du Temple, buying apples at a sou a bag; and he was haggling -too! He bought sausage by the yard for his dinner; and someone who’s -been at his house told me that they gave him gooseberries for -refreshment! But this Vauvert’s a star! he tries to make us believe that -he entertains princes, ambassadors perhaps! whereas his house is a -veritable Noah’s Ark.”</p> - -<p>“By the way, you seem to know Madame de Marsan?”</p> - -<p>“Madame de Marsan? yes, to be sure; I go to her parties. She’s a fine -woman, rather a flirt, as you must have seen; but she has wit and good -breeding and style; she’s a woman who calls herself twenty-eight, and is -really<a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a> thirty-two. She is known to have had several passions; but as -she doesn’t advertise them and is always regardful of decorum, there’s -nothing to say: morals before everything. The husband is a good sort of -fellow, very sharp, they say, when his own interests are concerned. He’s -in business; but he’s not one of those poor devils who run about for a -fortnight to discount a note which will be worth a commission of seven -or eight francs to them; or one of those who offer you with an air of -mystery houses that are advertised in the <i>Petits-Affiches</i>. This fellow -knows what he’s about, and makes a lot of money. He has a fine country -house, beyond Saint-Denis, in which madame has had a pretty little -theatre arranged; in fact, I am to act there very soon. She’s a valuable -acquaintance; for there’s lots of fun at her house. I myself have been -there twice, and I know that they think a great deal of me. If you -choose, my dear fellow, I’ll take you there; if introduced by me, you -will be warmly welcomed.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks; but, as you know, I don’t like to be presented in that way.”</p> - -<p>Raymond left me, to return to the piano; he had not lost all hope of -getting himself heard. I knew all that I wanted to know concerning -Madame de Marsan. I returned to the salon. I had reason to believe that -the lady was questioning my neighbor about me, and I knew that I need -not be afraid of losing her good opinion through Raymond’s description -of me, for he was one of those men who like to pretend that they have -none but the most desirable acquaintances. I was in comfortable -circumstances, and he had probably represented me as very wealthy; I was -born of respectable parents, and he had probably placed me in one of -the<a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a> oldest families in France; and so on. To be sure, Madame de Marsan -might have been told that I was fickle, inconstant, treacherous; but -those failings never do a man any harm with the ladies.</p> - -<p>A selection had just been performed on the harp; the performer had made -but one mistake, had had to tune her instrument but twice, and had -broken but four strings; we had no cause of complaint. Raymond had left -Madame de Marsan, to find an accompanist, and threatened, if he failed -in his quest, to accompany himself; by dint of hunting, urging, and -entreating, he succeeded in bringing young Martin to the piano; he began -to cough and expectorate, changed the position of the candles, ordered -the windows to be closed, and struck an attitude supposed to represent -Joconde. But a murmur arose on all sides; the young women ran to -Monsieur Vauvert, the young men surrounded his wife; they had been -promised a contradance; it was almost twelve o’clock, and if it was -postponed any longer there would be no dancing. The hosts acceded to the -prayers of their younger guests.</p> - -<p>“We are going to dance!” shouted Vauvert, as the court bailiff cries: -“Silence, please!”</p> - -<p>Instantly everything was in a ferment in the salon; the young men -hastened to engage partners, the chairs were moved away to make room, -and the guests who did not dance were requested to retire to the -corners.</p> - -<p>Raymond stood at the piano with his mouth open; he thought that he must -be mistaken; he could not believe his eyes; I believe that he was -actually going to begin his aria; but instead of the prelude from -<i>Joconde</i>, young Martin struck up a figure of Pantalon. My neighbor -could not digest this final blow; he seized his music in a<a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a> hand which -shook with wrath, and, thrusting it under his arm, rushed across the -salon like a madman, colliding with the dancers, and receiving kicks -from the young men who were in the act of balancing to partners; I am -convinced, however, that he did not feel them.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Raymond is going away in a rage,” observed a lady to Madame -Vauvert, with a laugh; a lady whose hair was dressed <i>à la</i> Ninon, but -had lost its curl and was floating in the air in long wisps, although -she had taken the precaution not to remove her curl papers until she was -on the staircase.</p> - -<p>“Bah! I don’t care for that,” replied Madame Vauvert; “he bores us to -death with his songs, and with the poetry he insists on reading to us; -it’s always the same thing!”</p> - -<p>At that moment, Raymond, whom I supposed to have left the house, -appeared at the door of the salon and called out angrily:</p> - -<p>“My hat, Madame Vauvert, I want my hat, where is it? It’s a lamentable -fact that one can never find one’s things in your house.”</p> - -<p>“Pardi! your hat isn’t lost.—Mon Dieu! I don’t see my cat! I put her on -a chair by the fireplace. Why did anyone move her—poor Moumoute? The -door of the landing is often open; she’s gone out, and she’ll be -stolen!—Moumoute! Moumoute!”</p> - -<p>The dancing continued, no heed being paid to Madame Vauvert’s -lamentations and Raymond’s demands; the dancers were determined to -compensate themselves, by a moment’s enjoyment, for several hours of -ennui; and those who were afraid that their turn might not come took the -precaution to move back the hands of the clock while Vauvert’s back was -turned and his wife was looking for her cat.<a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a></p> - -<p>I invited Madame de Marsan, and after much ceremony she consented to -dance with me.</p> - -<p>“What an extraordinary house!” she said to me.</p> - -<p>“I find it delightful, since I have met you here.”</p> - -<p>“But as it is probable that you will not meet me here again, and as I -desire to see you again, I trust, monsieur, that you will do me the -honor of coming to listen to a little music at my house.”</p> - -<p>I accepted, as may be imagined; and after the dance was over, I prowled -about the husband, with whom I entered into conversation. I talked of -speculation, houses, châteaux, and the stock market with him; I took -pains, without ostentation, to mention my name, to speak of my family -and my means. In any other house, I should not have done so; but in such -a mixed assemblage, I was not anxious that he should place me on a level -with people, who, although very estimable no doubt, were nothing more -than that; and in the opinion of many men that is not sufficient -distinction. On the whole, I was satisfied that Monsieur de Marsan found -me rather agreeable; it is so easy to catch people by the sensitive -spot—that is to say, when they have one.</p> - -<p>When young women begin to dance, it is much the same as when a poet -begins to recite his verses: there is no reason why they should ever -stop. But Madame Vauvert, thinking that they were making too much noise, -and afraid of angering her landlord, had already said several times:</p> - -<p>“This will be the last.”</p> - -<p>But the last never came to an end.</p> - -<p>Friquet, who had returned in high dudgeon because he had been obliged to -escort a lady home, stole behind<a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a> the dancers and looked at the clock; -then he hastened to inform his uncle that the hands had been set back, -so that they marked only twelve o’clock when it was nearly one. Vauvert -consulted his watch, saw that his nephew was right, and concluded that -it was incumbent on him to show some resolution, and that his dignity -required him to turn his guests out of doors at once.</p> - -<p>He immediately extinguished the lamps in the four corners of the salon, -leaving only a few candles lighted; and the young men were about to -extinguish them as well, and thus make the scene more amusing, when -Vauvert took possession of them and harangued the company thus:</p> - -<p>“I have already told you that it is time to go; my wife is indisposed, -and I am surprised that anyone should continue to dance against our -wishes.”</p> - -<p>This courteous speech made everybody laugh, and they hurried into the -dressing room to prepare for departure. But there the confusion and -disorder reached their climax. The ladies called for their shawls, -mantles, bonnets, and slippers; the singers demanded their music or -their instruments; they made mistakes, and many could not find what they -wanted; the young men hovered about the ladies, on the pretext of -assisting them, but really because such crushes are most propitious to -lovers and amateurs. One tied a ribbon, another put on an overshoe, -another held a little foot while the slipper was being removed. Amid the -tumult, mothers called their daughters, husbands their wives, brothers -their sisters. But those ladies were far too busy to answer. They were -whispering, squeezing hands, making appointments, arranging other -meetings; in truth, the moment of departure is not that at which the -guests enjoy themselves least.<a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a></p> - -<p>I tried to save Madame de Marsan the trouble of looking for her shawl in -that crowd; I went into the bedroom, and succeeded, not without -difficulty, in reaching the bed, on which the bonnets and wraps were -piled; my hand, seeking a shawl, came in contact with a firm and -well-rounded form, which I was not seeking, but which I embraced as a -matter of habit, and because I thought that it belonged to a lady with -whom I was very intimate. But the lady, who was stooping over the bed, -and whose back only could I see, turned suddenly. Horror! it was not she -whom I thought! I proceeded to entangle myself in apologies, but she -gave me a most tender and amiable smile, which seemed to invite me to -continue. Faith! I admit that I should not have expected it on the part -of the lady in question, who, in the salon, played the prude, the -straitlaced, stern moralist. Trust appearances, who will! I have already -said that I never would; but a great many people say that, and still -allow themselves to be deceived.</p> - -<p>At last everyone had succeeded in finding what he or she sought. -Friquet, who was anxious to go to bed, had been standing a long while on -the landing, candle in hand, ready to light us downstairs. As for the -master and mistress of the house, they had manifested clearly enough -their desire to see the last of us; so we started down. It was quite a -little procession; everyone took the hand of his favorite and descended -the stairs, laughing heartily over the evening’s entertainment. The -young men were very noisy, because Vauvert had urged them to be silent -on account of his neighbors. On the second floor, a young man upset the -candlestick that Friquet carried, and we found ourselves in utter -darkness.<a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a></p> - -<p>We all roared with laughter. The mammas scolded the perpetrator of the -mischief, the young ladies did the same, but I have reason to believe -that many of them were not very angry.</p> - -<p>“Idiot! he’s always doing such things!” Vauvert shouted at his nephew -from the top of the stairs.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t do it, uncle,” replied the clerk; “somebody knocked my candle -out of my hand on purpose.”</p> - -<p>“I not untershtand vy tay do amuse temselfs py making us near fall town -and may pe hurt ourselfs,” muttered the Baron de Witcheritche, whom I -believed to be very jealous of his wife, and who was made uneasy by the -darkness.</p> - -<p>“Holt tidt to te rail, my tear,” said the baroness, in a flutelike -little voice, “and tague care ov my Shtradifarius.”</p> - -<p>“Your Shtradifarius is chust te ting tat makes me frighted.”</p> - -<p>We went down carefully and very softly. I held Madame de Marsan’s hand, -and I did not complain of the darkness; but the little clerk, who had -relighted his candle at the porter’s lodge, returned with his light just -as we reached the lowest stair. I noticed then some changes in the order -of departure; some mantles awry, some faces very much excited, and many -eyes fastened on the ground, doubtless because the light made them -smart; but I do not mean to suggest any implications unfavorable to the -virtue of the ladies in question, married or single.</p> - -<p>The moment to say farewell had arrived. I saw diverse poor fellows who -lived near the Palais-Royal doomed to act as escort to feminine families -from the heart of the Marais. I saw young ladies manœuvre to take the -arms of their chosen friends; I saw many a wife sigh as she took her -husband’s arm. I should have seen much else, no doubt, if it had not -been dark. But Madame de Marsan<a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a> and her husband were in their carriage; -and he, learning that I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, obligingly offered -me a seat. I accepted without hesitation. Decidedly Monsieur de Marsan -was a most agreeable man.</p> - -<p>“There’s no one else!” Friquet shouted to the concierge, as he closed -the porte cochère.</p> - -<p>“That’s very lucky,” replied the concierge, closing his door. “Past one -o’clock. Your uncle will have notice to quit, I promise you. He makes a -great show, gives evening parties, and keeps people up all night, and -all for nothing! When a man wants to cut such capers, he should have a -house to himself.”</p> - -<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV<br /><br /> -<small>THE BOUQUET</small></h2> - -<p>In the carriage we talked of Monsieur Vauvert’s soirée musicale. Madame -de Marsan laughed about it a good deal; Monsieur de Marsan shrugged his -shoulders, and said that the mania for making a show was pervading all -classes of society; that it seemed to be no longer possible for people -to enjoy themselves <i>en famille</i>; that everybody was struggling to leave -the sphere in which destiny had placed him; that men were becoming more -eager for dissipation every day; that, to satisfy this imperious -craving, the mechanic sacrificed his week’s wages, the workingman his -savings, the tradesman his stock in trade, the clerk three-fourths of -his salary; hence embarrassment, borrowing, debts, failures. His -conclusion was that a man should reckon up his income before giving -dinners, receptions, and balls.<a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a></p> - -<p>“I should not suppose that Monsieur Vauvert’s receptions were likely to -ruin him,” said Madame de Marsan.</p> - -<p>“It seems so to you, madame, because you have noticed simply the general -effect of the affair, which, I agree, was not very splendid at first -glance; but for an under clerk those lamps, the candles on the music -stands, the hired piano, the music and the instruments that they sent -out for, and, lastly, the modest refreshments—all those things, madame, -are as extravagant for a government clerk at eighteen hundred francs, as -a magnificent function, where everything is provided in profusion, is -for a wealthy banker. The difference between the banker and the clerk is -that people go about praising the former’s party, which they are proud -of having attended, while they make fun of the clerk’s soirée, to which -they go for the sole purpose of sneering at those who put themselves out -to make people laugh at their expense.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur de Marsan was right; there was a husband who spoke with -profound wisdom. I approved what he said: first, because I agreed with -him; secondly, because I had my reasons for always being of his opinion.</p> - -<p>Monsieur de Marsan lived near the beginning of Faubourg Saint-Honoré; I -could not repress my desire to laugh when I learned his address, because -it reminded me of that infernal cabman who had taken me to the farther -end of Faubourg Montmartre on the night when I attempted to follow the -carriage; but I instantly attributed my merriment to a memory of the -concert, and, as we all retained some very comical ones, that seemed -perfectly natural. They set me down on Rue Saint-Florentin, after -inviting me to their house to listen, not to a concert, but to a little -music; there is a great difference between<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a> the two, for I had to admit -that I had heard no music at Monsieur Vauvert’s concert of amateurs.</p> - -<p>Standing at my door, I thought of my new acquaintance; I dared not as -yet say my conquest, but I secretly flattered myself that she soon would -be. Meanwhile, I had not forgotten the charming Caroline, who had given -me an appointment for the next day. My imagination had abundant food for -reverie: what a wellspring of pleasure the future had in store for me! I -could see nothing but roses, and my mind, enchanted, sought to -communicate its enthusiasm to my heart, which did what it could to find -something for itself in all that was going on. I went upstairs without a -light; for it was very late, and Madame Dupont extinguished her lamp at -midnight. I started to open my door; but as I was putting the key in the -lock, my hand came in contact with something—leaves—flowers—why, -someone had put a bouquet there! Ah! I knew who had done it!—I entered -my room; I soon procured a light and could look at my bouquet. It was -beautiful! orange blossoms, a rose or two, some carnations, and all -surrounded by pansies; the bouquet was tied with a small white -bow.—“Dear Nicette!” I thought; “so you still think of me! you are not -ungrateful! Ah, no! you have a warm heart and you are virtuous! What a -pity that, with those two priceless qualities, you were born in obscure -station! Not that I believe that your equals are incapable of -appreciating your virtues, but that I can do no more than admire them. -You will be a treasure to others, but you can be nothing to me; I must -seek such a treasure in high life; there are some there, no doubt, but -they are not all so seductive as you.”</p> - -<p>How had she succeeded in leaving that bouquet at my keyhole? If it had -not been so late, I should have gone<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a> down and questioned my concierge; -but I had no choice but to wait till morning. Raymond, who saw -everything, had undoubtedly seen the bouquet; but perhaps—he was so -engrossed by his aria from <i>Joconde</i>!</p> - -<p>I longed for the morning to come, that I might question Madame Dupont. I -could not tire of smelling Nicette’s bouquet and gazing at it in -admiration. I looked at the pansies.—“Ah!” I said to myself; “I -understand: it was gratitude that prompted the gift. Poor child! she -loves her benefactor; that is natural enough; but she is so pretty that -she will soon be besieged by lovers, her heart will speak, and she will -forget me. That is the way such affairs always end.”—I carefully placed -my bouquet in water and went to bed. I passed in review the events of -the day. Madame de Marsan and Caroline played a large part therein; they -were both coquettes—in a different way, to be sure, but it was coquetry -all the same. Alas! all the women I had known were coquettes, and I did -not honestly believe that any one of them had loved me; at all events, -it had been only for a moment. What does a sentiment amount to that has -the duration of a mere caprice, and that does not resist the slightest -trial? And my sister insisted that I should marry! Why should I hope to -find in a wife what I had failed to find in a mistress? Of course, the -indissoluble bond, children, duties, the opinion of society, might -prevent my wife from being unfaithful to me; but all those things would -not revive her love when it was once extinct.</p> - -<p>“I will not marry,” said I to myself; “I will make the most of -life.”—And yet it had seemed to me for some time, amid all my follies, -that I was not perfectly happy. Although fickle, I was sentimental; my -heart was constantly looking about for something to attach itself to; -it<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a> was not its fault that it did not find a heart to respond to it. Of -late, I had met none but perfidious, unfaithful women; I used always to -take the initiative in the inevitable separation, but the later ones had -not given me time; to be sure, I had been foolish enough to put them to -the test. I determined to be wiser in future, to take women for what -they were, and to thank fortune when I chanced to fall on my feet.</p> - -<p>Who could say? Perhaps Caroline would love me; perhaps Madame de Marsan -would be less coquettish in due time; perhaps the young flowermaker was -really virtuous. As for the adventures which Raymond attributed to -Madame de Marsan, my neighbor was so evil-tongued that I could not place -any reliance on what he said.</p> - -<p>I lulled myself to sleep with thoughts of my various inamoratas; but, -for some unknown reason, the memory of Nicette was always involved in my -schemes and my hopes. I concluded that it was the smell of her bouquet -that kept her so constantly in my thoughts; but the orange blossoms were -so sweet, that I was unwilling to take them out of my bedroom. What a -charming little attention, to bring me that bouquet and to place it so -that I could not enter my room without taking hold of it! Ah! if women -are coquettish and deceitful, they alone are capable of such -forethought, such amiable attentions, of that delicacy of feeling which -enables them to discover, even in the most trifling circumstance, a -means of giving an additional proof of their love or their friendship. I -went to sleep; but how did it happen that I dreamed neither of Caroline -nor of Madame de Marsan? It was Nicette whom I saw in my dreams, it was -she who engaged all my thoughts. Doubtless the odor of the orange -blossoms continued to remind me of her, even in my sleep.<a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV<br /><br /> -<small>THE DINNER PARTY</small></h2> - -<p>I was still sleeping when Madame Dupont came to arrange my room. I began -at once to question her, for I was anxious to know if she had seen -Nicette.</p> - -<p>“Did anyone call to see me last evening, Madame Dupont?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; no one.”</p> - -<p>“You saw no one come upstairs to my rooms?”</p> - -<p>“You know very well, monsieur, that I wouldn’t have let anybody come up, -knowing that you were out.”</p> - -<p>It was very strange! how had she succeeded in eluding the concierge’s -eyes? She was determined that no one should see her bringing the -nosegay; she thought that it might offend me, and her gift acquired the -greater value in my eyes on that account. To divert my mind from such -thoughts, I recalled the errands my brother-in-law desired me to do. I -went out, leaving Madame Dupont to place in a box all the artificial -flowers that were strewn about my floor; but I told her not to touch the -bouquet, which was on the mantel. It was a fertile source of conjectures -for my concierge.</p> - -<p>My day was fully occupied by the commissions to be executed in various -government offices, whence Déneterre, who was about to build and desired -to consummate various enterprises, hoped to obtain information and -support. I was not sorry to have something to do; the time passed more -rapidly. Do not believe, however, that<a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a> I was accustomed to spend my -days in absolute idleness; no, I was devoted to the fine arts, -especially poetry and music; and I turned my attention to them with -ardor, when my love-making folly left me the requisite leisure; but I -admit that I had neglected them shamefully for some time past.</p> - -<p>It was time to think about dinner. I did not forget that I had an -appointment for the evening on Boulevard Bondy, near the Château d’Eau. -In order to be in the neighborhood, I thought that, instead of dining at -the Palais-Royal as usual, it would be an excellent idea to dine on the -boulevards, where the small theatres are; then I should be close at hand -for the evening. I bent my steps, therefore, toward the Marais.</p> - -<p>When I was on Boulevard du Temple, I had only too great a number of -restaurants to choose from. I knew them all; I was not <i>en partie fine</i>; -so that I had no occasion to think of anything except which was the -best, without looking about for the most convenient and most secluded -private dining rooms. I decided in favor of the Cadran-Bleu; the prices -were high there, but ordinarily one could get a good dinner. I walked in -that direction and was just passing the Jardin Turc, when I saw a -gentleman in front of me with a lady on his arm. Raymond’s figure was -too easily recognizable for me to mistake it. It was certainly he: his -gait, his huge calves, his gestures—yes, it was he. As for the lady, -her face was hidden under an enormous bonnet; but it seemed to me that I -knew her as well. My neighbor was talking with great earnestness, and I -noticed that he pressed her arm to his side; he had every appearance of -being <i>en bonne fortune</i>. I was curious to know where they were going; -and I was determined to obtain a glimpse,<a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a> if possible, of the charmer’s -face, unseen by Raymond; for, as I have said, her figure was not -unfamiliar to me. But they crossed the boulevard and entered a -restaurant on the corner of Rue d’Angoulême—the Méridien; I remembered -that the waiters there were young women, and that it was a very -comfortable place; at least, it was so some years before. Why should I -not follow my neighbor? Perhaps chance would give me a glimpse of his -companion; and Raymond does so much boasting about his mistresses, who, -according to him, are always princesses and of rare beauty, that I was -not sorry to have an opportunity to see one of those marvels of -creation.</p> - -<p>I left the Cadran-Bleu at my right, and, resigned to the prospect of -dining less satisfactorily, entered the Méridien and asked for a private -room. I was taken to it by a waitress. We passed a room where I heard -Raymond’s voice, and I told my conductress to give me the adjoining one. -The partition between me and the room which Raymond and his flame -occupied was so thin that I could hear their voices when they did not -speak in undertones. I left my door open, too; and as theirs was not -closed, for their table was being laid, I could catch from time to time -a portion of what my neighbor said; for he had the unfortunate habit of -speaking very loud—a habit contracted in order to attract attention to -himself, and retained even in his incognito. Judging from what I heard, -he was putting himself out to please his guest, whose tastes he -constantly consulted in ordering the dinner. I heard him read the bill -of fare to her three times; she had much difficulty in making up her -mind; she didn’t like anything; she wasn’t hungry; it made no difference -to her; but she asked for a thousand things<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a> that were not on the bill. -I readily concluded, from her affectations and fussing, that my neighbor -had not made a very distinguished conquest; indeed, one would have said -that she was making fun of him and that it amused her to annoy him. I -was convinced that he would have nothing to show for his dinner.</p> - -<p>Every time that I heard the woman’s voice it recalled confused memories. -Yes, I was sure that I knew her, but I could not tell who she was; I had -known so many that I might be pardoned for confusing them in my memory; -and then, I caught only a few detached words. No matter! I was -determined to see her, and I would find a way!</p> - -<p>It seemed that Raymond decided at last to order the dinner himself, for -I heard nothing more from him. The lady hummed a comic-opera air; that -voice was certainly familiar to me.</p> - -<p>I heard the bell, and the waitress appeared. Raymond gave her the card -and ordered dinner at once, and the girl went downstairs. The lady -expressed a wish for some fromage fouetté, which my neighbor had not -ordered, and he ran after the girl to add it to his order. As he passed -my room, the door of which I had been careful to leave ajar, he glanced -in and saw me.</p> - -<p>“What do I see? my dear friend Dorsan!”</p> - -<p>“Himself, Monsieur Raymond. What on earth are you doing here?”</p> - -<p>He entered the room with an air of mystery, walking on tiptoe, and -pointed, with a smile, to the adjoining room.</p> - -<p>“I am in there,” he said, trying to speak in an undertone; “next door.”</p> - -<p>“Oho!”</p> - -<p>“With—someone.<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I understand! an amourette, a <i>partie fine</i>!”</p> - -<p>“Exactly.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a terrible fellow. They accuse me of being fickle, a deceiver, -but I am sure that you’re a hundred times worse than I.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t deny that I’m rather given to changing!”</p> - -<p>“And the lady?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! charming, delicious! a regular swell, with her carriage and livery! -We are here incog.”</p> - -<p>“So I imagine.”</p> - -<p>“She has granted me to-day a favor she has refused a thousand other -men.”</p> - -<p>“What a lucky dog you are! You arouse my curiosity; might I not see -her?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! impossible, my dear fellow, impossible! she’s a woman who is most -particular about her reputation. If she knew that I had talked about her -to one of my friends, she would be deadly angry with me and would never -forgive me.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, I’ll say no more about it; I see that it would be no -kindness to you. I congratulate you, none the less, on such a brilliant -conquest.”</p> - -<p>“It’s worth what it costs, that’s true. You know that in the matter of -women I am rather particular; I don’t take up with the first comer; I -insist on good form and style.”</p> - -<p>I thought that Monsieur Raymond was trying to be sarcastic.</p> - -<p>“Above all things, I like to subdue those who are cruel,” he continued; -“with them there are at least some merit and firmness—you understand. -But I wager that my charmer is getting impatient; adieu, neighbor! love -and pleasure call me.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t keep them waiting.<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>”</p> - -<p>Raymond left my room, his bosom swelling with delight at being seen <i>en -bonne fortune</i>, and returned to his own, closing the door behind him. -All that he had said increased my curiosity; I was convinced that he had -been telling me fables, as usual. I gave no credit to his tales of great -ladies; and I could see him cudgelling his brains for lies while he was -talking to me; indeed, he seemed to go more into detail than his custom -was, the better to pull the wool over my eyes.—You were not sly enough -to catch me, my dear Raymond! it was because you had happened to see me -with a flower girl that you put on so many airs and hurled epigrams at -me; but I had a shrewd idea that your great swell was not worth my -humble Nicette.</p> - -<p>My window looked on the boulevard, and, while I waited for my soup, I -opened the sash to enjoy the prospect. I was not <i>en partie fine</i>, -consequently had no desire for a subdued light. I observed that my -neighbor’s blinds were not lowered, and my conclusion was strengthened -that Raymond’s affairs had not progressed very far.</p> - -<p>As I watched the passers-by, I saw a young man whom I knew stop in front -of our restaurant. It was the same Gerville who lived in our house, and -with whom Mademoiselle Agathe passed the memorable night when I offered -hospitality to Nicette. What was he doing there? He stopped and looked -this way and that, as if he were expecting or seeking someone.</p> - -<p>The window in my neighbors’ Good! perhaps the lady would come there for -a breath of air and I could see her face. But what was the matter? I -heard an exclamation, and the window was suddenly closed; something -extraordinary must have happened.<a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a> In truth, I seemed to be becoming -almost as inquisitive as Raymond.</p> - -<p>I walked away from the window; a warm discussion was in progress in the -next room. Faith! they could do what they chose! I proposed to dine, for -I was hungry. At that very moment the waitress appeared with my soup. -But what a racket! Raymond suddenly rushed out of his room and into -mine, pale, haggard, trembling, and in his haste jostled the servant and -caused her to spill my soup on the floor.</p> - -<p>“Oh! mon Dieu! what a mess, monsieur!” exclaimed the girl, picking up -her tureen. “You have made me burn myself awfully—all that hot soup on -my foot! I know that I shall have big blisters there!”</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, my girl; I’ll pay for your soup.”</p> - -<p>“And what about my apron, which is ruined, and my leg?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll pay you for everything!” Raymond replied, with no idea what he was -saying; and he pushed the girl out of the room and carefully closed the -door.</p> - -<p>“Well, well! what in the devil’s the matter with you, Monsieur Raymond? -you look as if you’d had a fright!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! my dear friend, I have good reason to!—something has happened—a -circumstance—I am in a terrible plight. Wait till I look out of the -window; but first be good enough to draw the curtain so that he can’t -see me.”</p> - -<p>“Are you going mad, neighbor?”</p> - -<p>Raymond did not answer me; he went to the window and looked out, taking -care to conceal himself behind the curtain, and putting his head out -with the utmost precaution. I saw that he became paler than ever.<a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a></p> - -<p>“He’s there,” he said at last.</p> - -<p>“Who, pray?”</p> - -<p>“Gerville.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! so he is. But what difference does that make to you?”</p> - -<p>“It makes a great difference to me. Don’t you know that he is horribly -jealous and quite capable of going to terrible lengths?”</p> - -<p>“What of it?”</p> - -<p>“Understand that he’s here on my account. I am sure that he is watching -for me; and he has some reason to, for I am with his mistress.”</p> - -<p>“What! can it possibly be Mademoiselle Agathe whom you chose to -transform into a lady with a carriage and livery of her own?”</p> - -<p>“What would you have, my dear fellow? I did it in order to disguise her -better, to spare her reputation.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! so far as that goes, you may take my word that she has nothing to -fear. Ha! ha! ha! Monsieur Raymond, what you must have are cruel -creatures, women of a certain style!”</p> - -<p>“You may jest about it later, my friend, but save me now, I implore you; -my only hope is in you to extricate me from the frightful position I am -in.”</p> - -<p>“For heaven’s sake, explain yourself!”</p> - -<p>“Gerville will come into this house, I am perfectly sure. Somebody must -have told him that I am here. Be obliging enough to take my place for a -moment, and give me yours in this room; I will leave my door open, he -will see that I am alone, and his suspicions will vanish.”</p> - -<p>“But why don’t you lock yourself in with your inamorata? he won’t break -down your door.<a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>”</p> - -<p>“He is quite capable of it! or else he would wait for me on the -boulevard; and if I should go out with Agathe, you can judge for -yourself what a scandalous scene there would be. Furthermore, we live in -the same house, you know; and if he has discovered anything, how shall I -ever dare to go home? He’s just the man to lie in wait for me on the -stairs at night.”</p> - -<p>“Then why in the devil did you meddle with his mistress?”</p> - -<p>“What can you expect? a moment of folly. It was that morning I waited -with her on our landing that it took me.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes! the morning you both played the spy on me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! great God! he has come in!” cried Raymond, who had glanced out on -the boulevard; “save me, my friend—in pity’s name! Go—I’ll join you -later.”</p> - -<p>Giving me no time to reply, Raymond jammed my hat over my ears, dragged -and pushed me out of my private room, and locked himself in. I made no -resistance, and without any idea as yet as to what I proposed to do for -my neighbor, whose most distinctive quality courage certainly was not, I -entered the room where Agathe was. She uttered a cry of surprise when -she saw me.</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! it’s Eugène! Is it you? is it really you?”</p> - -<p>“Why, to be sure it’s I, sacrificing myself to save poor Raymond, who’s -in such a fright that it will make him ill.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! ha! I can’t get over it!”</p> - -<p>“Hush! he’s in there; he can hear you laugh, and I fancy that he would -take it ill of you just at this moment.<a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Really! what do I care for that? Ha! ha! ha! Do you think that I’m in -love with Raymond, I should like to know? Oh! he is much too stupid, -really! and he tries to play the Lovelace! I couldn’t stand it any -longer! When I opened the window and saw Gerville on the boulevard, I -gave a shriek and stepped back into the room as quick as I could; for I -don’t want Gerville to see me with Raymond. Not that he’s jealous, but -he might not like it. Do you know what I did? It came into my head to -tell my old idiot that Gerville is fiendishly jealous, and that he had -been suspicious of him ever since he learned that we spent two hours -together on the landing, and that I was certain that he was on the -boulevard for the sole purpose of watching us. The more I said, the more -frightened my adorer became, for he has even more affection for his own -person than for mine. And when I added that Gerville was quite capable -of stabbing him,—ha! ha! the poor man took his hat, and is running -still, I fancy. Ha! ha! ha! but it’s very kind of him to send me such an -agreeable companion. Meanwhile, I would like to know what has become of -Gerville; I think that he was just waiting for one of his friends.”</p> - -<p>“Hush! somebody is coming upstairs. Raymond is opening his door; let’s -listen. Gerville is speaking.”</p> - -<p>We put our ears close to the door, which we very softly opened an inch -or two, and overheard the following conversation:</p> - -<p>“Ah! it’s neighbor Raymond.”</p> - -<p>“Himself, at your service. How are you?”</p> - -<p>“Very well. How’s this? are you dining alone in a private room?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I have something on my mind, some important business, and I was -glad not to be disturbed.<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>”</p> - -<p>“In that case, I’ll leave you. I am waiting for somebody who agreed to -meet me on the boulevard here; but he’s late, and I am going to dine. -Good-day, neighbor; and a good appetite!”</p> - -<p>“Your servant!”</p> - -<p>Gerville closed the door of Raymond’s room and went into another, -passing ours as he did so.</p> - -<p>“Well, mademoiselle,” I said to Agathe, “choose; to which of these -gentlemen will you give the preference?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I have a delicious idea!”</p> - -<p>“Some crazy scheme, I’ll be bound, for you think of no other kind.”</p> - -<p>“This will be unique. Help me, my dear Eugène, I beg you.”</p> - -<p>Without another word to me, Agathe began to stride up and down the room; -she pushed the chairs about, threw some of them down, and, amid the -uproar, cried out from time to time:</p> - -<p>“Don’t be angry with me, my friend! I assure you that you are mistaken. -I give you my word that I haven’t seen Raymond; that I don’t care for -him! Ask Dorsan; he invited me to dinner, because he was expecting a -lady.”</p> - -<p>I began to understand Agathe’s plan; she proposed to make Raymond think -that Gerville was with us. To second her, I also made noise enough for -two, and attempted now and then to imitate Gerville’s voice. We stopped -at last, tired out by our comedy; Agathe made me a sign which I -understood; I left the room, the door of which she locked behind me, and -stole on tiptoe into Raymond’s, where I found him shivering and half -dead with terror in front of a beefsteak with potatoes. I locked the -door before approaching him, and put a finger to my lips; we had the -aspect of two conspirators.<a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a> Raymond spoke so low at this time that I -could hardly hear him.</p> - -<p>“He’s in there,” I said, pointing to the next room.</p> - -<p>“Oh! I know it only too well; I heard him. But how did it happen?”</p> - -<p>“We thought he had gone downstairs, and we opened our door; but he was -on the watch; he saw Agathe and came in. Then there was a terrible -scene, for he suspected that she came here with you; I’m not the one of -whom he is jealous.”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! I know only too well that it’s I. I saw plainly enough just -now that he didn’t believe what I told him. He had doubts; perhaps he -saw us coming along the boulevard.”</p> - -<p>“That is quite possible; you are so infernally imprudent! When you -arrange such a party as this, you should take a cab, and enter the -restaurant by the rear door.”</p> - -<p>“That’s so; you are right; we ought to have come in from behind! but I -promise you that I’ll go out that way.”</p> - -<p>“He thought at first that I was in your confidence, that I was here -solely to help you. In fact, I am exposing myself to some risk in your -behalf.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! my dear Dorsan! never while I live shall I forget what I owe to -you!”</p> - -<p>“However, things are beginning to calm down. Agathe has succeeded in -making him listen to reason; she told him that she came here for no -other purpose than to watch him; she’s playing the jealous lover now.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that’s delicious! charming! these women always find a way out of -everything!”</p> - -<p>“I should prefer to let them dine alone; but he won’t listen to it. I -left the room on the pretext of ordering dinner.<a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>”</p> - -<p>“It’s all ordered, my dear friend; and I shall take good care to pay for -it. I don’t mean to put you to any expense, when you are sacrificing -yourself to help me.”</p> - -<p>“As you please; I’ll give the word to the waitress, and we will dine.”</p> - -<p>“Go, my noble-hearted friend; tell her to be sure not to mention me.”</p> - -<p>“Never fear.”</p> - -<p>“I have but one fear now.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?”</p> - -<p>“Just now, with the idea of giving Agathe a surprise, I amused myself, -while her back was turned, by slipping my picture into her reticule.”</p> - -<p>“Your picture?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I mean one of my silhouettes, you know, which I had pasted on a -pink card, with a border of little cupids. If Agathe should happen to -drop that when she takes out her handkerchief; or, not knowing what it -is, should take it into her head to look at it——”</p> - -<p>“Peste! that would make a pretty row! Gerville would surely say then -that I was in collusion with you to deceive him.”</p> - -<p>“Try, my friend, try to prevent Agathe from blowing her nose!”</p> - -<p>“I can’t promise that, but I’ll motion to her to blow it in her napkin; -that cannot compromise you.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the very thing.”</p> - -<p>“Adieu! a longer absence might arouse suspicion.”</p> - -<p>Once more I left Raymond, who locked himself into his room. I returned -to Agathe. The waitress arrived with the dinner; she seemed surprised at -the change of cavalier, but two or three words in her ear and a -five-franc piece in her hand speedily retained her in our<a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a> interest. She -promised to tell the stout gentleman that there were three in our party, -and thereupon she left us, overjoyed to be able to amuse herself at the -expense of the man who had upset a tureen of soup on her feet.</p> - -<p>“Now, let us dine,” said I, taking my seat at the table beside Agathe; -“no one can deny that we have earned it. I hardly expected to dine with -you, I admit.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I! but impromptu pleasures are always the best.”</p> - -<p>“A month ago we had already become reasonable and sedate in our -tête-à-têtes.”</p> - -<p>“I tell you, we did well to part; we are much better pleased to see each -other.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I know that you are passionately fond of variety.”</p> - -<p>“No, my friend, not so much of variety as of forbidden fruit; and when I -think that Gerville is at our right, Raymond at our left, and that I -have succeeded in avoiding the necessity of eating in his company the -dinner he ordered—ha! ha! ha!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t laugh so loud!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! that will reassure him, don’t you see? he will think that -Gerville’s in good humor.—Ha! ha! ha! it will bring back his appetite.”</p> - -<p>Agathe was in the wildest spirits; she was compelled to hold her napkin -over her mouth to stifle her outbursts of merriment; the pleasure of -deceiving two men at once gave to her face an unfamiliar expression; she -had never been so pretty in my eyes, I confess. She teased me, pinched -me, caressed me, threw her arms about me. Ah! Mademoiselle Agathe, you -were a perfidious creature, but most seductive! Moreover, for several -days, I had been making love with my eyes alone, and I felt that it was -incumbent on me to make our mystification of Raymond<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a> complete.—Ah! my -poor neighbor! if you but knew what ardor Agathe showed in mystifying -you!</p> - -<p>But we heard someone coming upstairs; it was our waitress. That young -woman had an abundance of tact and penetration; she turned the knob at -least thrice before she opened our door. She brought the first course. I -tasted the wine; it was Volnay, first quality. Gad! my neighbor was a -connoisseur!</p> - -<p>“Oh! you’ll have a fine dinner,” laughed the girl; “the gentleman didn’t -forget anything: champagne, dessert, and the <i>coup de milieu</i>!”</p> - -<p>“Aha! so we’re to have the <i>coup de milieu</i>!” said Agathe; “we musn’t -forget that, my friend, do you hear?”</p> - -<p>“Never fear.—By the way, my girl, did our neighbor question you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I told him that madame was dining with two gentlemen; he seems a -little easier in his mind.”</p> - -<p>“That is good.”</p> - -<p>We did full justice to Raymond’s dinner; it was dainty and toothsome. In -a quiet moment, I asked Agathe to tell me how it happened that she had -come there to dine in a private room with my neighbor, whom she did not -like at all.</p> - -<p>“I did it to have a better chance to make fun of him,” she replied. -“Ever since the day we waited on your landing to see your little flower -girl, Raymond has been pleased to make love to me. He pesters me with -his declarations and his billets-doux, which I receive just to show them -to the girls in the shop; and they make a lot of sport for us, for his -style’s as ridiculous as his person. He had asked me twenty times for an -assignation, when I happened to meet him to-day near Porte Saint-Denis. -I<a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a> was just going home; I had been to Gerville’s, but didn’t find him. -Raymond urged me, begged me, to dine with him at a restaurant. I refused -at first; but the temptation to make a fool of him, to laugh at his -expense, in short, to have some sport, led me to change my mind. -Besides, you know what a heedless creature I am. I didn’t expect to meet -Gerville, for whom I care very little, however. So I accepted, and -allowed myself to be conducted to a private room by poor Raymond, who -believed that his triumph was assured, whereas I never had the slightest -intention of granting him any favors.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s to his health!”</p> - -<p>“With all my heart.”</p> - -<p>“Is this the <i>coup de milieu</i>?”</p> - -<p>“One moment! how fast you go! we haven’t got to it yet. This vol-au-vent -is delicious, and so is this filet sauté, with madeira and truffles.”</p> - -<p>“And this salmi of partridges, also with truffles. Ah! poor Raymond! do -you see his game? he ordered truffles in everything!”</p> - -<p>The waitress arrived with the rum and the next course.</p> - -<p>“Good Lord!” exclaimed Agathe; “truffles with champagne sauce! why, -he’ll kill us with ’em! What is our neighbor eating?”</p> - -<p>“Chicken, with rice, madame.”</p> - -<p>“Good! that’s very nourishing; give him some prunes for dessert; they’re -an emollient.”</p> - -<p>The girl left us. We enjoyed the truffles, the chicken, and the crabs, -whose claws Agathe wanted to send to Raymond. We did not forget the -<i>coup de milieu</i>; my companion thought a great deal of that, and so did -I. With his dinner <i>de bonne fortune</i>, that philandering Raymond had put -the devil into us; he evidently thought<a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a> truffles a necessity in his -<i>parties fines</i>! But, by sending me to take his place with Agathe, he -had allotted me a terrific task!</p> - -<p>“Avenge yourself,” she kept saying to me, “avenge yourself, Eugène; you -know that Raymond is responsible for our having seen your little vestal -leave your rooms; you know, too, that he used to make remarks to the -people in the house when I came to see you; you know that by his -inquisitiveness and chattering he has made trouble between you and -several women. Avenge yourself; still avenge yourself!”</p> - -<p>What terrible creatures women are when it is a question of vengeance! -Agathe still urged me, and yet my spleen was rapidly vanishing. Luckily, -the girl brought the dessert. Champagne, fromage à la vanille, biscuits -à la rose, gelée au marasquin, and Madame Amphoux’s liqueur des Iles. I -was lost! Raymond was determined to have my life!</p> - -<p>“I would like to know what he’s doing now,” said Agathe; “just go and -speak to him.”</p> - -<p>I left the room, and she held the door ajar to listen; I coughed gently -at Raymond’s door, which he instantly opened.</p> - -<p>“Well! how far have you got?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh! everything is going along nicely, very nicely! we are eating -dessert.”</p> - -<p>“And Gerville?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! he’s forgotten everything!”</p> - -<p>“I was afraid that he would make a scene with Agathe. I thought I heard -groans and sighs.”</p> - -<p>“They were of repentance and love; and then, she still pretends to be -jealous; but I see plainly enough that she is thinking only of you.<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! she adores me, my friend; I can’t doubt that.”</p> - -<p>“Your dinner is delicious; you do things very well, Monsieur Raymond.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; I ordered it for a purpose! I expected to partake of it with -her!”</p> - -<p>“She knows that you ordered it, and she is just as much obliged to you. -I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t eat a truffle without thinking of -you.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Agathe! But I hear laughter, it seems to me.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that is she. She laughs with her lips, to deceive him; but the -fromage fouetté awaits me; adieu, my friend!”</p> - -<p>“What! haven’t you drunk the champagne yet!”</p> - -<p>“Not yet.”</p> - -<p>“But you look rather heated.”</p> - -<p>“It’s the <i>coup de milieu</i> that gives me that appearance.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me, had I better go away before or after you?”</p> - -<p>“Why, before—that would be the wiser way.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take a stroll in the garden of the Café Turc, in front of the -pavilion that bears a crescent.”</p> - -<p>“I can see it from here.”</p> - -<p>“If by any chance Gerville should leave you, or if he should take Agathe -away, join me there.”</p> - -<p>“Agreed.”</p> - -<p>“I will wait for you, then. Au revoir, my dear neighbor! I beg you to -excuse me for giving you so much trouble. What you are doing for me -to-day is an act of genuine friendship. I have but one further request -to make; keep an eye on my silhouette! motion to Agathe not to touch her -handbag. Do this for me, my friend.”</p> - -<p>“I have done it already.”</p> - -<p>“No matter; do it again, for my peace of mind.”</p> - -<p>“I will try; au revoir!<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>”</p> - -<p>I returned to Agathe, who laughed till the tears came. I had not as yet -thought of mentioning the silhouette to her; that was the bouquet for -dessert. My neighbor’s profile was pasted on a pink card, and we saw two -lines written at the bottom. Poetry of Raymond’s composition: that -should be a curiosity.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“My profile with these little Loves is surrounded,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Since I feel every day, love, for thee love unbounded.”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>Ingenious, in very truth! worthy of Berthellemot! But as we noticed that -one of the little Loves was standing on his nose, we concluded that it -should read “I smell,” instead of “I feel.” Agathe proposed at first to -stick my neighbor’s likeness on the mirror in our dining room; but she -changed her mind. She put it carefully away, intending to have copies -made of it, which she proposed to enclose in amorous circulars composed -from Raymond’s billets-doux, and to send them to all the milliner’s -apprentices of her acquaintance, taking care to write at the bottom the -address of the original of the portrait.</p> - -<p>The champagne finished what the stimulating dinner had begun; we were in -the mood to say and do all sorts of foolish things. Agathe stuffed -herself with sweetmeats and jelly; I drew the corks; the wine foamed and -sparkled, and soon passed from our glasses to our lips; we no longer -knew what we were saying, but we knew very well what we were doing! -Agathe threw aside all restraint; and if Raymond was listening, surely -he must have thought that we were fighting.</p> - -<p>But the champagne, which effervesces when it is first poured out, will -not effervesce again unless it is well shaken, and in due time refuses -to effervesce at all. In like manner, readers, the volcanoes which have -displayed<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a> the greatest activity become extinct! In like manner, readers -of the gentler sex, those seductive fires which your lovely eyes emit, -and to which you owe so many conquests, will die away. Everything has -its day, alas! in nature; everything falls to ruin and decay; everything -dies. It is the universal law; for that we are born, and each step in -life is a step toward the grave; there is no possibility there of -arranging compromises.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Death hath rigors unexampled;<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Vainly pray we to her;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The cruel creature stuffs her ears<br /></span> -<span class="i5">And lets us shout at will.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The poor man in his thatch-roofed cottage<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Is subject to her laws;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The guard who stands at the Louvre gates<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Protects not kings from her.”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>I cannot say how the champagne led me to this quotation; however, I am -sure that you will not take it ill of me; these lines are never -misplaced, and I would like, indeed, to have been the author of them.</p> - -<p>We had become virtuous then, in action at all events. I looked at my -watch; almost eight o’clock! The deuce! and my rendezvous. The champagne -had not entirely deprived me of memory, but I confess that Agathe was -responsible for the loss of a large part of my zeal.</p> - -<p>Raymond must have been on the watch at the Café Turc for a long while; -as for Gerville, we had seen him leave the house more than an hour -before; so that there was nothing to detain us. My companion donned her -bonnet and shawl and tried to assume a demure and modest air, which she -was unable to master, even by lowering her eyes. I did what I could to -maintain a grave demeanor and a steady gait; that infernal champagne -always did go<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a> to my head! However, we could safely show ourselves on -the boulevard; we were only a little giddy.</p> - -<p>We left the Méridien, where Raymond had paid for everything. The hostess -and waitresses saluted us with smiling faces.</p> - -<p>“Is there anything amusing in our looks?” I asked Agathe.</p> - -<p>“No; but do you suppose that those people don’t divine that we’ve been -making a fool of Raymond? Perhaps they think he’s my husband.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that would be rather too much!”</p> - -<p>“Bah! such things have been seen.”</p> - -<p>“Here we are at the Café Turc; shall we go in?”</p> - -<p>“What for?”</p> - -<p>“To relieve Raymond, who’s doing sentry duty there.”</p> - -<p>“Let him stay there; I’ve no desire to be bored any more with his love; -I have had enough of it. Everything has turned out as I wanted; but as -such adventures never happen twice, I assure you that he will never -inveigle me into a private dining room again.”</p> - -<p>“Poor Raymond! This <i>partie fine</i> will have been very profitable to him, -won’t it? But here’s the Château d’Eau; someone is waiting for me here, -and I must leave you.”</p> - -<p>“What! already?”</p> - -<p>“Our play is ended, my dear girl; we can be of no further assistance to -each other; let us not postpone our separation until ennui succeeds -pleasure, and the fumes of the champagne have entirely vanished; we -shall retain a pleasant memory of this meeting, at all events.”</p> - -<p>“Adieu, then, my dear Eugène! may we enjoy ourselves as much when we -next meet!”</p> - -<p>Agathe went her way, and I started to make the circuit of the Château -d’Eau.<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI<br /><br /> -<small>THE ROSE WITHOUT THORNS</small></h2> - -<p>Six times I had walked around the pond. From time to time I halted in -front of the lions, which I contemplated from every point of view; then, -for variety’s sake, I listened to the plash of the water as it fell into -the passage through which it flows back to the canals. All this was most -entertaining, no doubt, and still I began to weary of it. The sentinel -watched me closely; doubtless he began to look upon me as a suspicious -character.</p> - -<p>It grew dark, and I was on the point of going away, when I saw coming -toward me a woman in a little cap. Was it she at last? I dared not -flatter myself that it was; I had been mistaken so many times, for my -eyesight is not very good; but she continued to approach me. Yes, it was -really she. Caroline accosted me with a smiling face; she was not in her -best clothes; but there was a certain daintiness in her costume: her cap -was neatly tied, and her hair had been in curl papers all day, I would -have sworn; a woman does not take so much pains for a man to whom she -does not intend to listen. The girl seemed to me a sly minx enough! But -although the champagne had made me even more reckless than usual, I was -not inclined to offer my arm to a grisette, in a cap, within the walls -of Paris.</p> - -<p>“I was beginning to lose all hope of seeing you,” I said.<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a></p> - -<p>“Why? it’s only a quarter past eight, and I can’t get away from my shop -any earlier.”</p> - -<p>“Let us go for a stroll in the fields.”</p> - -<p>“In the fields? oh, no! it’s too late. I can’t be out later than nine; -my aunt would scold me.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a very tiresome aunt of yours. Let us go in somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t want to. Oh! if I should be seen with you!”</p> - -<p>I did not choose to tell her that I was no more anxious than she to -exhibit myself on the boulevard with her, for, after all, there were -some social conventions which I did not care to defy. She wore an apron -and a cap, and that fact annoyed me greatly. Certainly I think no more -of a milliner than of a flowermaker, but Agathe was dressed as a lady, -and I could afford to offer her my arm; a bonnet and shawl make a vast -difference in a woman; and that is one of the petty foibles to which a -young man has to submit when he goes into society, even though he -despise them. If Nicette had met me at noon instead of at midnight, I -certainly should not have escorted her to Madame Jérôme’s on foot.</p> - -<p>“Suppose we walk a little on Rue des Marais,” said Caroline; “I am not -so much afraid of being seen there.”</p> - -<p>“Very well.”</p> - -<p>That suggestion was most welcome to me. We went down the stairs, took -the Passage du Wauxhall, and in a moment we were on Rue des Marais, a -street most favorable for sentimental promenades. Mademoiselle Caroline -seemed to know the best places.</p> - -<p>The subject of our conversation may be divined: between two lovers, -between a gallant and a coquette, between a pretty woman and a comely -youth, between<a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a> a young man and a grisette, the same subject is always -discussed; they talk of love and nothing else. For centuries, love has -formed the staple subject of conversation between man and woman; many -observations must have been made thereupon, and still the theme is not -exhausted. To be sure, everyone treats it in his own way, but the end in -view is always the same, is it not?</p> - -<p>The fumes of the champagne led me to discuss the subject rather -cavalierly; Mademoiselle Caroline, who probably had not dined so -sumptuously as I had, stood on her dignity. I could obtain nothing from -her; she kept her aunt constantly to the fore, complaining of the -severity with which she was treated; but as she had no means of -providing for herself, she must needs submit to necessity.</p> - -<p>I fancied that I could divine the girl’s ambition; she loved liberty, -referred with a sigh to the matter of bonnets and dresses, and seemed to -be as sick of her aunt as of her shop. I afforded her a glimpse of a -possible means of becoming free and happy; I dropped a word or two -concerning a nicely furnished little room of which she would be -mistress, where she could work as she chose, where, in short, everything -would be subject to her wishes. It was all very alluring, and -Mademoiselle Caroline listened very attentively; she did not reply in -words, but she sighed and looked down. I talked of dresses, theatres, -pleasure parties; she looked at me with a smile, and allowed me to steal -a very affectionate kiss. I had found her weak side: the girl was -disgusted with her present life; she longed to be her own mistress; in a -word, she wanted to have a chamber of her own. Those little grisettes -are all alike; that is what they all aspire to; as if when they once had -lodgings of their own their<a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a> fortunes were made. I saw that the -flowermaker cherished that aspiration, and that until it was fulfilled -she would accord me no favors. That denoted, not love exactly, but -foresight and shrewdness. What should I do? Faith! one more foolish -thing. Caroline was fascinating; perhaps gratitude would attach her to -me. Gratitude, because I desired to seduce her! you will say. I agree -that it is hardly the fitting word, but observe that I gave her an -opportunity to reflect at leisure.</p> - -<p>“Caroline, does your aunt need you to support her?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; on the contrary, I am sure that she wouldn’t be at all -sorry to have me provided for.”</p> - -<p>“I understand. And you have no other relations?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“And you two would part without regret?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, indeed! for we often quarrel; and if I had been able to have a -room of my own, I’d have done it long ago.”</p> - -<p>“In that case, you shall be in your own quarters to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“What, monsieur! do you mean it?”</p> - -<p>She jumped for joy, then checked herself, because she thought that she -ought not to let me see how delighted she was, but that it was incumbent -on her to make some show of hesitation.</p> - -<p>“But, monsieur, I don’t know whether I ought to accept.”</p> - -<p>“What is there to prevent?”</p> - -<p>“What will people say?”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that that ought not to worry you so much as your aunt; -and as you are not afraid of making her angry, what do you care for what -strangers may say?<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>”</p> - -<p>“That’s so, monsieur; it makes no difference at all to me; besides, -several friends of mine have done it, and been no worse off for it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! there’s no lack of examples. And so, my dear girl, be all ready at -this time to-morrow night. I will come here for you. Make up a little -bundle of whatever you need most, and I will take you to your room.”</p> - -<p>“Well, as you insist upon it, until to-morrow! I’ll be ready.”</p> - -<p>“By the way, one more question. Who is that Monsieur Jules you were with -at Tivoli?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! he’s a very well-behaved young fellow, who takes me out to walk -sometimes with my aunt.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you; but even if he’s a hundred times more well-behaved than -you say, you must promise me not to receive him at your room, and not to -go to walk with him any more.”</p> - -<p>“Never fear; I know that I mustn’t do that, and I don’t mean to annoy -you in any way.”</p> - -<p>“You are a dear girl; so it’s decided, is it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; until to-morrow; it’s late and I must go.”</p> - -<p>I took an earnest of our bargain from Caroline’s lips; and she hurried -away, doubtless to prepare for the coming change in her situation.</p> - -<p>So I had arranged to keep Mademoiselle Caroline! The word had an ill -sound in my ears; in general, it is understood to refer to those old -libertines, ugly, stupid, and infirm, whom fortune alone has favored, -and who obtain by the power of gold favors which others often have -obtained without effort. Those men are rarely loved, and are almost -always deceived; I myself had taken enjoyment at their expense; and I -was going to keep Caroline! No, I was going to establish her in -lodgings, that was all; I might<a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a> perhaps make her a little present now -and then, but she must continue to work; I had no inclination to gratify -all her whims; therefore, I was her lover, not her keeper.</p> - -<p>We always endeavor to look at our own actions in the most favorable -light; moreover, Caroline was really pretty; I had been sighing for her -many days, and at last my hopes were to be fulfilled. I persuaded myself -that she loved me, although I had detected nothing in her conduct to -demonstrate it; but it is so pleasant to flatter one’s self that one has -aroused that sentiment! She was a flirt, but I would steady her; she -would see no one but me, go out with no one but me; she would do -whatever I desired, and she would be faithful to me; that is the way I -arranged matters in my mind.</p> - -<p>The next morning I considered what I had to do; I had no time to lose. I -dressed in haste, and as I closed my door I ran into Raymond, who was -coming to pay me a visit, in his morning gown.</p> - -<p>“Going out already?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yes, neighbor; I have a great deal to do to-day.”</p> - -<p>“The devil! I wanted to talk with you.”</p> - -<p>“You must wait until another time.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t join me yesterday at the Café Turc; I waited in the garden -till ten o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry. Adieu!”</p> - -<p>“But I say, what about my picture? Has Agathe my picture?”</p> - -<p>I had ceased to listen, and was at the foot of the stairs. I scoured the -neighborhood in search of a suitable room. I wanted one of which I could -have immediate possession, and one that was not far from my own -lodgings. I had not succeeded in finding what I desired,—they were all -either too high up, or too dark, or too dirty,—and I was<a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a> walking along -with my nose in the air, looking for signs, when, as I paused in front -of a porte cochère, I heard a faint cough near me. It seemed to me to be -a simulated cough; I turned, and saw Nicette. I was within two yards of -her stand and had no idea of it. Nicette looked at me, then lowered her -eyes; she dared not bow to me or speak to me by daylight. Poor child! At -that moment I remembered her bouquet, which I had entirely forgotten; I -had never thanked her for her thoughtfulness. I walked up to her, and, -as I selected a few flowers, told her in an undertone how deeply touched -I was by her remembrance. She blushed with pleasure, and I walked away -followed by her eyes.</p> - -<p>At last I found what I wanted, on Rue Caumartin; two small rooms which -were very neat and clean, very light, and could be occupied at once. It -only remained to furnish them; and with plenty of money nothing is so -easy. I hastened to an upholsterer’s, bought all that I required, and -had it sent to the house with me. In less than three hours the little -suite was completely furnished. At first I intended to supply only what -was strictly necessary, but my self-esteem interfered; I determined to -give Caroline a pleasant surprise; she must have an easy-chair for -resting, and a sofa for us two. A pretty woman must have plenty of -mirrors; but, above all else, she must have a dressing table and a -comfortable bed. She must have curtains to shield her from the gaze of -her neighbors; and they must be lined, to lessen the glare of the sun; -lastly, she must have a little clock, so that we should not forget the -time while talking of love, and I did not expect to talk of anything -else to Caroline. All these little details carried me much further than -I had at first proposed; but I would try to economize in some other<a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a> -direction, and those were extraordinary expenses and of infrequent -occurrence.</p> - -<p>At last everything was ready; I had the keys of the apartment. There was -no concierge in the house; that meant one less spy. But I must provide -for everything; Caroline would come that evening to take up her abode in -that quarter, which was unfamiliar to her; I must, at the very least, be -prepared to offer her some supper; surely there was a restaurant in the -neighborhood, and I would go at once to order a dainty repast. But had I -thought of everything that required to be done before my mistress should -take possession of her new abode? would she have everything she needed? -I decided to place fifteen louis in the commode, with which she could -provide for her immediate wants; for in the first days of her changed -position she would hardly feel like working, and that would be very -excusable, a girl’s head is so easily turned! But we become accustomed -to everything, and it seemed to me that if my pretty flowermaker chose -to be respectable and orderly, and to behave herself, she might be very -happy.</p> - -<p>I went to the restaurant and ordered a dainty supper for nine o’clock. -Then I set about trying to kill time until evening; it was dinner time, -but I was not hungry; no matter! I determined to dine, as that would -give me some occupation. When I had dined, it was six o’clock; I had -still two hours and a half before me, which would never end, I thought. -I decided to take a walk; it occurred to me that I should not be sorry -to meet Raymond, to divert my thoughts. So I went to Rue Vivienne, where -the milliner’s shop was in which Agathe was engaged; I was sure that -Raymond would be prowling about the neighborhood.<a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a></p> - -<p>As I drew near the shop, I saw a number of people collected about a -paper pasted on the wall within a few yards of the door. I was not in -the habit of stopping to read about lost dogs or other chattels; but I -saw that everybody was laughing, and concluded that it was not one of -those ordinary placards. I walked toward the crowd and listened:</p> - -<p>“It’s a good joke,” said one.</p> - -<p>“It’s a most excellent trick,” said another; “I’m sure it’s a good -likeness; I recognize that profile.”</p> - -<p>I pushed my way to the front, and—what did I see? Raymond’s silhouette -pasted on a great white sheet of paper, with these words written above -in huge letters:</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>“Notice to ladies, young and old. The original of this portrait is -looking for a lady of from fifteen to thirty-six years who is willing to -accept a dinner in a private dining room.”</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>I readily guessed the author of that piece of deviltry. Agathe and her -shopmates were standing in the doorway, laughing till they cried to see -the crowd in front of the silhouette and to hear the various remarks. I -was moved to pity for poor Raymond; if I had dared, I would have removed -his unlucky face, thus exposed to the laughter of the passers-by. To be -sure, it was hardly possible to recognize it in that black profile; but -my neighbor had a very peculiar cast of countenance; and the artist, -unluckily for Raymond, had caught his likeness perfectly; indeed, he had -had abundant time to practise, as Raymond had passed the whole evening -in his booth.</p> - -<p>Among the spectators I noticed little Friquet, whom one could always be -sure of finding in front of posters,<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a> caricature shops, cake sellers, -street singers, and all sorts of open-air shows. The little fellow had -recognized Raymond; he was holding his sides with laughter, and crying:</p> - -<p>“I say! I know him! It’s Monsieur Raymond; he comes to my aunt’s house -to sing! Oh! it’s he, sure enough! What a shame to paste him up there!”</p> - -<p>And although he characterized it as a shame, the rascal kept repeating:</p> - -<p>“I know him: it’s Monsieur Raymond, who comes to my aunt’s.”</p> - -<p>I was about to walk away, when I turned and saw Raymond parading in -front of Agathe’s shop, playing the dandy and ogling her with -significant glances, to which she replied only with roars of laughter.</p> - -<p>The poor devil was walking toward his portrait; if Friquet saw him, he -was lost; the little clerk would not fail to make him known to the -crowd. I determined to try to save him from that humiliation. I hastened -toward him, took his arm, and tried to lead him away with me.</p> - -<p>“Come, my dear Raymond, come; let’s take coffee together.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t do it, my friend; I am here for a purpose, you see. I am -watching Agathe; I want to speak to her.”</p> - -<p>“You can speak to her later; come on with me.”</p> - -<p>“No; this seems to me a favorable moment; she doesn’t take her eyes off -me.”</p> - -<p>The little traitress was, in truth, making the most ridiculous faces at -him, for fear he would go away. Monsieur Raymond, who had never known -her to look at him like that, and who saw that all the shopgirls had<a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a> -their eyes on him, was beside himself with delight; he swaggered along, -leaning on his cane; to no purpose did I pull him by the arm, it was -impossible to induce him to lose sight of the milliner’s shop. But he -noticed the crowd assembled a few steps away.</p> - -<p>“There’s something over yonder; let’s see what it is.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! it isn’t worth while; an offer of a reward for a lost dog, or an -advertisement of some new oil to prevent the hair from falling out or -turning white.”</p> - -<p>“I tell you, my dear fellow, those oils aren’t to be despised! For my -part, I try every one that comes out; I must confess that they often -give me a headache, but a man must risk something to retain his youth, -you must agree. However, I don’t think that’s what they’re looking at; -see how they’re all laughing! It must be something very amusing.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you know that in Paris the merest trifle is enough to collect a -hundred people?”</p> - -<p>“No matter; I want to see what it is; I like to laugh when I have an -opportunity. I’ll come back in a minute and tell you about it.”</p> - -<p>It was impossible to keep him away; he had already crossed the gutter -with an agility of which I had not deemed him capable; and there he was -in the crowd, forcing his way to the front with hands and elbows. The -milliners did not lose sight of him. I too was anxious to witness the -effect that his silhouette produced upon him. Just as he reached the -wall and stood motionless in front of his likeness, unable to believe -his eyes, the little clerk, who was still among the crowd, espied him, -uttered an exclamation, and, overjoyed to be able to point him out to -the bystanders, called out to him:<a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a></p> - -<p>“That’s a picture of you, Monsieur Raymond; it looks just like you.”</p> - -<p>And all the young men repeated with him:</p> - -<p>“It’s Monsieur Raymond; he comes to my aunt’s!”</p> - -<p>My neighbor pulled his hat over his eyes, so that one could see nothing -but the tip of his nose; he tried to fly from the spot, and hurled -himself among the loungers, who took the keenest delight in barring his -path, bombarding him with jests and hootings. Raymond was beside -himself; he pushed so hard that he succeeded in breaking out a path; and -as he strode away, the laughter from the milliner’s shop completely -broke his heart. He went like the wind; but his hat was so far over his -eyes that he could not see where he was going, and he collided with a -blind man led by a dog which carried a bowl in its mouth. The shock -overturned the poor devil, who sat down on the sidewalk with an emphatic -oath; the dog, seeing its master fall, dropped its bowl and sprang at -Raymond; the blind man cried <i>thief</i>! because he heard his sous rolling -on the ground; and Raymond swore because the dog was snapping at his -legs. The crowd ran up to restore peace and put the beggar on his feet; -but no one dared to approach him, because he was laying about him with -his stick, thinking that he was belaboring the person who had thrown him -down; while Raymond struggled with the dog, which had taken his leg as a -substitute for the bowl and would not relax its grip.</p> - -<p>At last, the blind man was raised to his feet, and they succeeded in -replacing the bowl between the jaws of the faithful beast that had -fought so valiantly for its master. As it was necessary to compensate -the poor devil, who was rubbing his posteriors and demanding his money, -my<a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a> neighbor was compelled to put his hand in his pocket, while -everybody shouted at him:</p> - -<p>“Come, Monsieur Raymond, you must be generous; you shouldn’t rush -through the streets of Paris like a madman!”</p> - -<p>To escape the crowd, which was becoming larger every moment, Raymond -emptied his pockets; but the more he gave, the more the blind man -complained of his bruises.</p> - -<p>“These villains are never satisfied!” said my neighbor; “here’s twelve -francs for your posterior, and thirty sous for the money you lost; I -think that’s quite enough.”</p> - -<p>“You have hurt me,” said the blind man, shouting like a deaf person; “I -shan’t be able to walk for a week; you must make up to me what I shall -lose by that.”</p> - -<p>“Well, here’s twelve francs more.”</p> - -<p>“That’s not enough, bourgeois.”</p> - -<p>“What! that makes three francs a day, and still you’re not satisfied! -Your trade seems to be a good one!”</p> - -<p>“I’m a poor father of a family; I’ve got five children.”</p> - -<p>“Why doesn’t your wife lead you, instead of trusting you to a dog?”</p> - -<p>“My wife sings on Place Maubert, kind gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“And your children?”</p> - -<p>“My oldest, a boy, sings on Boulevard des Italiens; the second, a girl, -sings on Rue du Grand-Hurleur; the third, another girl, at Montparnasse; -the fourth, a boy, on the Champs-Élysées; and the youngest boy is just -beginning to sing on Rue du Petit-Lion. We all sing, kind gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“Well! you’re a good one to complain! People who sing from morning till -night, and won’t take three francs for a day’s receipts! I should like -to know if there’s a family in Paris better off than that!<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>”</p> - -<p>The crowd laughed at my neighbor’s reflections. The blind man, who was -inclined to be ugly, was threatened with having to go to exhibit his -bruises to the magistrate, who had a regular tariff for bruised -posteriors of all grades. As he had no desire to expose his hurts to the -authorities, fearing a considerable abatement of his claims, he went his -way with his dog, Raymond with an insult to nurse, and I with the -silhouette, which I had torn down and pocketed.</p> - -<p>The hour for me to meet Caroline had arrived. I took a cab and was -driven to a point behind the Château d’Eau. There I alighted, and -strolled along the boulevard, awaiting my young runaway. This time she -soon appeared, with several boxes in her hand. She smiled as soon as she -saw me; there was less restraint in her manner, more affection in her -glance, than I had seen before. Ah! I was sure now that I held sway in -her heart.</p> - -<p>I led her to the cab; we put the boxes in, then took our places side by -side. I told the cabman to urge his horses, for I was impatient to -arrive and enjoy her surprise. At last, after a rapid journey, during -which she had allowed me to hold her in my arms and to tell her again -and again that I would always love her, we reached Rue Caumartin and -drew up in front of her new abode.</p> - -<p>I opened the house door; I paid the cabman; Caroline gathered up her -boxes, and I took her hand to lead her upstairs; for it was dark and we -could hardly see. I was amazed that her hand did not tremble in mine. At -the moment of such a tremendous change in her position she was not at -all excited. She was a young woman of great strength of character—that -was clear.</p> - -<p>At last we were in her apartment; an old woman on the same landing gave -us a light, and Caroline was able<a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a> to examine her new quarters. She -looked about with rapture; I could see her joy gleaming in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Oh! how pretty it is! how pretty it is!” she kept saying, again and -again; and she sat down on the easy-chair, on the sofa, looked at -herself in the mirror, examined her curtains, her commode, her clock, -her table, her chairs. The bed was the only thing that she dared not -examine. Was it from modesty?</p> - -<p>“You are satisfied, then?” I said inquiringly, as I took her on my -knees.</p> - -<p>“Why, how could I help being? These rooms are charming; everything is so -elegant, and nothing is lacking; I shall be just like any <i>comme il -faut</i> woman.”</p> - -<p>“And you think you will be happy here?”</p> - -<p>“I feel already as if I could never go anywhere else.”</p> - -<p>“I am delighted to have succeeded so well; everything here is yours.”</p> - -<p>“Mine? really? You are too generous!”</p> - -<p>“And if you don’t love me, you are at liberty to refuse to see me; I do -not intend to put any price upon what I do.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! what an idea! if I didn’t love you, would I have consented to come -with you? would I accept anything from you?”</p> - -<p>I allowed her to say no more; a kiss closed her mouth. The doorbell rang -violently, and Caroline started up in alarm.</p> - -<p>“Who can that be?” she asked.</p> - -<p>I calmed her and opened the door.</p> - -<p>It was the man from the restaurant, with the supper I had ordered; that -sight restored Caroline’s gayety completely. We set the table; the -basket was unloaded, the dishes placed on the table, the waiter -dismissed. We<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a> were alone, on our own premises, our own masters. I was -not very hungry, but I was pleased to see that my companion did honor to -the repast. She partook of everything and declared that everything was -good.</p> - -<p>“At all events,” I said to myself, “she hasn’t begun to play the -<i>petite-maîtresse</i> yet; she doesn’t try to conceal her pleasure or her -appetite.”</p> - -<p>She admitted that she never had such a good supper at her aunt’s, and -that she loved good things to eat, sweetmeats, and muscat wine. -Thereupon I filled her glass with muscatel. I did not wish to make her -tipsy; but a little “point,” I thought, would banish the last traces of -ceremony that still held her gayety in check.</p> - -<p>Caroline was bright; her conversation abounded in sallies and -repartee—overabounded perhaps. I foresaw that she was likely to go far -and to become a leader in her class. I could understand that she must -have been bored to death on Rue des Rosiers; she secretly longed to -shine upon a greater stage, because she had a presentiment of the -triumph that awaited her. I determined to do my best not to encourage -her taste for luxury, fine dresses, and extravagance; for it would be -the devil’s own job to make her take a different road when she was -fairly started.</p> - -<p>But the clock struck eleven.</p> - -<p>“Already!” said Caroline; “how the time flies!”</p> - -<p>I was by her side, I held her in my arms, I rested my head on her -shoulder; silence had followed our bursts of merriment, but silence -expresses the emotion of the heart better than the noisy outbursts of -folly.</p> - -<p>“It is very late,” said Caroline, in an undertone.</p> - -<p>“Must I go?” I said; “aren’t you your own mistress now?<a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>”</p> - -<p>She lowered her eyes and made no reply; but did I need any other avowal -than that? She defended herself very feebly; and I was such an expert -lady’s-maid that in an instant she was in her night costume, if it may -be called a costume. To be sure, I tore and broke whatever came in my -way: strings, laces, and pins. Those were very trifling obstacles; -luckily, fashion does not decree that our ladies must be clad in -corselets of steel! but even so, love would find the defect in them. -There was one pleasanter obstacle which I desired to find; but I am -bound to confess that it did not exist. Ah! Mademoiselle Caroline, I -might have suspected as much! But what does it matter, after all? Was -she any less pretty on that account? No, to be sure; perhaps, indeed, it -was that that gave to her face that expression of coquettish malice -which fascinated me. But I could not help thinking that another man had -obtained much more than I without providing her with an apartment; -however, for my encouragement, I recalled the ballad:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The first step’s taken unreflecting.”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p class="nind">Not until the second does reflection take a hand; therefore, there is -much more glory in inducing the second step than the first; I tried to -persuade myself that that was so.</p> - -<p>At all events, I had no choice but to make the best of it, as there was -no remedy. If I had been her husband—why, then I should have done just -the same; for it is quite enough to be persuaded yourself that you are a -Georges Dandin; I see no need of proclaiming it from the housetops.</p> - -<p>So I kept all these reflections to myself; I bestowed upon Caroline -caresses which she returned with a vivacity and a force of sentiment of -which I should not have<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a> deemed her capable, and which I certainly -should not have found in an innocent; that was one source of -consolation. She swore that she would continue to love me, that she -would be happy with no one but me, that she did not want to see anybody -else, that she would always be faithful to me and had no desire to win -the love of any other man. I said about the same to her, and we fell -asleep with these touching oaths of love on our lips.</p> - -<p>When I awoke, it was broad daylight. Caroline was still asleep. It was -only six o’clock, so I did not wake her; she must have been fatigued. I -softly imprinted a kiss on lips which seemed to invite it even when -asleep, and I left that bed where I had found in my inamorata’s arms all -the delights of sensual pleasure, save only—but why think of that?</p> - -<p>I dressed without making any noise, for I wanted to go away without -waking her. I knew that very close companionship soon gives birth to -satiety; therefore, I proposed not to see her too often, so that when we -did meet we should enjoy ourselves more. Oh! I had had experience! When -it is not used with care, there is nothing that becomes exhausted so -quickly as love. And then, although Mademoiselle Caroline pleased me -immensely, I had no idea of living with her altogether. When I was fully -dressed, I glanced once more at my new friend, then crept from the room -and closed the door very softly.</p> - -<p>What a difference between Paris at six in the morning and the same Paris -at six in the evening. What perfect tranquillity reigned in that -quarter, which, a few hours later, would resound with the rumbling of -calèches and tilburys, with the trampling of brilliantly attired -equestrians, with the shouts of coachmen and footmen, with the uproar of -tradesmen and foot passengers! A few<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a> milkwomen alone gave life to the -picture. I walked toward the boulevards. How cool it was! what a -delicious hour for walking! I could not resist the desire to walk the -length of the boulevards before the dust and tumult of the day had -transformed them into the rendezvous of dandies and <i>petite-maîtresses</i>. -I felt, too, that the air I was breathing did me good, that it -tranquillized my mind; and I understood how one may at six in the -morning repent of what one did at six in the evening.</p> - -<p>But the shops began to open, the tradesmen took down their shutters, the -concierges were sweeping down their steps, blinds were being raised, -lazy folk were beginning to yawn and stretch their arms, working girls -came out to buy their ounce of coffee, old bachelors their roll, -maid-servants their beef stew, and old women their little pitcher of -cream. The messenger went to the wine shop for his glass of wine, and -the cabman for his glass of brandy, in order to begin the day aright! -The peasant women, who had already done half their day’s work, remounted -their donkeys and returned to the fields; and I left the boulevards and -went home.</p> - -<p>Three-fourths of the tenants were still asleep. It was only half-past -seven, and I met nobody but a few maid-servants. My neighbor was not -awake as yet, I sincerely hoped. Poor Raymond! after his adventure of -the preceding evening, I presumed that we must have a grand explanation. -He must inevitably be in a rage with me; for I credited him with -sufficient common sense to understand that the young women in the -milliner’s shop had deliberately made sport of him.</p> - -<p>On reaching my door, I found something attached to the knob. It was a -bouquet from Nicette, already a little withered; it had been there since -the evening before, no<a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a> doubt. The little flower girl did not forget me; -and I, who might have gone to say good-morning to her at six o’clock, -had not even thought of her. I very seldom passed her shop. And yet, -Nicette was well worth going out of one’s way to see; but for the last -few days I had been so engrossed that I had had no time to think of my -protégée; indeed, I had vowed not to think too much of her, and I -believed that I should do well to keep my vow—for her sake especially. -I wanted her to forget me, for I believed her to be very susceptible and -quite capable of becoming deeply attached to the man she should chance -to love.—“No,” I thought, “I will not go to see her; that is the wiser -course. She will end by forgetting me.”—But I had a feeling that I -should be very sorry if she did.</p> - -<p>I detached the bouquet and entered my rooms; they too reminded me of -Nicette and of the night we had passed together there. That night in no -wise resembled the night which had just gone, and which had been marked -by nothing that was abnormal in my experience. I had spent and expected -to spend many nights as pleasurable as the last. But those nights are -very rare when a girl of sixteen, emotional and attractive, succeeds, -while she beguiles us by her charms, in forcing us to respect her -innocence.</p> - -<p>I was not so happy as I should have been. Having become the possessor of -an adorable woman,—for Caroline was truly adorable, and she lost -nothing by being seen in a simple négligé,—what more could I desire? -Ah! I had been deceived so often, that I was justified in being fearful. -My new mistress was at least as coquettish as my previous ones had been, -and that fact was not very reassuring. But why torment myself in -anticipation?<a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a> Moreover, I had promised myself to be impassive and to -take things philosophically. Yes, I had made myself that promise, but I -had not succeeded in keeping it; perhaps with time and a little more -experience I might succeed. They say that one becomes wonted to -everything, but in my opinion it is very hard to become wonted to -anything that wounds our self-esteem.</p> - -<p>Someone knocked; it was Madame Dupont with a letter.</p> - -<p>“Give it to me, Madame Dupont.”</p> - -<p>My concierge had a most amusing way of doing even the simplest things -with an air of great importance and mystery. She handed me the paper, -accompanying it with a reverence which meant a great number of things. -Noticing that the letter was folded simply, not sealed, I concluded that -she knew its contents; and judging from her manner, they must be of -serious import.</p> - -<p>“Who gave you this, Madame Dupont?”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Raymond.”</p> - -<p>“My neighbor?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; and he told me to bring him your answer.”</p> - -<p>“Let us see what he has to say.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind">“M<small>ONSIEUR</small> D<small>ORSAN</small>:</p> - -<p>“We must have a serious explanation with regard to the dinner of -the day before yesterday. The matter cannot be settled elsewhere -than in the Bois de Boulogne, where I shall expect you to-day -between noon and one o’clock. I shall be alone; do you come alone. -I believe you to be too honorable a man to fail to be on hand. I -shall be near Porte Maillot.</p> - -<p class="r">“R<small>AYMOND</small>.”</p></div> - -<p>I laughed like a madman when I read this epistle. Madame Dupont, whom -Raymond doubtless had told that we were going to fight, seemed amazed at -my hilarity, and asked me what answer she should give him.</p> - -<p>“Go,” I said, “and assure my neighbor that I will be on hand promptly.”</p> - -<p>My concierge, proud of her ambassadorship in a matter of such moment, -made me the inevitable reverence and returned with my answer to Raymond, -who was probably waiting in her lodge, swaggering gallantly before the -gossips and housemaids, so that the whole household might know that he -had an affair of honor on hand. I confess that I did not expect such a -challenge from my neighbor. What weapons should I take? He did not -mention the subject, and I had an idea that none would be needed; -however, I concluded to put my pistols in my pocket. Who could say? -perhaps I had judged Raymond ill. Moreover, madmen have their lucid -moments, misers are sometimes extravagant, tyrants have paroxysms of -kindliness, coquettes moments of sincerity, rascals gleams of honesty; -and cowards, too, may have their days of valor.<a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII<br /><br /> -<small>MY DUEL WITH MY NEIGHBOR</small></h2> - -<p>I went to the rendezvous at the appointed hour. The weather was fine, -delightful for walking, and everybody was out of doors. I could not -avoid the reflection that my neighbor had selected for our duel an hour -when it was very hard not to be seen; I knew that he was very fond of -putting himself in evidence, but it seemed to me that that was not an -opportune occasion for so doing; he was evidently quite capable of -choosing his ground in front of a guardhouse. However, I concluded to be -patient and to await events before judging him.</p> - -<p>When I arrived at Porte Maillot I did not see Raymond. It was not yet -one o’clock, so I strolled about in the neighborhood. Little did I think -that morning that I should go to the Bois de Boulogne before night, and -alone. Caroline, I thought, must be surprised at my non-appearance. In -truth, it did imply rather a lack of warmth; and if she were exacting, -she would be justified in scolding me. But I knew a sure way to make -peace with her; it is easy enough to find a way when love still exists; -only in old liaisons, or between those who have been long married, do -quarrels destroy love, because in such cases the methods of -reconciliation are no longer the same.</p> - -<p>At half-past one, no one had appeared. Could it be that my neighbor had -deliberately sent me on a fool’s errand; I realized that he was likely -to require a vast<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a> deal of preparation before fighting a duel; but it -seemed to me that he had had plenty of time since eight o’clock in the -morning to make his little arrangements, and to go about to tell all his -acquaintances that he had an affair of honor on hand. Could he have gone -to warn the police? Such things had been done; but, no, it was he who -had sent the challenge; I was doing him an injustice. Poor Raymond! the -dinner episode was terrific, beyond question, and he must have been -terribly incensed at me, especially if he believed me to be the author -also of the ingenious trick of pasting his picture on the wall on Rue -Vivienne. But why that rhodomontade of sending me a challenge by the -concierge? if he had no intention of fighting, he should have come to -see me at my rooms; I would have confessed my faults, while laughing at -the affair, for I am not one of those men who refuse to atone for the -foolish pranks they have committed except by cutting the throats of the -persons they have offended. I consider that there is more glory in -avowing one’s fault frankly, and fighting afterward if the avowal does -not give satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Almost two o’clock! I lost my patience; I was tired of walking; -moreover, the weather had changed, and the sky was overcast; a storm -seemed impending, and I had no desire to await it in the woods. The -idlers had become fewer, the riders were digging their spurs into their -horses’ sides, the coachmen cracking their whips; everybody was hurrying -back to the city. I determined to go with the rest. But who were the -three men walking so fast toward the woods? I soon recognized the one -who marched so proudly at their head: it was Raymond. He had brought two -seconds, after telling me that he would come alone. But, no matter; -doubtless he would be<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a> obliging enough to let me have one of them. I -began to think that he had urged me not to bring one because he -preferred to choose one for me.</p> - -<p>As the three drew near, I recognized Raymond’s seconds: one was Vauvert -the melomaniac, the other Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche. Parbleu! -thought I, there is sport ahead! I had a strong suspicion that my -neighbor was preparing some trick he had conceived. What in the devil -had induced him to choose such seconds? Friquet only was lacking; I -should not have been surprised to find him standing guard a short -distance away, ready to summon the police at the first signal from his -uncle.</p> - -<p>All three were drenched with perspiration; and yet, they had had time -enough to make the trip. Apparently, they had postponed their decision -long enough to be sure of warming themselves up on the road. Raymond was -as red as a turkey cock, Vauvert pale as a bride, and the baron made -such fiendish grimaces that I could not tell just the color of his face. -They seemed more at ease when they saw that I was alone. I very much -regretted that I had not brought a second; I had an idea that by doing -so I should have disarranged Raymond’s plan.</p> - -<p>They saluted me as soon as they caught sight of me; I returned their -salutation, then went back into the woods I had just left.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going? Wait, wait!” cried Vauvert, stammering and hardly -able to speak at all, he was so excited. I pretended not to hear, and -went farther into the woods.</p> - -<p>Vauvert started to run after me; he overtook me and seized my hand, and -I felt that he was trembling like a rabbit.<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a></p> - -<p>“Where on earth are you going, my dear fellow? why do you go so far into -the woods? Don’t you see that we’re going to have a storm?”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that the affair that brings us here can hardly be -adjusted on the highroad; it would be as sensible to choose Boulevard -Saint-Denis for the battlefield.”</p> - -<p>“My friend, I hope that—at all events——”</p> - -<p>“As for the storm, that needn’t disturb us; on the contrary, it will -keep bystanders away.”</p> - -<p>While I was talking with Vauvert, I heard my neighbor shouting in the -distance:</p> - -<p>“No adjustment, Monsieur Vauvert, no adjustment! I don’t propose to -consent to any compromise; I am determined to fight!”</p> - -<p>“You hear him!” said Vauvert; “he’s crazy. Oh! he’s a terrible fellow -when he gets started. He has said everywhere that he proposed to have -your life, or that you should have his.”</p> - -<p>I could not help laughing at Raymond’s bluster; and I ventured to -reassure poor Vauvert, who did not know which way to turn, having never -been present at such a function. At last we were joined by my adversary -and the Baron de Witcheritche, the latter of whom wore a three-cornered -hat, eight inches high, cocked over his left ear, which gave him the -aspect of a bully from the Rue Coquenard.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur!” said Raymond, striding toward me with a warlike air, “I -wrote you that I should come alone, and that was my intention; but, as I -passed through the Palais-Royal, I met my friend Vauvert, who had come -out to buy a roll for his second breakfast, and who, when he learned -that I had an affair of honor with you, dropped everything to come with -me, and——<a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>”</p> - -<p>“That is to say,” interrupted Vauvert, “that you didn’t tell me that -that was what was up, and that I didn’t find it out till we got to the -barrier; for, when you saw me, you grabbed my arm and didn’t give me -time to pay for my newspaper.”</p> - -<p>Raymond pretended not to hear what Vauvert said, and continued:</p> - -<p>“So I yielded to his urgent entreaties. Besides, he is as much your -friend as mine, and his presence cannot be disagreeable to you. As for -Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche, we met him at the barrier, going out -to dine in the country with his good wife. I thought it better to have -two seconds than one, because then I could let you have one of them. -Monsieur de Witcheritche consented to leave madame la baronne, who is -waiting for him under the trees not far away. He will be my second then, -and Monsieur Vauvert yours, if agreeable to you.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur le baron, who had bowed every time that his name was mentioned, -took his place beside Raymond, and Vauvert stood behind me.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Raymond,” said I, “it seems to me that we might very well -settle this affair between ourselves, without troubling these gentlemen. -I am afraid that madame la baronne may get wet during our engagement, -and Vauvert would be better off at his desk than here.”</p> - -<p>“That is true enough,” said Vauvert, who asked nothing better than to go -away; “I have a great deal of work to do to-day, and I’m afraid I shall -be reproved by my deputy chief clerk.”</p> - -<p>“Matame la paronne, she haf ov te shtorm no fear; she loaf mooch to see -te lidening flashes,” said Monsieur de Witcheritche, smiling so -expansively that his mouth seemed to reach from ear to ear.<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a></p> - -<p>“Well, since these gentlemen have been good enough to come,” said I, -with a smile, “it must not be for nothing; so I accept Monsieur Vauvert -for my second.”</p> - -<p>Vauvert fell back with an air of dismay.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be alarmed,” I said to him; “seconds rarely fight; if, however, I -should fall, and you should choose to avenge me, it will be in your -power.”</p> - -<p>“I, my dear friend! I do not need to tell you how fond I am of you; and -certainly—I wish the affair might be settled amicably. Friends ought -not to fall out!—Monsieur de Witcheritche, we ought not to allow these -gentlemen to fight.”</p> - -<p>The baron seemed much more deeply interested in something that he had in -his pocket than in our combat, and to no purpose did Vauvert, with tears -in his eyes, strive frantically to make him understand that it was their -duty to reconcile Raymond and myself. But my neighbor was obstinate.</p> - -<p>“I intend to fight,” he said; “nobody shall insult me with impunity! I -have seen Monsieur Gerville, and I know that he did not dine with you -and Agathe; I need say no more! And my silhouette on the wall—that was -a betrayal of confidence! You must give me satisfaction, Monsieur -Dorsan; this affair will make a sensation.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! bless my soul, neighbor, I am at your service! Let us get through -with it, for it is going to rain, and I shall be distressed to have -these gentlemen get wet, and especially madame la baronne, who is under -the trees.”</p> - -<p>“I am the insulted party; I have the choice of weapons.”</p> - -<p>“That is true.”</p> - -<p>“I am very skilful with the sword; I have taken lessons from the most -expert teacher in Paris; but I will not fight<a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a> with anything but -pistols, because I don’t wish to make an unfair use of my advantages.”</p> - -<p>“That is very generous on your part; I divined your purpose and brought -some pistols along.”</p> - -<p>As I spoke, I took mine from my pocket; I saw that Raymond was disturbed -and changed color; then he produced a pair of great holster pistols and -showed them to me.</p> - -<p>“That’s all right,” said I; “each of us will have his own pistols.”</p> - -<p>“No, no! put yours back in your pocket; we must use mine. You understand -what an advantage I should have in using one of my pistols against one -of yours, which are two inches shorter.”</p> - -<p>“Your behavior is truly noble. Very well, since you insist upon it.”</p> - -<p>“I do, monsieur; besides, I have the choice of weapons, and I fight with -none but my own.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; let us call our friends to load them.”</p> - -<p>I turned to look for Vauvert, who, as soon as we produced our pistols, -had walked away in the direction of the highroad and could with -difficulty be induced to come near us.</p> - -<p>“The pistols are loaded,” said Raymond; “I always look after that in -advance.”</p> - -<p>“Ordinarily, my dear neighbor, that is the duty of the seconds.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! but I don’t trust anybody but myself with that. Besides, my friend -Witcheritche has examined them;—isn’t that so, monsieur le baron?”</p> - -<p>The baron was busily engaged in wrapping in two thicknesses of paper -some small Neufchâtel cheeses, which he seemed to fear would be -dissolved in his pocket<a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a> by the rain; so he replied to my adversary’s -question only by a smile of assent. Everything that I saw tended to -confirm my suspicions: Raymond’s valor was unnatural; his insistence -upon using his own pistols, the pains he had taken to load them at home, -certainly implied some trickery on his part, which I was determined. He -handed me his pistols and asked me to choose one.</p> - -<p>“How many paces apart shall we stand?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Why—about twenty-five.”</p> - -<p>“Great God!” cried Vauvert; “why, that’s point-blank range. Forty paces, -messieurs! that’s quite near enough when you’re hit!”</p> - -<p>“No; let’s call it thirty; that’s the most I can consent to.—Monsieur -de Witcheritche, come and measure the ground.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur le baron regretfully parted from his cheeses, which he laid on -the grass, taking care to put his hat over them, for the rain was -beginning to fall violently. He came toward us; I took my place, and he -measured thirty gigantic paces, so that I could hardly see Raymond. As -for my second, he was so afraid of being hit that he did not know where -to go. He urged us to be very careful not to aim at the wrong man, and I -reassured him. Monsieur de Witcheritche gave the signal by beating time, -as if we were to play a Haydn quartette.</p> - -<p>Raymond fired, and either the noise or downright terror felled Vauvert -to the ground, where he lay with his face buried in the grass. I was not -touched; I did not even hear the bullet whistle by my ears.</p> - -<p>I suggested to my neighbor that we let it go at that.</p> - -<p>“No, no, fire!” he cried.</p> - -<p>“He is ein Zazar!” exclaimed the baron, in his admiration of Raymond’s -courage.<a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a></p> - -<p>I was desirous to ascertain the truth. My second still lay at full -length on the ground; Monsieur de Witcheritche had thought it better to -retire to a considerable distance, behind a clump of trees; my adversary -turned his head aside, waiting for me to take aim, which I had no -purpose of doing, although convinced that his weapons were not -dangerous; but the baron’s cheeses were within two yards of me, and I -discharged my pistol at them. The explosion blew the three-cornered hat -away, and a multitude of scraps of paper adhered to the little -Neufchâtels. While I was laughing over the end of my duel, Raymond came -toward me with outstretched hand, shouting at a distance:</p> - -<p>“It’s all settled, my friend; I am satisfied, embrace me!”</p> - -<p>“What!” said I; “you don’t want another shot? I have pistols, too.”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear fellow, let’s forget it all; embrace me, I beg you.”</p> - -<p>“So be it; I will do whatever is agreeable to you.”</p> - -<p>While my neighbor threw himself into my arms, the baron ran to his -cheeses, and was like one turned to stone when he saw that they were all -speckled with bits of paper.</p> - -<p>“Mein jheese, tay shmell ov te bowder lige te teffel!” he said, putting -his nose to them.</p> - -<p>“A thousand pardons, monsieur le baron; but as I did not wish to fire at -my friend Raymond, I aimed in this direction; the bullet must have gone -through them.”</p> - -<p>Raymond flushed to his ears; my ironical manner led him to fear that I -had detected his little fraud; but I did not care to deprive him of the -pleasure of being able to say everywhere that he had fought a duel. I -ran to my<a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a> second, who was still on the ground, and urged him to rise; -he did not stir, and I saw that the poor devil had swooned during our -battle. I called Raymond to my assistance; he had a flask of strong -aromatic vinegar in his pocket, with which we inundated Vauvert’s face, -and he finally came to himself. After feeling himself all over and -making sure that he was not wounded, he tried to make us think that his -swoon was caused by his affection for us both. We thanked him and set -him on his legs; but we had to take an arm each to help him to walk; for -he was in no condition to stand erect without our support.</p> - -<p>Monsieur de Witcheritche put the remains of his cheeses in his pocket -handkerchief, and we left the wood. The rain continued, but my second -could not walk fast, so that we were compelled to endure it. Raymond was -in the highest spirits; he was overjoyed by his day’s experience. He -knew Vauvert, and he was sure that his duel would soon be the absorbing -topic of the whole company of amateur musicians, even if he himself -should not take pains to spread it everywhere.</p> - -<p>“You showed extraordinary courage, messieurs,” said Vauvert, as we -marched along; “such sang-froid! such calmness! that was true valor!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! yez! yez! tese two chentlemens pe fery prave.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! my neighbor Raymond’s not like other men; I am sure that he would -fight the same way ten times a day.”</p> - -<p>Raymond bowed, but said nothing. I fancied that he realized that I knew -how his pistols were loaded.</p> - -<p>At last, we spied madame la baronne seated under a large tree; her -husband ran to her and took her arm, and we walked toward the barrier.<a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a></p> - -<p>“I haf mooch abbetide,” said Madame de Witcheritche to her husband.</p> - -<p>“Ve vill tine soon, matame.”</p> - -<p>The couple bowed to us and quickened their pace. I presumed that they -were on the lookout for a restaurant; but I noticed that, all the way -from the barrier, two huge dogs had been following monsieur le baron, -who did all that he could to drive them away, but to no purpose.</p> - -<p>“Do those two dogs belong to Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche?” I asked -Vauvert.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think so; I never saw at his place anything but poodles.”</p> - -<p>“It’s strange,” said Raymond; “he must have something in his pocket that -attracts them.”</p> - -<p>I looked for a cab, but the rain had caused them all to be taken up. We -had lost sight of Monsieur de Witcheritche and his wife, when we heard -loud cries, and soon saw the two dogs running for their lives, one with -a bologna sausage, the other with a bit of salt pork in its mouth. The -baron and baroness came running after them, crying:</p> - -<p>“Shtop tief! shtop tief! Ach! te file peasts! tey haf shtole our -tinner!”</p> - -<p>Madame la baronne, being weaker than her husband, was obliged to stop, -and told us how the two dogs had succeeded in extracting from monsieur -le baron’s pocket the dinner she and her dear spouse, who had been a -long time arranging that little outing for her, expected to eat in the -country.</p> - -<p>While we were consoling the poor woman, Monsieur de Witcheritche, who -was not the man to abandon his sausage and his pork, kept on in pursuit -of the dogs, at<a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a> which he threw all the stones he could find on the -road. He had already wounded one and compelled it to slacken its pace. -Hoping to hit the other, which was just passing the barrier, he threw a -great stone at it with all his force. But the stone was ill-aimed, and, -instead of striking the dog, struck the customs clerk in the eye, as he -was looking up at the sky to see if the storm were passing away.</p> - -<p>The poor man fell, crying:</p> - -<p>“I am dead!”</p> - -<p>His comrades ran to him. One of the dogs, which was then passing the -city limits, ran among the clerks’ legs and made them stagger. The -second dog, trying to escape, was seized by monsieur le baron, who -thought of nothing but his dinner and pursued his course, unmindful of -anything else. He succeeded in catching the dog by the tail, and a -battle ensued between him and the animal, which refused to give up the -sausage. The soldiers from the neighboring post ran up in response to -the outcries of the clerks. The vehicles of all kinds passing in or out -were compelled to stop; the soldiers would allow no one to pass until -they had found out what the matter was. A crowd gathered to see what was -going on, and everyone put forward some conjecture.</p> - -<p>“It’s an important prisoner whom they arrested just as he was leaving -the city,” said one, “and it seems that he wounded the clerk who seized -him.”</p> - -<p>“No; they’ve just discovered some contraband goods in one of those -wagons; it was being smuggled in.”</p> - -<p>Amid the tumult, which was augmented by the barking of the dogs, the -baron shouted triumphantly:</p> - -<p>“I haf him! I haf him!” and he waved aloft the bologna sausage, which he -had snatched from his enemy’s jaws;<a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a> then, before the poor devil whose -eye he had put out had recovered consciousness, Monsieur de Witcheritche -slipped into the crowd and returned to his wife, leaving the clerks, -soldiers, and bystanders asking one another what it was all about. -Madame la baronne had recovered her husband, Vauvert was in a condition -to walk unaided, and Raymond began to play the dandy. I left the company -and took a cab to return to Paris.</p> - -<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII<br /><br /> -<small>A LITTLE DISSERTATION IN WHICH THERE IS NOTHING ENTERTAINING</small></h2> - -<p>When I arrived at Caroline’s it was after five o’clock; my duel and its -sequel had prolonged my absence, and she scolded me for going away -without waking her, and said that she had been vexed at my delay. I -would have preferred that she should have been bored, but I realized -that she had had no leisure for that; there are so many thousand things -to do in a new apartment, to say nothing of the indispensable purchases. -She showed me a very modish bonnet that she had bought, and tried it on -for me. It was a fascinating one; however, at twenty years, with a -pretty face and a graceful figure, a woman might wear a sugar loaf on -her head and she would still be good-looking. It seemed to me that I -liked her better in her little cap than in a bonnet; but I concluded -that I should get used to it.</p> - -<p>The rest of the costume must necessarily correspond with the bonnet; -that was in the regular order. I have<a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a> always wondered at the importance -which women attribute to all the gewgaws and trifles which are called -dress! at the amount of thought and calculation they waste upon the best -way of placing a flower or a ribbon! With what care they arrange a bit -of trimming, a bouquet, a curl! All this is sometimes the result of -several days’ meditation! But let us not charge it to them as a crime: -it is to seduce us that they array themselves; we should be very -ungrateful to criticise what they do to please us.</p> - -<p>Caroline had changed already; she wore her new garb with much ease of -manner; she was no longer the grisette of Rue des Rosiers, but the -<i>petite-maîtresse</i> of the Chaussée d’Antin. Women form themselves in -everything more rapidly than we do. Observe yonder villager: after three -months in the city, he is still awkward, loutish, and embarrassed. But -this little peasant girl left her home only a week ago, and already her -parents would not recognize her; ere long she will not recognize her -parents.</p> - -<p>A fortnight had passed since Caroline’s installation on Rue Caumartin. I -saw her every day; I dare not say that it was love that I felt for her; -certainly it was not a very impassioned love; but she still pleased me -as much as ever. I believed that she loved me more than at the beginning -of our liaison; at all events, she told me so.</p> - -<p>Things had not turned out precisely as I had arranged, for she had -ceased to go to her shop, and she could hardly be said to work in her -room; but, by way of compensation, she had acquired the manners of good -society, the tone of a lady, and the general aspect of an <i>élégante</i>. It -is true that I refused her nothing, although I frequently considered the -project of reducing my expenses. But how can you refuse anything to a -pretty woman who entreats you with a melting voice, and, while<a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a> -entreating you, looks at you in a certain way? As for myself, I confess -that I have never had the strength to resist. It has been my misfortune, -perhaps.</p> - -<p>I began to discover that what I called gewgaws formed a very important -item in the keeping of a woman. I ruined myself in trifles: every day it -was a dress, a neckerchief, a hat, or a shawl! I do not know how -Caroline went about it, but she invariably proved to me that it was the -fashion, and, therefore, that it was necessary; I am too just to refuse -a woman what is necessary. But my income was insufficient; I had -borrowed; I was running in debt. What in heaven’s name would happen if -she should take it into her head to want the superfluous!</p> - -<p>Every other day I found a bouquet at my door when I went home. My little -Nicette did not forget me, and I never went to see her; if I chanced to -pass her stand, I never thought of her being there and never glanced in -her direction! And yet, every time that I found a bouquet, I determined -that I would go to thank her; but Caroline gave me so much occupation -that I never had a free moment; every day there was some new pleasure -party; I never had the courage to refuse her; she knew a way to make me -approve all her plans. Her graceful ways charmed me, her wit fascinated -me, her merriment amused me; the hussy was so adroit in making the most -of all the gifts she had received from nature!</p> - -<p>One morning I received a note written in an unfamiliar hand. It was from -Madame de Marsan, who reproached me good-naturedly for not keeping the -promise I had made to attend her musical evenings, and invited me to a -small party she was giving at her country house. I had almost forgotten -Madame de Marsan, for I often forget a person who has set me on fire the -night before; a very<a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a> lucky thing for one who takes fire so easily; it -proves that the heart has no share in the nonsense we call love. I -determined to go to the party in question, for I did not propose that -Mademoiselle Caroline should make me lose sight of all my acquaintances; -I ought not to abandon good society because she could not go thither -with me. The girl had already led me into too much folly! And there was -my sister, whose letter I had not answered, and who expected me from day -to day! I was not at all content with myself. But the torrent bore me -on; I closed my eyes and let myself go.</p> - -<p>Someone entered my room: it was my neighbor, whom I had not seen since -the day of our famous duel. He had a shrewd suspicion that I was not -taken in by his false gallantry—I who had witnessed his abject terror -on the day of the <i>partie fine</i>. I knew that he had made a great noise -about his valor, prating of his duel to everybody he saw; but he had -avoided meeting me in company; my presence would have embarrassed him in -his narrative of our combat. I wondered what he wanted of me.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, my dear friend!” he began; “how goes the health this -morning?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I am inclined to think it goes too fast; I am going at a rapid -pace.”</p> - -<p>“You must be prudent, neighbor.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a good one to talk about prudence, Monsieur Raymond! What are -you doing with Agathe?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I don’t see her any more; that’s all over, we are parted forever! I -don’t propose ever to be caught by one of those little hussies again; -you spend an enormous amount of money, and sometimes you don’t make your -expenses. And they don’t know how to appreciate a man; they don’t know -the difference between a poet and<a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a> a gudgeon! So long as you have money -in your pocket, and can stuff them from morning till night with bonbons, -sweetmeats, ices, and syrups, and tell them they’re adorable, take them -to drive and to the theatre and to the country, and buy them all the -fal-lals they happen to want, oh! bless my soul, then they’re satisfied. -You may be as stupid as a goose, as coarse as a street porter, as -conceited as an Italian virtuoso, yet you’re none the less delightful in -the eyes of those girls.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a great deal of truth in what you say, neighbor; but, as a -general rule, it is adulation and flattery that spoil both men and -women; if we didn’t kneel at their feet, they wouldn’t look down on us -from such a height. Flatterers, courtiers, low-lived sycophants, creep -in everywhere and sometimes corrupt the most happily endowed nature. -Kings, unfortunately, are more encompassed than other men by this -servile swarm, which constantly hums in their ears a concert of -exaggerated and insipid praise; it is when men tremble that they stoop -lower than at any other time. Louis XI had more courtiers than Louis -XII, Charles IX more than Henri IV. Richelieu and Mazarin did not take a -step without being surrounded by a multitude of courtiers; they were -feared, people trembled before them, but humiliated themselves and -scribbled verses in their honor. Sully and Colbert had their admirers, -but they knew how to repel flattery; they were too great to surround -themselves with people whom they despised. If too frequent adulation did -not increase our vanity, if the familiar atmosphere of praise did not -give us too great confidence in our own deserts, how many shortcomings -would those heroes and great captains have escaped, who, under difficult -circumstances, have rejected the counsels of wisdom because they were -accustomed<a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a> only to the language of flattery, and deemed themselves -invincible because a thousand voices had declared that they were, and -because the man who has been exalted to the rank of a demigod does not -readily decide to take the advice of his creatures! The pernicious -effects of adulation date from a very early period: the serpent seduced -the first woman by flattery. Almost always by the same means have women -since then been seduced. Flattery destroyed Antiochus and -Nebuchadnezzar, Semiramis and Mary Stuart, Cinq-Mars, Monmouth, -Cleopatra, and Marion Delorme; Samson allowed his hair to be cut off -while listening to the compliments of Delilah; Holofernes lost his head -while listening to Judith’s soft voice; Charles XII of Sweden, blinded -by his victories, buried his army in the plains of Pultowa; the Maréchal -de Villeroi, relying always on luck, insisted on joining battle at -Ramillies. Excessive praise, by blinding us to our faults, causes us to -remain in the path of mediocrity, when nature has given us faculties -calculated to raise us above the vulgar; by tempting us to close our -ears to the harsh counsels of truth, it leads us to mistake self-esteem -for genius, vanity for merit, facility for talent. How many artists, -even when they seek advice, refuse to receive anything but compliments! -But they have been persuaded that all their works are masterpieces, that -no defect can be found in them! And people who have attained that end no -longer take the pains to study; everything that comes from their hands -must necessarily be perfect. But civility demands that we must not -always say what we think. Suppose a poet reads us some of his verses: if -they are bad, you must not tell him so unless you are his friend; for -you do not desire to be looked upon in society as an Alcestis, forever -growling about the vagaries<a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a> and absurdities of everyone else; that rôle -would raise up too many enemies to be endured, except on the stage. In -society, we choose to overlook one another’s failings rather than to set -ourselves up as censors; mutual intercourse is pleasanter thus, and we -find more pleasure in living for ourselves than in wasting our time -trying to correct other people. But although courtesy may compel us to -conceal what we think, it does not compel us to say what we do not -think; when I listen to the reading of execrable poetry, I will hold my -peace, but I won’t say that it is charming; nay, more, I will try to -summon courage to make some suggestions to the author. I can never make -up my mind to say that a portrait resembles its subject, when I think it -a wretched failure; I cannot tell a person that he sings true, when he -has just been torturing my ears. With nascent talents, above all, we -should be sparing of praise, even while we encourage them; flattery is -responsible for very many such coming to naught, because it arrests the -flight of a genius, which, deeming itself perfect already, no longer -cares to take the trouble to acquire what it lacks. Doubtless a father -is excusable for considering his son a prodigy of beauty, wit, and -talent; paternal love naturally misleads us; but let us at least keep -our conviction to ourselves; let us not force strangers to go into -ecstasies over the story of a mischievous trick, to listen in religious -silence to a fable often directly at variance with common sense, and to -gaze in admiration at a flat nose, turned-up chin, and inflamed eyes, -which can never delight any glance but a father’s. If there were fewer -flatterers, how many men, who are simply unendurable now because they -have been spoiled, would be ornaments of society! Let us reserve our -enthusiasm for those poets and artists whose talents exalt<a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a> them above -all praise. Doubtless the contemporaries of Molière and Voltaire -rendered to those sublime geniuses the homage they deserved; but one -does not display his admiration for such men by insipid compliments and -empty praise: great talents are proud of the applause of people of -taste; they despise the base fawning of which fools are so vain.</p> - -<p>“When Voltaire lived at Ferney, those travellers who, by virtue of their -rank or their merit, could hope to gain access to him, never failed, -even though they were obliged to go far out of their way, to visit the -philosopher’s retreat. Everyone was curious to see that extraordinary -man, who astounded the whole universe by his genius. Men of intellect -and of taste thought only of the pleasure that was in store for them; -but the fools—and they too were anxious to converse with Voltaire—gave -all their attention to the posture and expression they proposed to -assume at sight of the philosopher, the better to manifest their -admiration of him. Voltaire was affable with the former; but when a -lady, on catching sight of the great poet, deemed it advisable to shriek -and to swoon, the philosopher shrugged his shoulders and turned on his -heel.</p> - -<p>“Great geniuses are rare; great talents are affable and modest; they who -might have acquired great talents but have failed inhale with delight -the incense people are good enough to lavish on them. How can a young -man whose voice is rather pleasant and nothing more fail to consider -himself a Laïs or a Martin when people seem to be so infatuated with -him? They urge him, entreat him, implore him to sing; all the women are -in a flutter of excitement before hearing him; they belaud him to their -neighbors in anticipation. ‘Delicious!’ ‘Divine!’ ‘Charming!’ are the -only words that reach the ears of the<a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a> virtuoso, who condescends at last -to comply with the wishes of the assemblage, and, after all the -inevitable monkey tricks, sings just passably a ballad of which it is -well understood that he will not pronounce the words intelligibly; and -he has hardly finished before the concert of praise begins anew, while -the impartial auditor, who had been led to expect something very -different, asks himself if he can believe his ears. Look you, my dear -neighbor, I confess that I have never been able to persuade myself to -increase the crowd that hovers about these social prodigies, in whom I -find nothing except inordinate self-esteem; or to swell the number of -adorers of a woman of fashion, whose coquetry is carried to such a point -that I blush for her and for those who surround her. Unquestionably, I -am as fond of a pretty woman as any other man; I will be the first to do -homage to her charms; but does that necessitate my exalting her to the -skies at all times and seasons, and overwhelming her with compliments -which, even if they are not extravagant, must none the less be tiresome -to the person to whom they are addressed? Must it be that she cannot -take a step without my praising her dress, her figure, her gait, her -foot, her grace? Can she not smile without my going into ecstasies over -her teeth, her mouth, and the expression of her eyes? Can she not utter -a word without my extolling her wit, her shrewdness, her tact, her -penetration, and the sweet tones of her voice? I may think it all, but I -won’t say it; I should be afraid of bringing a blush to her cheek. I -know that I am considered far from gallant; that may injure me with some -ladies, but I have neither the power nor the desire to change. If -everybody did as I do, perhaps we should see less self-conceit and -arrogance in men, less coquetry and caprice in women; they would take -more<a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a> trouble to be affable and agreeable, and everybody would be the -gainer.—What do you think about it, neighbor?”</p> - -<p>I saw that Raymond was not listening; he was examining the bunches of -orange blossoms that adorned my mantel, and seemed to be puzzled by the -old bouquets which I had collected on my commode, after taking out the -flowers that would not live.</p> - -<p>“You seem to be very fond of orange blossoms?” he said at last.</p> - -<p>“Very.”</p> - -<p>“They have a very pleasant odor.—You must have twenty bunches of them -here.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t counted them.—But will you do me the favor to tell me what -brings you to my rooms this morning? for I presume that you came for -some purpose.”</p> - -<p>“True; I forgot it while looking at these bouquets. I have received an -invitation from Madame de Marsan for a party she is giving at her -country house the day after to-morrow; I suppose you are going, and I -came to suggest that we go together.”</p> - -<p>“With pleasure; you know the way and you can be my guide.”</p> - -<p>“With the greatest pleasure. By the way, how shall we go?”</p> - -<p>“We will hire a cabriolet, and keep it, so that we can return when we -choose.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the idea. I thought at first of going in the saddle—I am very -fond of riding; I have a very fine seat.”</p> - -<p>“I have no doubt of your grace as a horseman; but we can’t go to a party -at Madame de Marsan’s in top-boots, so we won’t go in the saddle.”</p> - -<p>“True; I will undertake to provide a nice cabriolet; I know a liveryman. -At what time shall we start?<a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>”</p> - -<p>“At seven o’clock; we shall arrive at eight, which is the proper hour in -the country.”</p> - -<p>“That’s settled, then. I fancy we shall have some fun; I know the whole -party, so I can tell you who’s who.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you had been only twice to Madame de Marsan’s.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that doesn’t make any difference! once is enough for me to know -everybody; I have a certain amount of tact, of penetration—it’s all a -matter of habit. In case they should want to give a theatrical -performance, I have an opera that I have just finished; I’ll read it to -you on the road.”</p> - -<p>“That will give me great pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“I must take a look over it. Until Thursday, neighbor!”</p> - -<p>“Until Thursday!”</p> - -<p>Raymond left me, and I went to see Caroline. I found her at the window. -For several days past she had spent much time there, especially when she -was alone. Doubtless it was so that she could watch for my coming. It -seemed to me that she was gayer, more amiable, more fascinating, than -usual; pleasure gleamed in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Ah! she loves me,” I thought; “she loves me truly; she is grateful, she -has a feeling heart; she is coquettish only to please me. Before forming -a lasting attachment, she wanted to find someone worthy of her love; her -heart chose me, and I am sure that she will be true to me. I knew that, -with a little patience, I should find such a woman.<a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX<br /><br /> -<small>THE TRIP TO THE COUNTRY</small></h2> - -<p>The day came when I was to go to Madame de Marsan’s. I had told Caroline -that she would not see me that evening, and she had seemed greatly -disappointed, although we had had a little dispute the night before -concerning a certain cashmere shawl, which I saw that she ardently -coveted, and which I did not propose to give her. I had given her to -understand, in fact, that she did not need a cashmere shawl to be -charming; that she was more attractive to me in a simple and refined -costume; and we had parted on the most friendly terms.</p> - -<p>The clock struck seven; my toilet was completed. The concierge came to -inform me that the cabriolet had arrived and was waiting in the -courtyard. When it suited Raymond’s convenience, we might start; but -what in the deuce was he still doing in his room? I concluded to -investigate.</p> - -<p>I found my neighbor just putting on his breeches.</p> - -<p>“What, Monsieur Raymond! haven’t you got any further than that?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’ll be ready in a moment, I assure you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet that you won’t be ready in half an hour.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! you’ll see how quick I am! While you are waiting, amuse yourself -by looking over my little water colors—my sketches; there are some very -good little things there, as you’ll see. If I had more time to myself, -I’d go into oils and exhibit at the Salon, but I am never at liberty.<a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I advise you to stick to water colors; yours are quite remarkable.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t they? There’s true burlesque, originality for you; the Calot -sort of thing. Do you notice that <i>Suzanna at the Bath</i>?”</p> - -<p>“I thought it was a <i>Temptation of Saint Anthony</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that’s because it isn’t finished. And that little -<i>Hop-o’-my-Thumb</i>—what do you say to that?”</p> - -<p>“I thought it was <i>Bluebeard</i>.”</p> - -<p>“That’s because he has on his seven-league boots.”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, neighbor! You haven’t got into your breeches yet!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! they’re a delicate part of the costume, you know.”</p> - -<p>“But nothing but long trousers are worn now, even at balls.”</p> - -<p>“When a fellow has, as I have, a fine leg and a calf fit for a model, he -isn’t sorry to show them.—Would you like to read my last verses, on the -Marquise Désormeaux’s favorite dog?”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks, much obliged!”</p> - -<p>“They have made quite a sensation. All the ladies are saying, in a -joking way, that they must have me to write their husbands’ epitaphs. -The beginning is rather fine:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“‘O dog of nature, faithful animal!’”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>“I’ve heard of a man of nature; but I confess that this is the first -time I ever knew the epithet to be applied to a beast. So you think, my -dear Raymond, that animals may be moral perverts, do you?”</p> - -<p>“What’s that! why, don’t you see it every day? Look at the poor -creatures that have to dance and bow and caper and jump through rings to -the notes of the flageolet!<a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a> They have received an education. The -marchioness’s dog did everything she wanted him to; he snapped at -everybody who went near his mistress, and he jumped on the table during -dinner to eat out of the plates and dishes. That’s the natural instinct, -and I maintain that ‘dog of nature’ is a very happy expression.”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, Monsieur Raymond; drop your <i>dog</i> and finish dressing. If -you spend so much time over every part of your costume, we shall not -arrive before midnight.”</p> - -<p>“I am at your service. I have got on my boots and breeches; but it seems -to me there’s a crease on the left-hand side behind.”</p> - -<p>“When you have your coat on, nobody will see it.”</p> - -<p>“True; but in walking or dancing, the coat tails spread.”</p> - -<p>“Well! what does this crease amount to? do you think that the company is -going to keep its eye on your rump?”</p> - -<p>“I tell you, a crease may make a great difference in a man’s looks; -women notice everything.”</p> - -<p>“The woman who takes any notice of such things must have her hands full -at a large party!”</p> - -<p>“It sets better now. Ah! my cravat.”</p> - -<p>“That will be a long job.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! I have made a study of that article of dress, and it goes all -alone now. There! that’s it. Ought I to turn the ends up or down?”</p> - -<p>“Turn them either way you choose; but try to make up your mind.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll pull ’em out straight. What do you think of that knot?”</p> - -<p>“Beautiful! you are stunning!<a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>”</p> - -<p>“<i>Stunning</i> is too strong a word; but I think that I look rather well; -I’ve just got three pins to put in.”</p> - -<p>“Great God! we shan’t get started at eight o’clock!”</p> - -<p>“The devil! this is terribly embarrassing; I ought to have thought about -it sooner.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter? have you another engagement?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know whether I ought to put this turquoise above or below my -emerald.”</p> - -<p>“Morbleu! Monsieur Raymond, my patience is exhausted; I am going to -start without you.”</p> - -<p>“Here I am! here I am, neighbor! Faith! I have put the turquoise above, -no matter what happens.”</p> - -<p>“That’s very fortunate.”</p> - -<p>“Now, the coat—the hat—the gloves—and I’m all ready, you see.”</p> - -<p>“Amazing! Let’s be off.”</p> - -<p>“All right. Oh! I beg your pardon: I forgot a scented handkerchief.”</p> - -<p>We left the room at last. When Raymond had closed his door, he -discovered that he had not put his diamond ring on his little finger, so -he went back to repair that omission. We went downstairs; but on the -second landing, he failed to find his opera in his pocket, and went back -for that. When we arrived in the courtyard, he remembered that he had -not brought his favorite songs; and as he might be asked to sing, I must -wait while he went to fetch them. I registered a vow never to travel -again with Monsieur Raymond. At last, about a quarter past eight, we -entered the cabriolet; then he discovered that he had not his eyeglass; -but I was inexorable: I lashed the horse and we started. It was dark, so -that Raymond could not read me his opera; but to make up to me for the -deprivation, he proposed to tell me the plot. For<a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a> more than an hour he -prosed away about a Spanish princess and an Arabian prince, her lover, -while I thought of Madame de Marsan, whom I was not at all sorry to see -again, and whom I was surprised that I had neglected so long. When we -reached Saint-Denis it was half-past nine; and I swore at Raymond, whose -dilatoriness and absurd affectations would make us arrive at Madame de -Marsan’s unconscionably late.</p> - -<p>“Have we much farther to go?” I asked my neighbor, as we left -Saint-Denis behind.</p> - -<p>“Why, no; about three-fourths of a league only.—I was saying that my -princess, having been rescued from the burning palace, swoons at the end -of the second act.——”</p> - -<p>“You know the way, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; drive on, I’ll show you.—When the curtain rises for the -third act, the princess is in her lover’s camp, lying on a cannon.——”</p> - -<p>“Have you been to this country house before?”</p> - -<p>“Once; but that’s enough for me; I have such an accurate memory!—The -soldiers are resting on their pikes—or their muskets, for I am not -quite sure whether pikes were in use under King Ferdinand; but it makes -no difference. The prince, having no desire to sleep——”</p> - -<p>“I should say that we were told to go to the left.”</p> - -<p>“No, no! straight ahead!—The prince, I say, is on his knees before the -princess, who is still unconscious; and he sings her a superb air, -<i>adagio</i> in <i>D</i> minor, to restore her.—I wrote the music, too. Can’t -you see the tableau in your mind’s eye?”</p> - -<p>“I see that if you don’t drop your <i>prince</i> and <i>princess</i> soon, we -shall be in Montmorency, and that certainly isn’t on our road. I’m too -good-natured, to sit here and<a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a> listen to your nonsense. Here—as you are -so certain we’re on the right road, just take the reins and drive.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I ask nothing better; I’ll stake my head that we’re not two hundred -yards from Madame de Marsan’s.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t see any light.”</p> - -<p>“Because it’s too dark a night.—This infernal horse has a mouth like -iron.”</p> - -<p>“You worry him too much.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I see something.—Where are we, my man?”</p> - -<p>“Montmorency, monsieur,” replied our groom.</p> - -<p>“Well! Monsieur Raymond, you want to see everything; you’re a very -clever man!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be angry, my dear Dorsan; we’ll take this road to the left; I -remember now that it leads straight to Madame de Marsan’s.”</p> - -<p>“I think we should do as well to return to Paris; it looks like a -storm.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the odds? then they’ll have the party in the house.”</p> - -<p>“The party! Parbleu! we may be there by eleven o’clock!”</p> - -<p>“We shall be there at ten; I must whip this infernal beast.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I am beginning to be resigned; I am going to make the best of it.”</p> - -<p>“They are longing for us to come, I am sure!—Go on, you villain, go -on!”</p> - -<p>“Say rather that they have forgotten all about us.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! men like us aren’t so easily forgotten.—Go on, you wretched nag!”</p> - -<p>“Look out! you’re whipping him too hard; he’s running away now.<a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! that’s so; he’s got the bit in his teeth!”</p> - -<p>“Hold him in! jerk the reins!”</p> - -<p>“I can’t hold him, my friend; I am pulling as hard as I can. Mon Dieu! -he’s turning into the fields; we are lost!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! don’t be frightened; he’ll stop.—Get down, boy, and see if you can -stop him.”</p> - -<p>Our groom had already alighted, but he did not follow us, which made me -think that he was hurt. Our steed galloped on, across fields and plowed -lands and lanes. I took the reins from my companion, who was no longer -in a condition to see anything, but trembled in every limb and shouted -for help at the top of his voice. To put the finishing touch to our -misfortunes, the storm broke with great violence: the clouds burst, the -rain fell in torrents, and the wind blew with hurricane force in our -faces. Our horse did not stop; I began to apprehend some serious -accident; we were on a very steep hillside, and I expected every moment -to be overturned with the carriage. Luckily, our frantic animal’s path -was blocked by a mass of vines; he stopped short, but in struggling to -extricate himself from the labyrinth of branches in which he was -entangled he plunged about with such violence that he finally threw us -out and fell with us.</p> - -<p>“I am dead!” cried Raymond, as he fell. Before making sure of that fact, -I tried to cut my way out of my prison, for the front of the cabriolet -was blocked by vine poles. I succeeded at last in getting out. I was not -hurt, not even a bruise. I thought myself very lucky to escape with -nothing worse than a fright. Since it was written that I should not -attend Madame de Marsan’s entertainment, I made the best of it and -decided to endure as philosophically as possible the further -misadventures into which Raymond was sure to lead me. I went to<a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a> inquire -into my companion’s condition. He was groaning pitifully; was he really -hurt? If so, that would make our plight decidedly serious. I walked up -to Raymond, who had fallen half out of the cabriolet, with his face -against the ground. I shook his arm, and succeeded, not without -difficulty, in making him raise his head. The rain had already formed -pools, and the plowed earth had stuck to Raymond’s face. He told me in a -feeble voice that he could hardly see.</p> - -<p>“That’s nothing; turn your face toward the sky, and I’ll answer for it -that the rain will very soon wash off the mud that covers your eyes.”</p> - -<p>“You are right, my dear friend; I am well washed now, and I begin to see -more distinctly. Ah! I breathe again!”</p> - -<p>“Are you really hurt?”</p> - -<p>“Wait till I feel myself; I’m sore all over, but I believe that I -haven’t any serious wound.”</p> - -<p>“That’s very fortunate!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! my friend! what a terrible accident!”</p> - -<p>“Whose fault is it?”</p> - -<p>“Look you—I lashed the horse, because you were in a hurry to get -there.”</p> - -<p>“I advise you to put your crazy performances on my back!”</p> - -<p>“Here we are in a pretty plight! and the rain coming down in sheets! It -seems as if everything was in a conspiracy against us. Look! I even -smashed my hat when I fell.”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! what do I care for your hat!”</p> - -<p>“Look you, perhaps you care for my head, which is entirely unprotected. -I am wet through, covered with mud, battered and crushed. What a cold I -shall have!<a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a> And my clothes! It was well worth while to dress! Open-work -stockings; and see, there’s my shirt frill on that pole. Mon Dieu! it -wouldn’t take much to knock me over!”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, Raymond! damnation! be a man! You’re worse than a baby. We -must get out of this somehow.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s our groom?”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid the poor devil hurt himself when he jumped down, and I -should be very much at a loss to know where to look for him.”</p> - -<p>“If we could raise the carriage!”</p> - -<p>“But one wheel came off when it went over.”</p> - -<p>“The devil himself took a hand in the job.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid the horse has hurt himself on these poles.—This pleasure -party is like to cost us dear, neighbor.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you’re very lucky to be able to take it so calmly! For my part, I -am crushed and furious at the same time!”</p> - -<p>“Come with me; let’s try to find a house, some place of shelter at -least; but let us notice carefully what direction we take. Are you -coming?”</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute, till I make a cap of my handkerchief, to protect me a -little.”</p> - -<p>We left the vineyard. I was obliged to take Raymond by the arm to get -him to move along; he was trembling so that he was afraid of falling at -every step. We walked for some ten minutes, constantly floundering in -holes filled with water, which it was too dark for us to see. I swore -and Raymond whined, anticipating an attack of pneumonia. At last we -discovered a little cottage, and the light that shone through the -windows indicated that the occupants were not in bed; for peasants are -not in the habit of keeping candles lighted while they are asleep.<a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a></p> - -<p>“We are saved!” cried Raymond; and he recovered the use of his legs to -run toward the house. But I held him back, fearing that he would -announce our presence in such a way as to prevent our being admitted. I -myself knocked at the door of the cottage.</p> - -<p>Peasants are rarely distrustful; the occupants of the cottage, being -very poor, had no fear of thieves. They opened the door, and I saw a -peasant woman in a large living room, surrounded by half a dozen -children. I explained our mishap, while Raymond, who had already entered -the room, peered into a great kettle to see what the peasants had for -supper, then came back to me and informed me that we shouldn’t find much -of anything in that house.</p> - -<p>“What can I do for you, messieurs?” said the peasant, as she watched -Raymond prying into every corner.</p> - -<p>“Are we far from Montmorency?”</p> - -<p>“No; a fourth of a league at most.”</p> - -<p>“We don’t know the roads about here; be good enough to let us have your -biggest boy for a guide; we will pay you.”</p> - -<p>As I spoke, I gave the woman three francs, which instantly disposed her -to make herself useful to us.</p> - -<p>“That’s easy enough,” she said; “Julien, go with these gentlemen.—If -you’re tired, I can let you have some donkeys.”</p> - -<p>“We shall be very glad of them, for, first of all, we must find our -groom, who must be somewhere in the neighborhood; and then we will try -to rescue our horse, for he ought not to pass the night in the fields.”</p> - -<p>“Come, Julien, get the donkeys out of the stable.—I ought to tell you -that there’s no saddles for ’em.”</p> - -<p>“No matter; they will be very useful to us all the same.<a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>”</p> - -<p>The donkeys were produced, and I paid on the spot for their hire; I took -a third one, for our groom, whom I hoped to find. Raymond hesitated a -long while before mounting his beast; he wanted saddle, stirrups, and -pads; he claimed to be able to ride like Franconi, but he could not sit -on a donkey. Tired to death by all his lamentations, I started off with -the young peasant, who rode the third donkey, and set out to find the -groom. Raymond, seeing that I had ceased to listen to him, decided to -follow me, clinging with one hand to the tail and with the other to the -mane of his steed. He urged the poor beast along in my wake, and we were -in the fields once more.</p> - -<p>I let my donkey take his own course. I called the groom at the top of my -lungs, and my companions did the same. At last someone answered us; we -rode in the direction of the voice and found our young man lying on the -ground, under a tree. The poor devil had sprained his foot and could not -walk. I put him on the peasant’s donkey. It only remained for us to -unharness our horse, whom we found on the ground beside the cabriolet. -The rain had allayed the poor beast’s ardor, and he finally allowed us -to raise him to his feet. Our guide assured us that he was uninjured; he -mounted him, took his place at our head, and the cavalcade set out for -Montmorency.</p> - -<p>All these details had taken time. It was after half-past eleven when we -left our little carriage, which I commended to the young peasant’s care; -he promised to fetch a blacksmith to mend it at daybreak. We could have -gone much faster but for Raymond; he compelled us to stop every few -yards; his donkey refused to go, or else insisted on turning into -another road; and he uttered heartrending cries when we did not wait for -him. Luckily,<a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a> the rain had ceased and it was a little less dark, so -that we could see where we were going.</p> - -<p>At midnight we caught sight of the first houses in Montmorency. Raymond -gave a joyful cry, whereat his donkey was frightened and jumped, -throwing its rider off into a muddy path, where he lost his shoes. As we -were a little ahead, Raymond was obliged to pick himself up unassisted; -the fear of losing us lent him strength, but his steed did not wait for -him, and he ended his journey running after the beast, which he caught -on the square just as we were dismounting. All the people of the inn had -gone to bed, but we knocked until they answered. They were surprised -that travellers should arrive so late; they would be far more surprised, -I thought, when they saw the condition we were in, especially Raymond, -whose last fall had plastered him with mud from head to foot. They -admitted us, however, but, as I had foreseen, they were taken aback by -our appearance. But I soon succeeded in telling my story. The landlord, -seeing that he had to do with people of standing, apologized to us and -hastened to show us to our rooms. They gave a room to our groom; the -horse was taken to the stable, and the peasant went home with his -donkeys.</p> - -<p>I ordered a brisk fire made, to dry our clothes, and requested the host -to serve whatever he had ready, for our misadventures had not taken away -our appetites. We were served with a chicken, ham, salad, and fruit. -While I took my place at the table, Raymond went into his bedroom, where -he ordered another fire lighted, and asked the girl who waited on us to -come to rub his back, so that he might avoid an illness. She was a -robust peasant of some twenty years, not of the type to be afraid of a -man. Still, Raymond’s proposition struck her as rather<a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a> peculiar; she -looked at him with a smile and seemed to hesitate.</p> - -<p>“Go with him,” I said to her, “and don’t be afraid; monsieur is thinking -of nothing but his health, and I’ll answer for his behavior.”</p> - -<p>While my companion was being rubbed, I did justice to the supper, and -dried myself thoroughly in front of the fire. The bedroom door was not -closed, and I could hear Raymond urging the servant on and complimenting -her on her skill. The buxom damsel must have been tired, she had rubbed -him so long, but Raymond seemed to enjoy it. Soon I concluded that the -fire and the servant’s ministrations had entirely restored my friend’s -animation, for he began to be enterprising, and I heard the girl exclaim -that she would not stand it. And I had answered for his behavior! How -can you trust anyone?</p> - -<p>But the noise continued in the adjoining room; and at last the girl fled -into the room where I was, roaring with laughter, and pursued by -Monsieur Raymond in shirt and drawers and a pair of the innkeeper’s -slippers.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you keep quiet the rest of the night, Monsieur Raymond? Am I to -have no peace with you?” said I.</p> - -<p>“Oh! what eyes, my friend! Ah! the hussy, if she would!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but the trouble is I won’t, Monsieur Insolent!”</p> - -<p>“Come, Raymond, let the girl go to bed; it’s late and this is no time to -rouse the whole inn. I’ve no desire to get into any more trouble for -your lovely eyes.—Leave us, my girl! we don’t want anything more.”</p> - -<p>“I say, my dear, where’s your room; do tell me where it is?”</p> - -<p>“What business is it of yours?<a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Tell me, all the same, you sly minx, and you won’t be sorry.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I sleep upstairs, at the end of the hall.”</p> - -<p>“Good; I understand.”</p> - -<p>The servant left us, and Raymond sat down at the table.</p> - -<p>“I trust,” said I, “that you don’t propose to run after that girl? She’s -fooling you.”</p> - -<p>“No, no! I was joking, that’s all. She’s as solid as a rock!”</p> - -<p>“She ought to know whether you are or not, for she rubbed you long -enough.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed; the hussy knows!”</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t seem to have disposed her in your favor.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! didn’t she tell me where her room was?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you trust her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’ve no desire to go after her, as you can imagine; but, one thing -is sure, and that is, that if I chose, I should have everything my own -way.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe it.”</p> - -<p>“Do you want to bet?”</p> - -<p>“No; because you would indulge in some pleasant little performance which -would make my night as agreeable as my evening has been; and I confess -that I’ve had enough of that sort of thing for to-day. Good-night, -Monsieur Raymond! I am going to bed, and I advise you to do the same.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, neighbor, yes, I’ll do the same. Sleep well. Your servant!”</p> - -<p>Raymond took his candle with an offended air and went to his room, -locking the door behind him. I laughed at the crazy fellow’s pretensions -and folly, and got into bed, where I soon fell asleep. A noise, the -nature of<a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a> which I could not determine, soon woke me. I listened, and -called to Raymond, to find out if he were ill; he did not answer, and I -heard nothing more, so I went to sleep again. I did not wake until eight -o’clock; the sun was shining brightly into my room, indicating a lovely -day. As I was at Montmorency, although against my will, I would at all -events enjoy the delightful walks in the neighborhood and have a taste -of the pleasures of the country before returning to Paris. Our cabriolet -could not be repaired as yet, and we should have to wait for it.</p> - -<p>While I was dressing, I called to Raymond and asked him if he wanted to -take a walk before breakfast. He did not answer; apparently he was still -asleep. But his door was ajar, and I seemed to remember that he had -closed it the night before. I entered, and called him again:</p> - -<p>“Come, come, lazybones! it’s late; wake up!”</p> - -<p>No answer. I looked at his bed: he was not there. So he had risen -earlier than I and gone out before me. I was turning away, when I saw -Raymond’s coat, waistcoat, and breeches spread out on chairs, where he -had put them to dry. What! he had gone out without coat or breeches? -that was very strange! Thereupon, I remembered my neighbor’s schemes, -his dallying with the servant, and the wager he proposed when he was -eating his supper. My uncertainty was at an end: Monsieur Raymond had -set out to prove to me that he was not to be resisted; he had gone to -lie with the stout damsel who had wiped him and rubbed him so -thoroughly. But inn servants do not stay in bed until eight o’clock; the -girl must have been up long before. Why had Raymond not returned to his -bed? Did he want the whole household to know where he had passed the -night? I did not see the point of that very clearly; however, I -determined to<a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a> ascertain the fact. I called and rang; the same servant -appeared; her aspect was unchanged; she had a smile on her lips, her big -eyes were wide open, and her manner alert and determined. She had -anything but a bashful air; I supposed that she was probably accustomed -to nocturnal visits. I looked at her and laughed.</p> - -<p>“Did you call, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my child.”</p> - -<p>“What can I do for you?”</p> - -<p>“How is our groom?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! he’s all right, monsieur; they’ve put a compress on his foot.”</p> - -<p>“And the carriage?”</p> - -<p>“That don’t amount to much—only a matter of a couple of hours. But the -man who owns the vineyard where you upset followed after the blacksmith; -he wants his pay for the damage you did on his land; he says you pulled -up more’n a dozen vines.”</p> - -<p>“Good! we have got to pay him because we nearly killed ourselves on his -poles; let him have a hundred sous.—By the way, my lass, tell me now -what you’ve done with my friend?”</p> - -<p>“With your friend?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; the gentleman who came with me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! the man that lost his shoes, and that I had to rub so long!”</p> - -<p>“Exactly.”</p> - -<p>“Pardi! I haven’t done anything with him, and I wouldn’t have anything -to do with him, although he was after me like a thirsty dog! Mon Dieu! -what a fellow!”</p> - -<p>“It’s no use to pretend, my dear; he slept with you; I don’t see any -harm in that, but where in the devil is he now?<a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What’s that you say? he slept with me? Bless my soul! that’s a good -one! It’s a lie, d’ye hear! I don’t sleep with anybody that don’t suit -me, and your big baby didn’t suit me at all. Has he got the face to say -that? Ah! I’d tear his eyes out if I heard him!”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that when you tell him where your room is, you shouldn’t -make so much noise because of what I’ve said to you.”</p> - -<p>“My room! I told him where my room was! Good Lord! do you mean to tell -me—— Ha! ha! ha!”</p> - -<p>The servant, who had turned purple with wrath, suddenly began to roar -with laughter. I waited a long while for that outburst of merriment to -cease; the buxom creature held her sides, and was obliged to sit down -before she could speak. She recovered herself at last.</p> - -<p>“Let me tell you, monsieur, that the door I mentioned to your friend -ain’t the door to my room at all, but it leads into a big room like a -loft, where there’s a lot of sun and it’s always dry as a bone; that’s -why the master picked it out to keep the fruits he’s going to preserve, -such as pears and apples and grapes; and then provisions, such as bacon -and ham and sausages!”</p> - -<p>“Whatever you choose; but I suppose he keeps the room locked?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; but, for all that, he swore that things kept being -stolen; and for the last few days, I don’t know whether it’s to catch -the thieves or not, but I’ve noticed that the door was only latched.”</p> - -<p>“And that is where you sent my companion?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see what he can have been doing there all night. But he must be -somewhere. Come, my girl, take me to your storeroom.<a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go and get the master, because we ain’t allowed to go there.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care for the prohibition; I must find my companion, who can’t -have gone to visit the Hermitage or to walk in the valley, in his shirt -and drawers.”</p> - -<p>“That’s so; it ain’t the custom.”</p> - -<p>Paying no heed to the servant, who went to tell her master, I left my -room, ascended the stairs, and walked through a long corridor, at the -end of which I saw a door. It was at some distance from the inhabited -portion of the house; and I could understand that Raymond might easily -have called without making himself heard. But why had he remained there? -That is what I was determined to know. I pushed the door, which was not -locked, and saw Raymond with one leg in a trap, sitting upon a pile of -hams, where he had fallen asleep.</p> - -<p>My arrival made him open his eyes. He held out his arms with an -expression which I cannot describe.</p> - -<p>“Ah! my friend! my savior! set me free, I implore you!”</p> - -<p>“What in the devil are you doing here?”</p> - -<p>“I am caught like a rat in a trap, as you see; I can’t budge. I’ve been -here since one o’clock this morning; I shouted and called, but no one -came, and I had to make the best of it. When I found that no one heard -me, I sat down on the first thing I could find, and at last I fell -asleep; but I ache in every limb. I shan’t forget Montmorency!”</p> - -<p>I was sorely tempted to laugh, but Raymond’s long face aroused my pity. -I was trying to release him from the trap, but to no purpose, when our -host arrived with the servant. At sight of the latter, my poor companion -made a horrible face, while the girl laughed till she cried.<a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a></p> - -<p>“Aha! morgué! so I have caught my thief!” said the landlord, as soon as -he caught sight of Raymond; but when he came nearer, he was greatly -surprised to recognize the guest to whom he had lent his slippers. -Raymond told a not improbable story of a trifling indisposition which -surprised him in the night and compelled him to seek a certain place -which he thought was upstairs; and in that way he had fallen into the -trap set in the storeroom.</p> - -<p>Our host apologized profusely. He alone knew the secret of the trap, and -he hastened to release my companion. Raymond went to his room to dress; -but he was in a savage humor and did not care to inspect the outskirts -of Montmorency. He was afraid that the night he had passed on the hams, -in his shirt, would give him the rheumatism, and he longed for the -moment when we might start for Paris. I might have joked my neighbor on -the hard luck that pursued him in his <i>bonnes fortunes</i>, but I was -considerate and held my peace. I left him to rub his own shoulders, -legs, and posteriors; and, after breakfasting, sallied forth alone to -visit those delightful spots which Grétry and Jean-Jacques still adorn; -for men of genius never wholly die. I will not describe scenes with -which the reader is as familiar as myself; I should teach him nothing, -and if I should make any blunders they would be detected; but if some -day I visit a distant and desert country, if I see some Gothic château -or some chapel tumbling to decay, I promise you a glowing description of -it; for then I shall be able to say whatever comes into my head, without -fear of contradiction.</p> - -<p>Let us return to Raymond. He waited impatiently for my return from my -walk. The cabriolet was mended, the horse harnessed, and we were at -liberty to start. I helped in my two invalids, for Raymond was little -better<a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a> off than the groom; he could hardly move. I took my seat between -them, and, after paying the innkeeper’s account, which included the -slippers in which my companion returned to Paris, we started for the -capital, where we arrived without accident, because I did not allow -Monsieur Raymond to take the reins. On reaching our abode, we dismissed -the cabriolet and gave the groom something by way of compensation for -his sprained foot, which would keep him in the house a few days. I paid -everything and presented to my companion a statement of our expenses -overnight, as follows:</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border:none;font-size:.9em;"> -<tr><td> </td><td align="right"><i>F.</i></td><td align="right"><i>C.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>For the cabriolet, which we kept one day longer than we intended</td><td align="right">30</td><td align="right">00</td></tr> -<tr><td>For the peasant woman and her son, who acted as our guide and helped us to pick up our horse</td><td align="right">6</td><td align="right">00</td></tr> -<tr><td>For the hire of three donkeys at midnight</td><td align="right">9</td><td align="right">00</td></tr> -<tr><td>For repairing the cabriolet</td><td align="right">12</td><td align="right">00</td></tr> -<tr><td>For injury to vines</td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">00</td></tr> -<tr><td>For accommodation at the inn, lodging, supper, and breakfast</td><td align="right">28</td><td align="right">00</td></tr> -<tr><td>For slippers for Monsieur Raymond</td><td align="right">2</td><td align="right">50</td></tr> -<tr><td>For the servant who rubbed Monsieur Raymond</td><td align="right">3</td><td align="right">00</td></tr> -<tr><td>For fire on two hearths, a most unusual thing in inns</td><td align="right">2</td><td align="right">00</td></tr> -<tr><td>For the groom, who sprained his foot trying to stop our horse</td><td align="right">20</td><td align="right">00</td></tr> -<tr><td align="center">Total</td><td align="right" -style="border-top:1px solid black;">117</td><td align="right" -style="border-top:1px solid black;">50</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>On examining the items of expense of our pleasure party, to which he -might have added his costume, which was almost completely ruined, from -the hat to the shoes, Raymond heaved a profound sigh, and he was rather -long about taking from his purse the fifty-eight francs seventy-five -centimes that he owed me. Our account being adjusted at last, we betook -ourselves to our respective apartments.<a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX<br /><br /> -<small>SUSPICIONS OF THE MIND.—APPREHENSIONS OF THE HEART</small></h2> - -<p>Thanks to my neighbor, I had not availed myself of Madame de Marsan’s -courteous invitation; but I proposed to go soon to make my excuses to -her, and I would be careful to go alone; it seemed to me that that would -be preferable in every way.</p> - -<p>Doubtless Caroline was awaiting me impatiently; I must make haste to put -an end to her anxiety. I had promised to return during the night; but -unforeseen events—— It was after two o’clock in the afternoon, when I -hastened to Rue Caumartin.</p> - -<p>This time she was not at her window; but could I expect her to give -herself a twist in the neck in order to see me a moment sooner? No! I -was too sensible to demand that. I went upstairs and rang—no answer. -She had gone out! She had probably got tired of waiting for me, and had -gone out for a walk, perhaps to make some new purchases. There was -nothing for me to do but to go away and return; but I concluded to ring -once more. I did so, to no purpose. I went downstairs in an ill humor, -because I was annoyed; nothing annoys one more than a postponed -pleasure. I had no right to be angry because she had gone out; still, it -seemed to me that she might have waited for me. I walked away, -scratching my ear; indeed, I believe that I scratched my head. Was it a -presentiment? Alas! I had never yet<a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a> found a faithful woman! But I had -vowed not to distress myself beforehand; that never does any good. I -determined to do my best not to distress myself afterward either! I -should be more certain of being happy.</p> - -<p>As I turned into the boulevard, I saw her. What a costume for a morning -walk! She caught sight of me and seemed embarrassed. She came toward me, -however. We both smiled, but I believe that neither of us felt any -inclination that way; it is so easy to distinguish a forced smile!</p> - -<p>“Ah! here you are at last!”</p> - -<p>“Yes: does that surprise you?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t expect you so late.”</p> - -<p>“I quite believe that you didn’t expect me.”</p> - -<p>“Have you just come from my rooms?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; and you?”</p> - -<p>“I have been for a little walk.”</p> - -<p>“What a dress!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see anything uncommon about it.”</p> - -<p>“Not in comparison with the one you wore on Rue des Rosiers?”</p> - -<p>“You always have something unkind to say!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see what there is unkind in what I said.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you’d have me go out in cap and apron!”</p> - -<p>“They wouldn’t be unbecoming to you.”</p> - -<p>“But I have no desire to wear them.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I believe you!”</p> - -<p>“To hear you, anyone would think that before you knew me I was a stupid, -awkward country girl!”</p> - -<p>“I am well aware that you were not an innocent maid.”</p> - -<p>“Are we going to stay here on the boulevard all night? I am going home; -are you coming with me?<a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>”</p> - -<p>I hesitated; but I went with her. When we were in her apartment, -Caroline joked me about my severe air. In truth, what right had I to -reproach her? I was far from amiable sometimes, I knew; and a man who -scolds and grumbles is seldom loved. True; but a man who is loved never -appears to scold; he is always right. I kissed Caroline, and peace was -made. We dined together, and I took her to the theatre; but although I -did my best to amuse her, she did not seem to enjoy herself very much. -She appeared to be distraught, preoccupied; I was almost tempted to find -fault with her, but I restrained myself, for she would have said that I -was always complaining! But if she had been as she used to be, I should -have had no cause to complain. Ah! I say again, when a man ceases to be -lovable, it means that he is no longer loved.</p> - -<p>It was near midnight when I went home. A secret hope led me to grasp the -knob hurriedly. No bouquet! and yet it was the day! Could Nicette have -forgotten me? That would have caused me a pang, a very sharp pang. But -what childish nonsense! How could I expect her to bring me flowers all -the year round, when I did not condescend to go to her to bid her -good-morning? In the depths of my heart, however, I was not indifferent -to those tokens of her remembrance of me; I was touched by them, much -more, perhaps, than I supposed; I realized it from the grief that I felt -at her neglect; I had become so accustomed to that homage! It seemed to -me that it was my due. Why should I conceal it? I flattered myself that -Nicette loved me; I believed her to be capable of constancy; and while I -did not choose to abuse her love, I was not at all sorry to inspire it. -I determined to investigate her conduct; I determined to see her, to -speak to her. I would rise the next morning at six and prowl about the<a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a> -little flower girl’s booth. What strange mortals we are! For a whole -month I had neglected Nicette; and because I thought that she had -forgotten me, I was consumed by a longing to see her again, to know what -she was doing and what her sentiments were! Was it love, self-esteem, -jealousy, vanity, or simple curiosity on my part? Call it what you -please, it was as I have described it.</p> - -<p>As for Caroline, I determined not to torment myself any more about her; -she was either faithful or unfaithful; in the first case, I was wrong to -suspect her; in the second, she deserved neither my love nor my regrets. -That is a very fine dilemma which I propose to all jealous lovers, -present and future. But they will reply that when a man is able to talk -sensibly he is not in love. To that I have nothing to say, for I am -inclined to think that it is true.</p> - -<p>I was up at six o’clock. At that hour I was quite certain not to meet -any acquaintances before whom I should blush to be seen speaking to a -street peddler. I soon reached the place where Nicette was accustomed to -display her wares. But I saw nothing; could it be that I was too early? -had she moved to another quarter? I accosted a messenger whose stand was -a few feet away; those fellows know everything.</p> - -<p>“My friend, wasn’t there a flower girl who used to stand in front of -this house?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; she was here up to a week ago.”</p> - -<p>“And she no longer stands here?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! she isn’t very far off. Thirty yards or so farther along you’ll see -a little shop; that’s where she is now.”</p> - -<p>“A shop, do you say?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; it isn’t very big, but it’s well arranged, all the -same.<a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a>”</p> - -<p>I turned to walk away—but perhaps that man could tell me something. -Nicette had a shop; what was I to conclude from that? I trembled to -think! Had some other man been more fortunate than I? had she listened -to some other man? and did another possess that treasure which I might -have obtained and which it had cost me such a struggle to respect?</p> - -<p>I returned to the messenger, put some money in his hand, and began to -question him.</p> - -<p>“Do you know this flower girl?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, I know her—not very well, though, for she’s a bit -proud; she don’t talk much to anybody but her customers; and even then -you mustn’t say too much, or she’ll send you about your business. Oh! -she’s a good girl, I tell you! She’s virtuous, and the virtuous ones are -always noticed.”</p> - -<p>The man’s praise of Nicette caused me the keenest delight; I should have -been sorry to learn that I could no longer esteem her.</p> - -<p>“You say that she’s virtuous, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; we messengers know what’s what; and then, I see -everything that goes on. It isn’t that Mamzelle Nicette lacks lovers. -Oh! pardi! the whole quarter, if she chose! she’s so pretty! and she has -a fine lot of customers. It’s hardly six weeks since she set up on this -street; but the young men soon spied her, and there’s a whole mob of -dandies that come to buy flowers, just to make love to her, you -understand. But Mamzelle Nicette don’t sell anything but bouquets. I -must do her that justice. She won’t listen to the swells any more than -the footmen; and when some sly fellow orders flowers of her, to have her -bring them to him, he gets caught, for she just sends them by the -wigmaker’s little girl.<a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a>”</p> - -<p>I walked away, overjoyed by all that I had learned; in two bounds I was -in front of Nicette’s shop. She was already arranging her jars of -flowers on boards placed outside, in the street. When she saw me, she -gave a cry of surprise, dropped the carnations she had in her hand, -blushed scarlet, and could hardly stammer:</p> - -<p>“What! is it you, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>I smiled at her astonishment and entered her shop, where I seated myself -on a stool and looked at her.—How pretty she was! Joy made her even -prettier, and glistened in the look with which she met mine.</p> - -<p>“Is it really you, Monsieur Dorsan, you, in my shop? Ah! I didn’t expect -such a pleasure! I had stopped hoping for it!”</p> - -<p>“Why so, Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“Why—it is so long!”</p> - -<p>“That is true. But I have things to do which make it impossible——”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I believe you, monsieur. Besides, aren’t you your own master? and -how can you give a thought to a girl who sells flowers?”</p> - -<p>There was something so touching in the way she spoke, that I was deeply -moved. How could I ever have forgotten such charm, such innocence, such -susceptibility? I could not understand it.</p> - -<p>She was still standing in front of me; I took her hand, and I believe -that I was actually on the point of drawing her down on my knees. She -made no resistance; she glanced anxiously about, but had not the -strength to go away from me. What imprudence! what was I doing? We were -in full sight of passers-by, and someone might come in at any minute. -She had nothing but her reputation, and I was about to besmirch it!<a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a> -Poor child! she would sacrifice it to me, in her dread of displeasing -me.</p> - -<p>I dropped her hand and moved away from her, looking toward the street. -She understood me, and thanked me with her eyes.</p> - -<p>“So you were able to hire a shop, Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; I’ve made a lot since I’ve been in this quarter. I am -economical and spend very little; I am sure that I can get along all -right. I don’t think I did wrong, did I?”</p> - -<p>“No; I know that you are behaving as well as possible.”</p> - -<p>“You know it?”</p> - -<p>“I have never doubted it. Your bouquets have shown me, moreover, what a -grateful heart you have.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! can I ever forget what you did for me?”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you made any acquaintances on this street?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; I don’t want to make any.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you bored, being all alone?”</p> - -<p>“How can I be bored? I always have something to think about?”</p> - -<p>“What do you do in the evening?”</p> - -<p>“I read, and I am learning to write.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know how to write?”</p> - -<p>“A little; before long I shall know how to write well, I hope. There’s -an old gentleman who gives me lessons sometimes.”</p> - -<p>“What need is there of your knowing any more than you do?”</p> - -<p>“That’s true, monsieur; if you don’t want me to, I won’t learn any -more.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I don’t say that. Study, Nicette, since you enjoy it; you weren’t -born to sell flowers. But take my advice,<a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a> and don’t try to rise above -the condition in which fate has placed you; it rarely succeeds.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’m not trying to do anything of the sort, monsieur; I’d just like -to be not quite so stupid as I used to be.”</p> - -<p>“My dear girl, you may be ignorant, but you can’t be stupid; you will -always be charming; your natural wit does not need the resources of -education to attract esteem, any more than your charms need the help of -art to win admiration. Ah! Nicette, be always as you are now, as I first -saw you! Do not change!”</p> - -<p>She listened to me in silence; her sweet glance approved all that I -said; we understood each other so well! But impatient customers were -already beginning to look at her flowers; I felt that I must go. I said -adieu, but I continued to stand in front of her. It was impossible to -take a kiss, I realized that; she divined my thought, and we both -sighed. To part so coldly! Ah! if we had been in my room! I was certain -that I had but to say the word, and she would come; but I refrained from -saying it, for she would have been lost. I pressed her hand and fled. I -felt that I must fly from her, in order not to adore her.<a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI<br /><br /> -<small>CONFIDENCE</small></h2> - -<p>As a fortunate change in our destiny reconciles us to life, as a lucky -throw of the dice brings us nearer to wealth, as a noble deed reconciles -the misanthrope to mankind, as the acceptance of a play calms the wrath -of an author, as a bottle of old wine makes the drunkard forget his -pledges, as a sunbeam causes the traces of the storm to disappear, so -the sight of a pretty woman makes us forget our virtuous resolutions, -her love banishes from our hearts the memory of our last mistress’s -perfidy, and her virtues reconcile us to women in general, whom we take -a vow to shun whenever we are deceived, and whom we do not shun, because -it is not in nature to do it.</p> - -<p>Thus the sight of Nicette always led me to esteem her more highly. I -reproached myself for sometimes speaking ill of a sex which contains -models of sensibility, refinement, and sweetness, and which often -redeems a weakness by a hundred estimable qualities. The result in this -instance was that I thought I had done wrong to suspect Caroline, that -nothing in her conduct ought to arouse my jealousy, and that, by -reproaches and unfounded distrust, we often embitter a heart that we -might have made ours forever.</p> - -<p>I even went so far as to say to myself that it was my own fault that I -had been deceived so often, and that I had invariably done the opposite -of what one should do to retain a woman’s love. We go very far with the<a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a> -syllogisms that we propound to ourselves. At the rate at which I was -going on, I might have ended by satisfying myself that the infidelities -of our female friends are simply the consequences of our behavior toward -them, when I happened to pass Tortoni’s just as Raymond went in with a -man of some sixty years, with an awkward figure, and an inane, -disagreeable face, who was obliged to use a cane to support his left -leg, but whose costume denoted wealth and his manner a remnant of -dandyism.</p> - -<p>I was not at all anxious to sit down with them, despite Raymond’s -entreaties; he exclaimed at once that we must breakfast together. I -pretended not to hear him, and took my place in a corner, at some -distance from Raymond, of whom I had fought shy since our trip to -Montmorency. But, as I drank my chocolate, I noticed that the -conversation of the two gentlemen was very animated. I was convinced -that the gouty old fellow was telling his friend about some amorous -affairs, which he took pains to vaunt in the highest terms so that he -might still pose as a gay young rake. Would he not do better, I thought, -to attend to his infirmities? He rose at last, and I supposed that -Raymond would go with him; but, no: he remained behind and joined me at -my table.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, my friend! Well! have we recovered from the fatigue of -travel?”</p> - -<p>“You are the one to answer that question. Thank heaven! I didn’t sleep -on a pile of hams, with my leg caught like a plump lark!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! the sly hussy! I admit that I looked a good deal like a sparrow; -but I don’t feel it now, I rubbed myself so hard yesterday! I used up -two bottles of cosmetic for the skin, and three phials of Ceylon oil; -so<a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a> that I have recovered all my elasticity this morning. Tell me, do -you know that man who was with me just now?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“That was Monsieur de Grandmaison.”</p> - -<p>“I never heard of him.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a very rich man, enormously rich!”</p> - -<p>“He’s enormously ugly!”</p> - -<p>“He’s an ex-financier, contractor, promoter.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I understand.”</p> - -<p>“He gives delightful balls.”</p> - -<p>“Not for himself, surely.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! he’s still quite a rake.”</p> - -<p>“He doesn’t look it.”</p> - -<p>“Because he drags his leg a little; but that doesn’t prevent his making -conquests.”</p> - -<p>“From buying them, you mean.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I mean; but it all comes to the same thing. Between -ourselves, I admit that he didn’t invent gunpowder, and that his -education is confined to the rules of subtraction and multiplication, -which he understands perfectly. But still, for all that, he has the -prettiest women in Paris.”</p> - -<p>“That doesn’t speak well for the prettiest women in Paris.”</p> - -<p>“He was telling me just now of a new intrigue he is on the point of -consummating. Ha! ha! it’s most amusing! She’s a ravishing young beauty, -and he is going to steal her from a young man.”</p> - -<p>“Some kept woman.”</p> - -<p>“It seems that the little one is worth her price, and that she hangs -back; and then, too, the young man, who is jealous no doubt, keeps her -very close. For all that, they’ve seen each other—at the window, in the -first place;<a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a> then, letters and propositions. Grandmaison, who knows how -to manage such affairs, talked about cashmere shawls and diamonds! The -little one’s a coquette, and it seems that her young lover keeps her on -a bourgeois footing. The poor fellow will soon be plundered.”</p> - -<p>I had a feeling of uneasiness, which as yet I dared not analyze; -Raymond’s story, to which I had listened mechanically, interested me -deeply at last; the words <i>window</i>, <i>cashmere shawls</i>, and <i>diamonds</i> -aroused vague suspicions in my mind, which I blushed to harbor when I -recalled Monsieur de Grandmaison’s age and appearance. My self-esteem -refused to admit that such a rival could be preferred to me; but a -secret voice told me that self-esteem often deceives us. I determined to -ascertain the truth, and I proceeded to ask Raymond certain questions, -which, I was sure, would prove to me that I was wrong to torment myself.</p> - -<p>“Where does this Monsieur de Grandmaison live?”</p> - -<p>“Rue Caumartin, in a magnificent house that he owns; it’s just at the -end of the street, near the boulevard.”</p> - -<p>I felt a shudder run through my whole body, my gorge rose, a weight -descended on my breast—all in a second, and as the result of a mere -word. I continued my questions, however, affecting the utmost -tranquillity.</p> - -<p>“And this young beauty?”</p> - -<p>“Lives just opposite him, in a small house where there’s no concierge, -on the second floor front. Grandmaison saw her first at her window; it’s -a broad street, but he has an excellent glass that he had made to watch -the ballets at the Opéra. It’s a little telescope; it brings everything -right under your eyes, and you can imagine how pleasant it is, while a -dancer is making a pirouette, to fasten it on——<a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Well, go on: this young woman?”</p> - -<p>“As I was saying, he assured himself with his glass that she was young, -pretty, well built, and not faded. Oh! his glass is invaluable for -that!”</p> - -<p>“But the lover?”</p> - -<p>“The lover doesn’t live with her. He goes very often to see her; but he -doesn’t sit at the window, naturally; so that Grandmaison has only -caught a glimpse of him, for she is careful to leave the window as soon -as the young man arrives.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Well, everything is going as smoothly as possible. Grandmaison took the -little one to a closed box at the Opéra night before last, the lover -being in the country.”</p> - -<p>At that point, I could no longer control myself, and, entirely -unconscious of what I was doing, I struck the table between my neighbor -and myself such a violent blow that the cup of chocolate bounded up into -his face as he leaned over the table to speak to me. The bulk of the -liquid deluged Raymond’s waistcoat and shirt frill. He jumped back, -startled by the gesture that had escaped me. Ashamed of having allowed -my trouble, my wrath, my frenzy, to appear, I tried to recover myself; I -composed my features and apologized. Raymond, uncertain whether he could -safely approach me, asked for a glass of water to clean his face.</p> - -<p>“Pardon! a thousand pardons! my dear Raymond, I don’t know what caught -me then.—You were saying that, the day before yesterday——”</p> - -<p>“You gave me a terrible fright. Are you subject to nervous spasms?”</p> - -<p>“No, no! it was mere absent-mindedness.—You were saying——<a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a>”</p> - -<p>“The devil! you ought to look after that. Thanks to you, I have got to -go home to change my waistcoat and shirt.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that’s nothing.—So, the night before last he took the young woman -to a closed box at the Opéra, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes.—Is there any more on my face?”</p> - -<p>“None at all; you look splendid. Go on.”</p> - -<p>This compliment restored Raymond’s good humor; he tucked his frill out -of sight and resumed the conversation.</p> - -<p>“Yes, they were there, in a box——”</p> - -<p>“So, it’s all over, is it?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! not yet. The beauty hangs back, you understand, and Grandmaison -isn’t the man to push matters so fast—with his bad leg, he needs all -the conveniences. Oh! if it had been one of us two, that would have been -the end; we are sad rascals, you know!”</p> - -<p>“But since then?”</p> - -<p>“He saw the little one again yesterday morning, outside the walls. He -promised to give her a magnificent cashmere shawl, genuine Turkish, -to-night, if she’d take supper with him at his house; moreover, a -complete apartment, a lady’s-maid, a carriage at her service, and a -hundred louis a month, to say nothing of presents, if she would agree to -stay.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“She has accepted.”</p> - -<p>“She has accepted!”</p> - -<p>I sprang to my feet so suddenly that Raymond recoiled and looked at me -uneasily.</p> - -<p>“Did it take you again, neighbor?”</p> - -<p>“No, nothing’s the matter. Let us go out and get a breath of air.<a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a>”</p> - -<p>And I took Raymond’s arm and led him away. He followed me, making a wry -face. Doubtless I pinched his arm without noticing it, for he begged me -to let it alone; but I did not hear him.</p> - -<p>“My dear Dorsan, your muscles keep contracting; let my arm alone, -please.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! these women! these women! But why do I feel this weight at my -heart? for I do not love her.”</p> - -<p>“Let me go, my friend, I entreat you!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it’s because it is cruel to be constantly deceived in this way! to -be fooled again and again! and for whom, I ask you?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you ask me, but let me go; you hurt me; I shall be -obliged to call for help.”</p> - -<p>“But is it really she, after all? I must confound her.—Raymond!”</p> - -<p>I turned toward my companion, and not until then did I notice his -piteous expression and terrified eyes; I released his arm, and, becoming -a little calmer, asked him what the matter was.</p> - -<p>“The matter! Faith! you seem to have attacks of brain fever; you squeeze -my arm so that you make me yell, and you utter exclamations that I don’t -understand.”</p> - -<p>“I was thinking about something that I’ll tell you of later. But let us -go back to this intrigue of your friend: it interests me very much. -Monsieur de Grandmaison sups to-night with his new conquest?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to-night.”</p> - -<p>“I am very curious to see this woman who you say is so pretty.”</p> - -<p>“Faith! so am I, for I don’t know her any more than you do, and I am -looking forward to seeing her.”</p> - -<p>“What! you are to see her?<a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Certainly; I am invited to the supper, with five or six agreeable -roués, intimate friends of Grandmaison. As he is naturally a little -stupid, when he has told a woman that he’d like—you understand—he -can’t think of anything else to say to her to amuse her; and as he -desires to be sparing of his pleasures, because he’s not so robust as -you and I are, he reserves his ardor for the night; he always invites a -number of friends to supper, in order to put his charmer in the right -mood.”</p> - -<p>“A most excellent device, and very pleasant for his guests!”</p> - -<p>“You must understand that we always get something out of it. These -women, when they have a large stock of susceptibility, are never -satisfied with Grandmaison, who’s an invalid!”</p> - -<p>“I understand: you are his friend and deputy.”</p> - -<p>“I am whatever anyone wants me to be! Oh! we have great sport at these -little supper parties! we laugh like lunatics! The food is delicious and -the wines exquisite! no constraint, no ceremony; we joke and sing and -drink; and the jests, the puns, the remarks with a double meaning, the -spicy anecdotes, the smutty couplets! There’s a rolling fire of them; -everybody talks at once, and nobody hears what the others say; it’s -delicious!”</p> - -<p>“You make me regret that I am not one of you.”</p> - -<p>“Would you like to be, my dear fellow? Parbleu! if you would, I will -venture to introduce you.”</p> - -<p>“Really! could you do it?”</p> - -<p>“I can do anything I choose! you know very well that everything succeeds -that I undertake.”</p> - -<p>“I had forgotten that. But this Monsieur de Grandmaison doesn’t know -me.<a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What difference does that make? I know you, and that’s enough! -Introduced by Raymond, you will be welcome.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think that I might venture?”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course! So long as a man is hilarious and tells amusing -stories, he’s sure of being well received at Grandmaison’s; that’s why -he’s so fond of me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! if it’s only a matter of providing amusement, I promise you some -for this evening.”</p> - -<p>“You’re our man; it’s agreed, then. Meet me at the Café Anglais at ten -o’clock; that’s the hour of meeting.”</p> - -<p>“I will be there, I give you my word.”</p> - -<p>“But if you will accept my advice, you’ll take a little orange-flower -water to calm your nerves.”</p> - -<p>“Never fear! I shan’t have another attack.”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, then, until ten o’clock to-night!”</p> - -<p>Raymond left me, and I reflected long upon all that I had learned. The -woman was Caroline; I could not doubt it; and yet a feeble ray of hope -still gleamed in the depths of my heart. I determined to go to her, but -to conceal my feelings, and to try, if possible, to read her heart, to -detect her treachery in her eyes. But, above all, I would be sensible, -philosophical, and try to penetrate myself with the truth of these two -lines:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Let dandies rage, let fools cry lack-a-day;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The wise man, cozened, silent goes away.”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p><a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII<br /><br /> -<small>THE LITTLE SUPPER PARTY</small></h2> - -<p>I arrived at her apartment. My appearance did not seem to embarrass her; -she greeted me with a smile and spoke to me as usual. Could it be that I -had suspected her wrongfully? But she did not observe my agitation! The -secret excitement which I strove to conceal would not have escaped the -eyes of love! They see everything, divine everything! And Caroline asked -me no questions, although I was on fire and talked at random; although I -was momentarily on the point of exploding and could hardly refrain from -outward manifestations of the torments I was undergoing!—No, she did -not love me.</p> - -<p>I told her that I intended to pass the day with her. I fancied that I -could detect embarrassment in her glance; but she speedily recovered -herself.</p> - -<p>“You always give me pleasure by staying with me,” she said at last, in -that soft voice which had fascinated me at our meeting on the boulevard. -Ah! such voices are as deceitful as the others!</p> - -<p>In vain did I try to compose my features and assume a cheerful air; I -could not manage it. I felt as if something were choking me, suffocating -me. I had had that feeling so often!—I went to the window, but -instantly turned away; I must not run the risk of being recognized in -the evening. Oh! what a tedious day it was! I put forward the dinner -hour; never, I think, was a dinner so<a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a> dreary to me! Caroline complained -of a headache; but I did not complain. If I could only have made love to -her! I tried; but her replies seemed commonplace beyond words to me. A -conversation between two people who have ceased to love each other is -woefully stupid.</p> - -<p>I suggested that we go to the theatre. She declined; her headache was -growing worse, and she felt very uncomfortable.</p> - -<p>“Perfidious creature!” I said to myself; “I understand! Why not say to -me frankly: ‘I no longer love you’? I should be less angry with you if -you did that. But, no, falsehood and dissimulation must needs be added -to inconstancy; you must always deceive us!”</p> - -<p>“Would you like me to stay with you?” I asked, pretending to be anxious -about her health.</p> - -<p>“No, no, thanks! All I need is rest; I shall have forgotten all about it -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>She could not conceal the fright caused by my proposition, which would -have upset all her plans. It was in my power to prevent their execution -that evening by remaining with her; but what would the result be? I -should simply postpone the catastrophe, and I should not have the -pleasure of confounding her an hour or two hence! Ah! I had no desire to -postpone that moment! I wished that it had already arrived. When we know -that we are to undergo a painful trial, the moments that precede it are -more cruel than those that follow it.</p> - -<p>The clock struck eight; she went to bed, in order to try to sleep. That -was the signal for me to retire. I bade her good-night. She came to me -to kiss me; she pressed my hand, and her eyes were dry, her heart beat -no faster!—I left the house; it was high time, for I was on the point -of breaking out!<a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a></p> - -<p>I was not sorry to have two hours before me previous to meeting Raymond. -I had time to calm myself and to decide what course to pursue. I felt at -once that the fresh air did me good. I have had that experience hundreds -of times; an atmosphere more or less heavy has a great influence on our -way of looking at things, especially when we are so unfortunate as to -have excitable nerves. A little rain, a little wind, calms or arouses -our passions; those which are natural are submissive to nature, and, -thank heaven! I know no other passions and do not agree with those -persons who declare that all passions are natural.</p> - -<p>For my sake she left her aunt, her little Jules, and many others! Why -should she not leave me as well? She had ceased to love me: that was not -a crime. But she had deceived me: that, I believe, was what distressed -me most; for it humiliates one to be deceived, especially when one is -old enough one’s self to deceive.</p> - -<p>However, such a liaison is bound to end, a little sooner or later. What -did it matter? I was no longer in love with her. That, I believe, was -why I was so incensed with her. I was vexed because I had allowed her to -anticipate me. Love forgives many things that self-esteem refuses to -forgive.</p> - -<p>If Nicette should deceive me! then, I felt that my grief would be a very -different matter. I remembered how disturbed, how agitated, I was when I -learned that she had taken a shop; and yet, I was only her friend. I -tried to think of Nicette; that was the best remedy for Caroline’s -treatment of me.</p> - -<p>I walked the whole length of the boulevards. I had had time to reason -with myself, and I had fully decided upon my course of action. I -realized what an idiot a<a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a> man must be to torment himself over the -treachery of a woman who has thrown others over for him. Indeed, how can -one rely on the word of a person who has no other guaranty to offer than -previous infidelities.</p> - -<p>I decided, therefore, to amuse myself at Mademoiselle Caroline’s -expense. That is the most satisfactory vengeance one can wreak on a -woman who deceives one. Every vengeance which savors of hatred, -jealousy, or anger denotes a lingering remnant of love; it is not real -vengeance.</p> - -<p>At ten o’clock I was at the Café Anglais. I ordered a glass of punch, -pending Raymond’s arrival. I did not propose to muddle my wits, but I -desired to attain that degree of excitement which makes one less -sensible of the folly of other people. My neighbor appeared, in the -careful négligé of a lady killer. One would have thought, from his -radiant expression, that he was the hero of the evening’s festivities.</p> - -<p>“We shall have great sport,” he said, taking a seat by my side, and -resting his elbow on the next table, regardless of the fact that he put -it in the dish of rice and milk of an old habitué.</p> - -<p>“What the devil, monsieur! be careful what you’re doing!” said the old -gentleman, putting down his newspaper. Raymond apologized profusely, and -removed his thoroughly drenched elbow from the bowl with such vivacity -that he rolled it onto the white trousers of a dandy who was reading the -<i>Journal des Modes</i>.</p> - -<p>The dandy made a great outcry, the old habitué scolded Raymond roundly, -and I saw that his apologies would soon bring matters to a climax. As I -did not propose that any fresh scrape should interfere with our going to -Monsieur de Grandmaison’s, I made haste to intervene,<a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a> striving to -pacify the two gentlemen and to restore peace. I succeeded at last, and, -dreading some new mishap, I dragged Raymond out of the café.</p> - -<p>“The evening seems to open inauspiciously,” I said, as I led him toward -Rue Caumartin.</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! far from it! this incident promises sport. It wasn’t my fault -that that old politician stuck his rice right under my arm; he ought to -have eaten it, instead of reading his newspaper; and then it wouldn’t -have happened.—But it’s half-past ten; let’s make haste; I’ll bet -they’re waiting for us.”</p> - -<p>“For you, you mean.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I wrote Grandmaison a line to tell him I should bring one of my -friends; so he expects you.”</p> - -<p>We arrived at Rue Caumartin and entered a pretentious mansion; it was -directly opposite Caroline’s rooms. We ascended a superb staircase; we -passed through several antechambers, lighted by globes suspended from -the ceiling, where half a dozen lackeys were yawning. Everything denoted -opulence and ostentation. I had not all that to offer her. I had thought -that I was doing a great deal for her: I had straitened myself and run -into debt; and what had I to show for it?—Ah! I was not likely to -forget my experience as a protector!</p> - -<p>My heart beat fast as I drew near the little salon where the company -awaited us; but I soon recovered my self-possession. We entered the -room, where I saw four men, but the host was not among them.</p> - -<p>“Ah! good-evening, my friends!” said Raymond, running from one to -another of the guests to shake hands. “Allow me to present a friend of -mine, a good fellow, who has a fancy to enjoy himself with us -to-night.—But where’s Grandmaison?<a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a>”</p> - -<p>“In the boudoir; he’s taming his pet before supper.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! to be sure! to be sure! they are making their final arrangements, -perfecting their agreement. Have you seen her, messieurs?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet. They say she’s charming!”</p> - -<p>“Fascinating; and almost a novice!”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! that’s a marvel!”</p> - -<p>“So Grandmaison wishes us to be less indecent than usual.”</p> - -<p>“Good! We’ll proceed by degrees, so as not to frighten her. But still, -this little one must be trained, and, really, Grandmaison is not the man -to do it!”</p> - -<p>“Poor man! the utmost he can do will be to say a word or two to -her—after supper.”</p> - -<p>“He’s not a blunt talker, like Joconde.”</p> - -<p>“No; but his wine is delicious.”</p> - -<p>“And he has an excellent cook.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, I have the greatest esteem for him!”</p> - -<p>“For the cook?”</p> - -<p>“No; for Grandmaison, you sorry joker!—Come, messieurs; no remarks with -a double meaning; that’s forbidden to-day. Besides, I am for morals -before everything!”</p> - -<p>During this pleasant conversation, I amused myself by examining the four -gentlemen. One, who was short, stout, and red-headed, contented himself -with laughing at every sally of the others, but did not venture to add -any of his own. He who talked most was a little man of some fifty years, -who tried to outdo the younger men by assuming the airs of a rake and -uttering all the obscenities that came into his head. A thin, pallid -young man, whose hollow, lifeless eyes betrayed his abuse of life, was -stretched out in an easy-chair, and swayed to and fro<a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a> as he addressed -an occasional senseless rhapsody to the jocose Raymond, who was in his -element. A tall, bulky individual, with large oxlike eyes and a nose -that would have put a colocynth to shame, completed the circle, which, -in my opinion, lacked only Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche.</p> - -<p>At last a door at the end of the room opened and Monsieur de Grandmaison -appeared, dragging his leg after him. But he was alone.</p> - -<p>“Where is she? where is she?” cried all the guests, with one voice.</p> - -<p>“One moment! one moment, pray! you’ll see her in a moment. She is giving -a little attention to her toilet. When I told her that she was to sup -with some friends of mine, she didn’t want to appear in négligé; and -then, too, I am not sorry to let her see all the presents I have for -her. I left her with a lady’s-maid. A little patience and some -punch—that will help us to wait for our supper.”</p> - -<p>Raymond presented me to Monsieur de Grandmaison, who exhausted himself -in commonplace felicitations upon my kindness in honoring his little -party. I answered in fear and trembling, lest he should recognize me; -but my apprehension soon vanished; I saw that Monsieur de Grandmaison -needed his opera glass to distinguish objects.</p> - -<p>An enormous bowl of punch was brought, and the gentlemen did it so much -honor that I was very doubtful what their condition would be at supper. -The tall man with the stupid face, whom the others called <i>milord</i>, did -nothing but fill his glass and empty it; while the little red-headed -fellow, whom I heard them call Zamorin, stuffed himself with macaroons, -cake, and biscuits, to assist him to wait for the supper.<a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a></p> - -<p>The old rake and the languid young man questioned Grandmaison concerning -his new mistress’s features; and the host went into her charms in -detail, promising to inform them more fully on the morrow.</p> - -<p>“What shall we call her?” inquired Raymond.</p> - -<p>“Her name is Madame Saint-Léon. A pretty name, isn’t it, messieurs?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, very pretty. I think a great deal of the name myself.”</p> - -<p>“Has she any children?”</p> - -<p>“Idiot! didn’t I tell you that she was almost a novice?”</p> - -<p>“True; but <i>almost</i> doesn’t mean that——”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense! hold your tongue, Raymond; you insult innocence!” said -Monsieur Rocambolle, the old rake. “I am sure that Grandmaison found -this woman at Les Vertus.”</p> - -<p>Enchanted by his jest, Monsieur Rocambolle turned, with a laugh, to the -young man; who laughed with him, showing two or three discolored teeth, -his only remaining ones.</p> - -<p>Amid the general clatter, as I did not wish to seem bored in the -agreeable company of these gentry, I said at random whatever came into -my head; and sometimes, without any effort to that end, I had the -pleasure of making the merry fellows laugh.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t I tell you that he was a wag, a delightful fellow?” cried -Raymond.</p> - -<p>I was a delightful fellow! I swear that I had taken no pains to be -delightful, but I fancy that my companions were not exacting.</p> - -<p>Supper was announced, and Grandmaison looked at his watch.<a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a></p> - -<p>“Three-quarters of an hour,” he said; “she must be ready; I will fetch -her. Go into the supper room, and I will bring her to you there.”</p> - -<p>He left the room, and Raymond, who was familiar with the locality, led -us into a round, elegantly decorated room, in the centre of which was a -table laden with everything calculated to flatter the sight, the smell, -and the taste.</p> - -<p>A handsome clock on a low white marble mantel marked within a few -minutes of midnight.</p> - -<p>“The devil!” exclaimed Monsieur Rocambolle; “almost twelve o’clock! We -shall have mighty little time to enjoy ourselves.”</p> - -<p>“Or to eat,” said Zamorin.</p> - -<p>“Wait, wait, messieurs,” said Raymond, who always insisted upon finding -a way to provide for everything; “I’ll set it back an hour.”</p> - -<p>“Well said! well said!” cried all the others. “That devil of a Raymond -is never at a loss! he’s as inventive as a girl.”</p> - -<p>Overjoyed to display the resources of his imagination, Raymond ran to -the clock, raised with startling rapidity the globe that covered it, -moved back the hands, and set the regulator so far toward <i>slow</i> that, -from the way in which he went about it, I concluded it would not be -midnight for two hours. Our attention was diverted by Monsieur de -Grandmaison’s voice, which announced the arrival of her whom all the -guests awaited, but how much less impatiently than myself!</p> - -<p>All eyes were turned toward the door by which she was to enter; I alone -stood aside, in such a position that she would not see me at once. We -heard the rustling of her gown, but at that moment there was a loud -report in the room; Raymond had broken the mainspring of the<a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a> clock; and -to cover up his stupidity, he hurried away from the fireplace and ran to -meet the beauty who was to be presented to us.</p> - -<p>She appeared at last, escorted by Monsieur de Grandmaison and by -Raymond, who had taken possession of her other hand and was already -pouring forth all the pretty things he was capable of saying. I saw her, -and my heart beat more violently, my chest swelled. That was the last -time that her presence ever produced any effect on me.</p> - -<p>She was magnificently dressed: an emerald necklace gleamed on her -breast, a very handsome comb and long earrings added to the splendor of -her costume. She entered the room with downcast eyes, assuming a modest -air almost exactly like that which deceived me the first time I saw her. -That woman was able to do whatever she chose with her face.</p> - -<p>“Now,” thought I, “let us see how she will endure a sight of me.”</p> - -<p>She raised her eyes to the company at last; instantly a concert of -praise and compliments burst forth. She was in truth very fair to look -upon, and the gentlemen vied with one another in their efforts to find -words enthusiastic enough to depict their ecstasy and enchantment. How -happy she was at that moment! there was a flush on her brow, but it was -a flush of pleasure, of pride, not of modesty.</p> - -<p>“But where’s my friend?” cried Raymond, looking about for me. He spied -me in the corner from which I was observing the scene, ran to me, seized -my hand, and dragged me toward Caroline.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” he said; “come, I say, and see the Three Graces! She’s Hebe, -she’s Venus, she’s Psyche, she’s——<a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a>”</p> - -<p>Raymond was interrupted by a cry from Caroline. She glanced at me as I -began to pay my respects to her, congratulating Monsieur de Grandmaison. -She turned pale, stammered, tried to recover herself; but the shock was -too sharp; she tottered, and fell upon her latest adorer. He, being then -occupied in responding to his friends’ congratulations, received the -young woman’s weight as he was about to take a pinch of snuff, to help -him to make some witty response. The poor man was not strong enough to -resist that unexpected blow; his left leg was always out of line, and -Caroline’s weight causing the right one to bend, Monsieur de Grandmaison -fell heavily, trying to grasp what was nearest him, which happened to be -Monsieur Rocambolle’s thigh. He clung to that, which he supposed to be -an integral part of the person, but his hand grasped nothing but the -cotton wool with which the old libertine stuffed his breeches in order -to improve his shape. The broadcloth split and tore, and Monsieur -Rocambolle’s fictitious thigh remained in Monsieur de Grandmaison’s -hand.</p> - -<p>While Monsieur Rocambolle angrily reclaimed his cotton posterior, while -the toothless youth threw himself upon a couch, laughing like a maniac, -while Zamorin looked to see if the supper were growing cold, and while -milord gazed from one to another of the company with eyes that seemed to -be starting from his head, Raymond, wishing to repair the damage -unassisted, rushed to the table in search of something to give the -fainting woman. As he put out his hand for a carafe, he overturned a -decanter of madeira, also a candelabrum, the candles in which fell upon -a fromage glacé and went out. The decanter fell on Monsieur de -Grandmaison’s face, who swore that his nose was broken; while Zamorin,<a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a> -seeing the havoc Raymond was making on the supper table, called loudly -for help. The servants hastened to the spot, but their presence served -only to increase the confusion. Caroline was still unconscious, or -pretended to be in order to conceal her embarrassment; Monsieur de -Grandmaison continued to curse, Monsieur Rocambolle to shout, Zamorin to -lament, and the young man to laugh; the Englishman tried to put a bottle -or two of champagne in a safe place; and Raymond, in attempting to -assist the young woman, to raise Grandmaison, and to restore order, -overturned furniture, smashed bottles and plates, sent a chicken in one -man’s face, a pie into another’s lap, and ended by falling upon a small -table laden with liqueurs and brandied fruits.</p> - -<p>What further business had I at Monsieur de Grandmaison’s? My revenge was -complete; the confusion was at its height; the scene of pleasure was -transformed into a scene of uproar and distress; singing had given place -to outcries, bonsmots to lamentations, drunkenness to wrath, merriment -to gloom; in a word, Caroline had seen and recognized me, and the effect -had surpassed my anticipations. I was satisfied; and leaving them all to -extricate themselves from their plight as best they could, I left -Monsieur de Grandmaison’s house, thoroughly cured of the sentiment the -young flowermaker had inspired in me.<a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII<br /><br /> -<small>THE TWO VISITS.—THE LESSON IN HANDWRITING</small></h2> - -<p>On the following morning, at nine o’clock, my doorbell rang. I was still -in bed, reviewing the events of the evening, and laughing at that which -had been powerless hitherto to extort a smile from me, because a single -sentiment had filled my mind and prevented me from considering the scene -from its comic side. But now that my head was cool, my heart tranquil, -and my mind no longer tormented by the anticipation of what was to -happen, I thought of the different personages I had left at Monsieur de -Grandmaison’s house; I fancied that I could see them gathered about the -lost supper, lost by the exertions of Monsieur Raymond; and I laughed -all by myself, as if I were still in their midst.</p> - -<p>If at that moment some inquisitive mortal, escorted by the <i>Diable -Boiteux</i> or some other imp, had perched on the roof of my house and -amused himself by watching me, he would have thought, no doubt, that I -was temporarily insane. For my own part, I cannot see that it was any -more extraordinary to laugh at those reminiscences than it would have -been to weep at them; but we are never astonished to see a person shed -tears; whereas, if you laugh all by yourself, you are looked upon as a -madman or an idiot. Can it be that tears are more natural to man than -laughter?</p> - -<p>My concierge, who, as I believe I have already told you, did my -housework every morning, opened my door<a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a> and ushered in my neighbor -Raymond, who, seeing that I was in a hilarious mood, thought that his -presence was responsible for it, and stood for a moment uncertain -whether to be angry or to join in my laughter. He prudently adopted the -latter course, and approached my bed chuckling.</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear fellow, it was a warm evening! Ha! ha! ha! You are still -thinking about it, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I look to you for the details of the catastrophe.”</p> - -<p>“And I to you for an explanation.”</p> - -<p>“Do you want it in the Bois de Boulogne again?”</p> - -<p>“No, no! Ah! you fox! the lovely Caroline had some reason for fainting -when she saw you!”</p> - -<p>“A perfectly natural reason: I am the young man whom Monsieur de -Grandmaison has replaced.”</p> - -<p>“Is it possible? Gad! it was a unique situation! And to think that it -was I who took you to the supper and introduced you to poor Grandmaison! -Deuce take it! you never said a word, you did not give me your -confidence, although I am devoted to you, heart and soul!”</p> - -<p>“I wanted to arrange a surprise.”</p> - -<p>“You succeeded mighty well!”</p> - -<p>“Tell me how the evening ended?”</p> - -<p>“Very dismally. There wasn’t any supper. The young woman insisted on -retiring. Poor Grandmaison’s face was cut by a bottle of wine that fell -on him, heaven knows how, and we had to leave them at liberty to go to -bed. But I fancy the night passed very differently from what they -anticipated. We parted in an execrable humor. Rocambolle was angry about -his cotton padding, Zamorin regretted the supper, and the other the -youthful beauty whom he hoped to seduce. I am the only one of the<a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a> party -who takes everything philosophically, as you know. But I confess that I -was impatient to see you, to learn the cause of the catastrophe which -disturbed the festivities. I came near waking you up last night, in -order to find out earlier.”</p> - -<p>“You did very well to let me sleep.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I must go, neighbor; but, I beg you, have a little more -confidence in me another time! You know how close-mouthed I am; you can -safely tell me anything! I always receive it under the seal of secrecy. -I should have made an excellent inquisitor, or an <i>illuminé</i>! I love -secrets. In the matter of secrets, I am absolutely impenetrable. For -instance—I am a Freemason: have I ever divulged the secrets of the -order?”</p> - -<p>“You have told me that there weren’t any.”</p> - -<p>“True, true; but I said that to deceive you the better. Adieu, -neighbor!—By the way, do you know the news? They say that the Baron de -Witcheritche wears horns. There’s a young musician who offered to show -the baroness how to play the serpent; the husband consented, because it -would be one more string to their bow, and it might be useful on -occasion. Moreover, the baron thought that he would compose some little -duets for the violin and the serpent, that he and his wife could perform -in company. So the musician came every morning to give her lessons; but -one fine day, Witcheritche, who was supposed to be in the country, -returned home unexpectedly; he found the teacher’s method of instruction -too progressive and the baroness too apt. It seems that Witcheritche -wasn’t as fond of music as usual that day; for he shrieked and swore; -his wife wept, the musician skipped; in short, there was a scandalous -scene. Little Friquet, whom I happened to meet the<a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a> other day, told me -about it; he had it from his aunt, who had it from Madame Bertin, who -had it from Crachini, who had it from Gripaille, who had it from a young -lady who lives in the house with Witcheritche. But I say that we -shouldn’t be too ready to believe rumors; we should go back to the -fountain head. I am going to the baron’s this morning; I shall see -whether he is on cool terms with his wife, and I’ll find a way to make -him tell me everything, without seeming to do so, by just mentioning the -serpent. Adieu! I have to finish a little vaudeville for which I have an -order from Rue de Chartres.”</p> - -<p>“Have you had a play accepted at some theatre?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I have had plays accepted everywhere.”</p> - -<p>“It’s strange that they are never produced.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’ll tell you why that is: when they are not produced at once, I -withdraw them! I have a will of my own, you know. Withdrawn at once, if -not produced as soon as I request it. It’s like my pictures, my little -water-colors, which I don’t send to the Salon, for fear they’ll be hung -in a bad light. A man should have some pride; veritable talent is -centred within itself, and there always comes a time when its envelope -is pierced.—Adieu, neighbor! I’ll give you a chance to dress.”</p> - -<p>“That man ought to be happy,” I said to myself, thinking of Raymond; “he -has no doubt of anything; he believes himself to be intellectual, -talented, and handsome. If a woman doesn’t listen to him, it’s because -she’s afraid of loving him too well; if his poems are not printed, it’s -because the publishers are ignorant; if his plays are not accepted, a -cabal of authors is responsible: his self-esteem does not allow him to -look at things from any but a flattering point of view. I am convinced -that he believes himself to be courageous, although he fought<a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a> a duel -with bulletless pistols; and that he would consider himself a soldier if -he were in the band of the national lottery; just as he thinks he has a -fine leg because he has fat calves, and beautiful hair because he’s as -woolly-headed as a negro. However, he is happy, and that’s the main -point. Happy people are not so rare as they are said to be; for there -are many in the world who resemble neighbor Raymond.”</p> - -<p>If it had not been so late, I would have gone to see Nicette; to read in -her eyes that sentiment so sweet, so affectionate, and, perhaps, so -true, that I had never found in Mademoiselle Caroline’s lovely eyes; I -say <i>perhaps</i>, for I dared not trust anything or anybody.</p> - -<p>On going out I unconsciously took the direction of Rue Caumartin, nor -did I stop until I reached the corner of that street and the boulevard. -It was all a matter of habit; habit is responsible for many things that -we do. In fact, it is a sort of second nature, it binds us in default of -love. How many people there are who have ceased to love each other, and -who remain together from habit! I do not refer to those who are married; -they cannot do otherwise.</p> - -<p>In order to put an end the sooner to that habit, which could not be very -deeply rooted, as my intimacy with Caroline had lasted only two months, -I determined to call upon Madame de Marsan, with whom I recalled that I -had been more or less in love. At all events, I owed her a visit for the -invitation which she had sent me, and of which I had been unable to -avail myself, thanks to my travelling companion.</p> - -<p>She lived on Faubourg Saint-Honoré, I remembered, near the first street -on the right; in any event, I could inquire; rich people are well known -and are always easy to<a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a> find; it is only the poor who are ashamed of -their poverty whom no one knows; but then, it is so seldom that anyone -seeks them. I bent my steps toward Faubourg Saint-Honoré and inquired -for Monsieur de Marsan. Three or four persons eagerly showed me his -house, pointed it out with their fingers. Evidently Monsieur de Marsan -was a very wealthy man! everybody knew him or wished to appear to know -him. Really, wealth is a fine thing!</p> - -<p>His house was, in fact, of imposing aspect; less elegant, less -ostentatious perhaps, than Monsieur de Grandmaison’s; but I suspected -that it was more productive, and to a man of calculating mind that -advantage is certain to outweigh others. It was only twelve o’clock; -might I see madame? It was very early for the first call on a pretty -woman, especially one who has passed her thirtieth year. The further a -lady recedes from her springtime, the more time she spends at her -toilet, so that she cannot be visible very early. At fifteen, a girl -appears just as she happens to be; at twenty, she receives callers in a -simple négligé; at twenty-five, she poses before her mirror for some -time before she appears; at thirty, she takes much pains with her -toilet; at thirty-six—but that would carry us too far; let us pause at -thirty-six.</p> - -<p>The concierge told me to go up to the first floor, the left-hand door; -that led to madame’s apartment. Monsieur’s offices were on the ground -floor. I walked through several rooms, and found at last a young -lady’s-maid—who was not pretty, and with whom no man was likely to -tarry when he was going to see her mistress. I asked for madame, gave my -name, and the maid went to announce me. I waited only five minutes; that -is not too long to wait to see a pretty woman, when so many wealthy -fools, vulgar parvenus, and public officials have<a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a> the assurance to keep -visitors waiting an hour before they condescend to show their inane -faces.</p> - -<p>“You may enter, monsieur,” said the lady’s-maid, and she ushered me into -her mistress’s presence. This prompt reception seemed to me of favorable -augury.</p> - -<p>I found Madame de Marsan sitting on a causeuse in a pretty little room -decorated in the daintiest style, where the light, being filtered -through double curtains and blinds, was very soft. I spied a piano, a -harp, and music. I have a great liking for women who are fond of music, -and a greater for those who play or sing; it is a sure resource in -idleness; and a woman who does nothing thinks too much.</p> - -<p>Madame de Marsan received me with an amiable smile, in which I fancied -that I could detect a shade of vexation. I attributed it to the absence -of zeal on my part in calling upon her; and that course of action, -which, however, was not premeditated, served me better than the most -assiduous love-making would have done. She was piqued; she believed that -she had surely subjugated me, and she had not seen me since. In truth, -that must have seemed very strange to her after the way I had ogled her -at the theatre and my conduct at Vauvert’s; it surprised myself, for I -now thought her a hundred times prettier than Caroline.</p> - -<p>She did not reproach me, however; but I made haste to apologize for -having failed to avail myself of her invitation, and told her what had -happened to Raymond and myself. The story of our adventures at -Montmorency made Madame de Marsan laugh heartily; and merriment, by -banishing the etiquette and formality of a first interview, permitted -our minds to understand each other and our hearts to divine each other.<a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a></p> - -<p>In order to prolong my visit, I urged Madame de Marsan to sing to me. -She consented, and acquitted herself with a grace and good taste that -fascinated me. She accompanied herself perfectly on the piano; in short, -she was a thorough musician. How she must have suffered at Vauvert’s -party!—But I realized that I must not unduly prolong the first -interview. It is judicious to make people desire one’s presence, and not -to be too lavish of one’s self at first, especially with women who are -accustomed to homage and love-making; in fact, to being assiduously -courted. Hitherto I had never had the art of concealing what I felt; -perhaps I was boasting too soon, but I had determined to be on my guard -in the future! My last adventure had revived all my grievances against a -sex which I could not shun, but to which I would gladly have repaid a -part of the torments it had caused me.</p> - -<p>I took leave, therefore, of Madame de Marsan.</p> - -<p>“Will you be as long again without letting me hear from you?” she asked, -as I rose to go.</p> - -<p>“No, madame; I shall take frequent advantage of the permission you -accord me to come to see you and listen to your singing. I trust that -you will not consider that I abuse it.”</p> - -<p>“Be assured, monsieur, that I shall never complain of that. You love -music, and we will sing together sometimes. I go out very little; and it -will be very good of you to make one of our little circle.”</p> - -<p>She was a charming woman. I am inclined to think that I say that every -time my heart takes fire. But, no matter; I may as well repeat it, as -the same sentiments were constantly renewed in my heart. What she had -said to me could not have been more amiable. She could not see me too -often—that was almost a declaration! I left<a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a> her, with the most -flattering hopes stirring in my breast, believing that I was adored -already. To be sure, according to what Raymond had told me, it would not -be her first weakness; he had spoken, I think, of three or four -<i>inclinations</i>. But I refused to judge Madame de Marsan according to the -remarks of my neighbor, who was a liar and a slanderer.</p> - -<p>“I will go to her house this evening,” I thought. But, no; that would be -altogether too soon! I had vowed never again to go so fast in an -intrigue, but to try to learn first of all the character of the woman -who attracted me, to avoid letting my sentiments appear until I was sure -of hers; and lo! I had taken fire already! I wanted to obtain everything -at once! Ah! I was incorrigible; I should never know how to spin out a -genuine romance.</p> - -<p>I determined not to go to Madame de Marsan’s again for two days. -Meanwhile, I must have distraction; not that I was still thinking of -Mademoiselle Caroline! so far as she was concerned, I was thoroughly -cured; indeed, I had concluded that the wound was not very deep. -However, if I were left to my own devices, my natural impatience would -drive me to Madame de Marsan. But had I not always Nicette to oppose to -ennui, sorrow, and, above all, new love affairs?—I would see her; but -not yet, for it was only two o’clock. I should be seen talking with her, -and that was what I did not want. I must wait until night; so I went -home, thinking that I would try to straighten out my affairs a little -before dinner.</p> - -<p>I found there a letter from my sister. Poor Amélie! She complained that -I had entirely forgotten her. In truth, it was now September, and I had -not yet been to see her. If I could have gone for two or three days; but -that was impossible! when I was once there, she would<a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a> never let me -go.—She wrote of a superb match she had found for me: sixteen years -old, beauty, virtue, and fortune. I agreed that the combination was -dazzling, but it did not tempt me as yet; perhaps in two or three -years—we would see. I made up my mind, however, to go to Amélie and her -husband for a fortnight during the autumn; indeed, it was essential that -I should do something to set my affairs in order, for my liaison with -the flowermaker had disarranged them sadly. The deuce! at the rate -things had been going, my income would soon have disappeared. I was much -indebted to her for leaving me soon enough to prevent my ruining myself. -With six months of strict economy, I should be able to pay my debts; for -six months, therefore, I would abstain from those passions that cost so -dear; Mademoiselle Caroline had proved that the women for whom we do the -most are not the ones who love us best.</p> - -<p>At nightfall, I went to see Nicette. Her shop was closed; but I saw a -light through the glass over the door. I knocked softly, fearing to -attract the attention of the neighbors. I had every appearance of a -lover who is afraid of being seen.</p> - -<p>“Who is there?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“It’s I, Nicette; it’s——”</p> - -<p>But I did not need to give my name; the door was already open and she -was before me. I entered the shop, closing the door behind me; then -paused to examine the girl, who was all alone amid the flowers and -shrubs which filled the whole shop, save a small space where there were -a table and a chair. The table was covered with paper, pens, and books; -and a single candle lighted that little room, where the different -flowers diffused a most agreeable odor.<a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a></p> - -<p>She bade me sit beside her.</p> - -<p>“How kind you are to come to see me, Monsieur Dorsan, and to think of me -sometimes!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think of me, Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! all the time! but that’s no reason why—why—I mean, it’s very -different!”</p> - -<p>“What were you doing when I came?”</p> - -<p>“I was writing, monsieur—learning my lesson.”</p> - -<p>She blushed as she said it. I glanced at the table and saw several -sheets of paper covered with large letters—a name written again and -again—and that name, mine! Poor Nicette!</p> - -<p>I looked at her; she blushed even more, and stammered, lowering her -eyes:</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, monsieur, for taking your name for a copy; but I -thought that my benefactor’s name ought to be the first thing that I -wrote.”</p> - -<p>I took her hands and pressed them.</p> - -<p>“Really, Nicette, I do not deserve so much friendship—if you knew me -better!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I know you well enough by all that you have done for me.”</p> - -<p>“Are you happy now?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; I can’t be more so.”</p> - -<p>The tone in which she said that, and the melancholy expression of her -face, gave me much food for thought.</p> - -<p>“You seem to me much changed, Nicette.”</p> - -<p>“How, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“You are pale, and a little thinner than you were.”</p> - -<p>“But I am not sick.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps this smell of flowers——”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’ve been used to that a long time.<a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a>”</p> - -<p>“I miss in your manner that light-heartedness and vivacity that I -noticed at the time of our first meeting.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! a person can’t be always the same.”</p> - -<p>“Still, if you have nothing to distress you——”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, no, I haven’t anything.”</p> - -<p>“Your eyes tell me the contrary. Dear Nicette, you have been crying.”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; and even if I had—why, sometimes one cries without -knowing why, and without being unhappy.”</p> - -<p>We said nothing more. I did not choose to question her further, for I -thought that I could guess what caused her distress. She did not look at -me again; doubtless she was afraid that I would read her eyes. She was -pensive and silent. Nor could I find anything to say. Her sadness had -infected my heart. But the silence had a charm which we both enjoyed. -However, I thought that I ought to try to divert her thoughts, and at -the same time turn my own mind from reflections that were too hazardous. -I went to the table and looked at the paper and the writing.</p> - -<p>“You write well already, Nicette.”</p> - -<p>“Not any too well yet, monsieur; but I hope, with time——”</p> - -<p>“Do you still take lessons?”</p> - -<p>“No, I haven’t any teacher now; he said things to me that I didn’t like; -he didn’t want to give me the word I wanted for a copy; he always made -me write: <i>Commencement, commonly, exactly</i>; and I didn’t see why I -couldn’t learn just as well by writing <i>Dorsan</i> as <i>commonly</i>, although -it isn’t so long. That made him angry, so I sent him away; I can get -along without him. I know how to write the small letters too.”</p> - -<p>“Let me see.<a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! my hand would tremble before you, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Why so? I will give you a lesson.”</p> - -<p>“Will you, really?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes; to be sure.”</p> - -<p>She seated herself at the table; I placed a chair close beside hers, put -my right arm about her, and guided her hand with mine; my face touched -her hair; her whole body was against mine; I inhaled her sweet breath, -and I could count the beating of her heart. Ah! what pleasure that -lesson afforded me! Unconsciously, without premeditation, I made her -write <i>I love you</i> again and again. My hand trembled as violently as the -hand I was guiding. But a tear fell from her eyes. The pen dropped from -our hands. I have no idea how it happened; but Nicette’s pretty face was -hidden against my breast, her two arms were about me, and mine pressed -her fondly to my heart. At that moment I felt that even if Madame de -Marsan, or any other woman, were present, I would not put Nicette’s arms -away.</p> - -<p>We had been a long while in that position and did not think of changing -it. Nicette was happy, and I—I must confess it—enjoyed a pleasure that -I had never known before, a pleasure of which I had no conception, -undisturbed by any desire for which I need blush. But, engrossed as I -was by the present, I could not answer for the future; another caress -might kindle a conflagration.</p> - -<p>There came a loud knock at the door of the shop. Nicette started from my -arms, and I looked at her with some disquietude.</p> - -<p>“Who can have come to see you so late? You told me that you had no -acquaintances.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know who it is; I don’t expect anybody!<a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a>”</p> - -<p>Her eyes reassured me; they could not lie! But the knocking was -repeated, and we distinguished these words:</p> - -<p>“Open the door, open quick, Mamzelle Nicette! your mother’s very sick -and wants to see you.”</p> - -<p>Nicette ran to the door and recognized the daughter of one of Madame -Jérôme’s neighbors. The girl told her that her mother had had an -apoplectic attack as the result of a violent quarrel with her daughter -Fanchon; and feeling very ill, she longed to see the child she had so -unjustly turned out of doors. Nicette flew about the shop; in an instant -she had taken off her apron and put on her cap.</p> - -<p>“Adieu, adieu, Monsieur Dorsan!” she said, in a trembling voice, and -with eyes filled with tears; “my mother is sick and I must forget -everything.”</p> - -<p>We left the shop; she took the little girl’s arm and dragged her away; -the child could hardly keep pace with her. I soon lost sight of them.</p> - -<p>Sweet girl! she possessed all the virtues, and I loved her better than I -thought, more dearly than I had ever loved. The most convincing proof -that I really loved her was that I had thus far respected her innocence; -but I felt that I must avoid going to see her at night; to be alone with -her would be too dangerous. If it had not been for that knocking—I do -not know what might have happened.</p> - -<p>I decided to return to Madame de Marsan, so as to turn my thoughts from -Nicette; I must give my brain occupation, in order to allow my heart to -become calmer. By that means I should at least provide myself with a -pardonable motive for my new follies.<a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV<br /><br /> -<small>THE BOURGEOIS COMEDY.—THE REHEARSAL</small></h2> - -<p>For several days my conduct was really most exemplary; I paid court to -Madame de Marsan, concerning whom my neighbor had told me too much. I -did not go again to see Nicette at night; and when I passed her shop -during the day, I bade her good-morning without stopping. Her black -dress told me of the loss she had sustained, but I did not ask her for -any details of Madame Jérôme’s death.</p> - -<p>Madame de Marsan was a very agreeable, lively, coquettish person; I -found several young men assiduously attentive to her, but had no idea -whether they were more fortunate than I. I was not sufficiently enamored -of her to be jealous; and yet, it annoyed me to see that swarm of -admirers who so often forced themselves between her and myself. Twenty -times I was tempted to cease to augment their number, but a secret hope -whispered to me that I was the preferred one and that I should distance -all my rivals.</p> - -<p>Madame de Marsan’s receptions were delightful: the company was select, -the women were pretty, the men well bred; courtesy without affectation -or reserve was the ordinary rule; we were lively and cheerful without -ceasing to be decent, gallant without mawkishness; and if anyone did say -something a little spiteful, it was said in the good-natured tone in -which one may say anything<a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a> with impunity. The music was excellent, -without being pretentious; sometimes they played for high stakes, but -you could never detect the faintest emotion on the faces of the players; -in good society, people know how to lose their money with a charming -grace.</p> - -<p>The month of October was drawing near, and before the winter should come -and open the season for balls Madame de Marsan proposed to give a party -at her country house, at which there were to be some theatricals. I had -been hearing of this function for a long while, and extensive -preparations were being made therefor. The matter of the plays to be -given was thoroughly discussed, and at last they fixed upon <i>Le Barbier -de Séville</i> and <i>Fanchon la Vielleuse</i>. Madame de Marsan insisted that I -should take part. I had never acted in anything but charades, but I -could not refuse to do whatever she wished. I was cast for Lindor, and -she for Rosine; I could not complain of that arrangement. The other -parts were distributed, and Raymond was not forgotten; he was an -invaluable man for bourgeois comedies. As for Monsieur de Marsan, he -never took part in theatricals. In large parties, husbands are of no use -except to provide the money.</p> - -<p>On the appointed day, Madame de Marsan went to her country house, where -all the actors were to report a week before the performance, in order to -have plenty of time to rehearse and arrange the stage business. Raymond, -who had left me in peace for some time, came to me now every morning to -urge me to hear him repeat the rôle of Bartholo; and as he was to appear -in <i>Fanchon</i> also, in the part of the Abbé de Lattaignant, I must needs -teach him the airs he had to sing; for, although he held himself out as -a great musician, it took him a<a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a> fortnight to learn a vaudeville -couplet, even though he always had some score or other in his pocket.</p> - -<p>“They’d have done much better to give some short new play instead of -this interminable <i>Fanchon</i>,” my neighbor said to me every morning. “I’d -have written one myself! indeed, I have some all written, which would be -just the thing for amateurs!”</p> - -<p>“You ought to suggest them.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! there’s that Madame Saint-Marc, Madame de Marsan’s friend, who’s -determined to play Fanchon, because, I suppose, she thinks she’s very -pretty <i>en marmotte</i>. And that tall thin fellow who wants to play -Sainte-Luce—we shall see how it goes. I myself could have played the -officer much better than the abbé; the part’s better suited to my figure -and style; however, I’m willing to take the other part to oblige; I -sacrifice myself. I hope, however, that if we have time, before the -fête, they’ll play my little opera, <i>Les Amants Protégés par Vénus</i>; -there are only three short acts, but very spectacular. Listen, this is -the first——”</p> - -<p>“I’m studying my part.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, I want you to judge of the effect. The stage represents a -magnificent country house, where preparations for the wedding of the -lovers are in progress. The princess begins and says:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“‘Prince, ’tis here that we’re to be united.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How happy I am! how——’”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>I listened no longer; and although the fête was not to come off for ten -days, I rid myself of Raymond by leaving Paris for Madame de Marsan’s -country house, where I was not sorry to arrive in advance of the rest of -the guests. I hoped there to find a more favorable<a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a> opportunity; and -opportunity is such a precious thing! Many people have owed their -happiness to it; all that is necessary is to know enough to grasp it.</p> - -<p>This time I had obtained such directions as were necessary to prevent my -going astray, and in due time I arrived at Madame de Marsan’s estate. It -was almost a little château; the situation was delightful, the -surroundings beautiful; the gardens seemed quite extensive and very well -kept, the apartments decorated with refined taste, and so well arranged -that a large number of guests could easily be accommodated. But I -postponed my examination of these details, being in haste to present my -respects to the mistress of the house.</p> - -<p>“Madame is alone,” said the maid; “none of the guests have arrived yet.”</p> - -<p>I had hoped that that would be the case.</p> - -<p>“And Monsieur de Marsan?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! monsieur won’t come until the day of the party or the day before. -He never meddles in such things.”</p> - -<p>I could not have chosen my time better. I hastened to surprise her. The -welcome I received satisfied me that she was flattered by my zeal.</p> - -<p>“It is very good of you to come first,” she said; “we can rehearse a -scene from <i>Le Barbier</i> together. Our parts are very long, you know, -and, for my part, I have a very poor memory.”</p> - -<p>“I will do whatever you please, madame.”</p> - -<p>“Come first of all to look at our theatre. I am sure that you expect to -find a cramped little place, where your head touches the flies, and the -houses are smaller than the actors. Come, monsieur; I am determined that -the sight of our playhouse shall arouse a spirit of emulation in you.<a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a>”</p> - -<p>She laughingly led me into the garden; the theatre was in the centre. It -was large, convenient, and excellently arranged. The auditorium was -tastefully decorated and would hold about three hundred people.</p> - -<p>“Well, monsieur! what do you say to our theatre?”</p> - -<p>“That it would put many provincial theatres to shame.”</p> - -<p>“And we flatter ourselves, too, that we give better performances than -one sees in the provinces. We do not shrink from anything: comedy, -vaudeville, opéra-comique! We play everything except tragedy.”</p> - -<p>“Why that exception?”</p> - -<p>“You will agree that in the best amateur company at least half of the -performers are good for nothing and provoke laughter, which in our -theatre is never prohibited; but we noticed that the audience always -laughed more at tragedies than at other plays; and as we could not -mistake that for applause, we have ceased to play any but merry pieces; -now, when we cause laughter we can persuade ourselves that it is a sign -of approval. There is always some way of sparing one’s self-esteem, you -see. At our last performance we had a most complete success! We gave -<i>Porceaugnac</i>, with all the scenic accessories; nothing was forgotten; I -fancy that we bought all the syringes in Montmorency. But it was -charming, and it made a great sensation. It was spoken of in Paris; we -even had an article in the paper. You will agree, monsieur, that our -honor is involved now in maintaining our reputation.”</p> - -<p>I promised Madame de Marsan to do my best to make myself worthy to -appear upon her stage; and we left it, to stroll through the garden. It -was almost a park; it was possible to lose one’s self there, and I hoped -to take advantage of that fact. There was a little clump of trees, a<a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a> -grotto, a bridge, which lacked nothing but water, dense, bosky groves, -shaded paths, turf that was always green, several pretty little -elevations, a subterranean path, a cliff, a waterfall, and all the games -that can be played in a garden. It was a delicious spot, into which it -seemed to me that ennui could never find its way. Madame de Marsan gave -me a small bedroom overlooking the fields. I should have been delighted -with it, except that it was a long way from hers. I reproached her for -it, and she answered with a jest. Patience! perhaps my turn would come.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, it was incumbent on me to learn my part. Madame de Marsan -wished to rehearse some scenes that night, and she left me to study. No -constraint, no etiquette in the country.</p> - -<p>“Here,” she said, “everyone does what he pleases—rises in the morning, -goes out to walk, stays in the house, goes away, returns, as his fancy -bids him. So long as you are prompt at meals, and, above all, at -rehearsals, you are absolutely your own master.”</p> - -<p>I promised to conform to the established rules, and buried myself among -the trees to study the rôle of Almaviva. But the thought that I was -alone in that house with Madame de Marsan—for servants and workmen do -not count—that thought made my mind wander. What! I was under the same -roof with a pretty woman, who allowed me to make love to her without -apparent displeasure, who seemed indeed to manifest something more than -interest in me—and I could be satisfied with anything less than a -complete victory!—I saw that I had to do with an accomplished coquette, -who perhaps pretended to be sensible to my attentions in order to keep -me bound to her chariot for a longer time.<a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a></p> - -<p>I looked forward to dining tête-à-tête with Madame de Marsan, but a -tiresome neighbor came to call, and he dined with us. I had an idea that -his presence was as disagreeable to her as to me, but, of course, she -must seem to be delighted to see him. Luckily, at the table the neighbor -talked for three; we were able to think of whatever was in our minds, -and still the conversation did not languish. The old gentleman hardly -gave himself time to breathe: he described his property to us in detail, -from the main entrance to the garden wall; we knew just how many acres -of land he had, and what his kitchen garden brought him in; how many -trees he had planted, the number of his hens, how many eggs they laid in -a week, what they were worth in the market, and a thousand other details -no less interesting to us. But while he was talking, my eyes carried on -a very different sort of conversation with Madame de Marsan. The -neighbor, engrossed by his crops and his betterments, did not notice it. -I discovered that loquacious people are sometimes very convenient. At -last, about half-past seven, the neighbor concluded to go home, to see -how many eggs his hens had laid during the day. He took his leave, and I -was alone with Madame de Marsan. We went out for a walk in the garden; -the verdure, the shadows, the silence, everything was conducive to -tenderness. I tried to speak of love; the coquette replied only by -repeating some of Rosine’s lines. I continued, paying no heed to her. -She rebuked me.</p> - -<p>“That isn’t right, monsieur,” she said; “you haven’t studied your part; -you don’t know a word of it.”</p> - -<p>“But, madame, I am not talking about our play.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that, monsieur! didn’t we agree to rehearse?”</p> - -<p>“We have plenty of time.<a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a>”</p> - -<p>“No; I have a bad memory.”</p> - -<p>“Then you refuse to listen to me?”</p> - -<p>“On the contrary, but give me my cue.”</p> - -<p>“You have known a long while that I love you, that I adore you.”</p> - -<p>“I know that all that is in your part, but you ought to say it -differently.”</p> - -<p>“I see, madame, that you take pleasure in tormenting me.”</p> - -<p>“Anger—passion—that’s right! I assure you that you will act -splendidly!”</p> - -<p>What a woman! it was impossible to make her reply to the question that -interested me. We returned to the salon; I was in an execrable humor. I -rehearsed with the book in my hand, but I said my lines so badly that -Madame de Marsan laughed at me incessantly. I left her and went to bed; -I was almost tempted to remain no longer in that house. However, I did -remain; but I cursed womankind, all of whom played fast and loose with -me. The only one who combined all the estimable qualities, the only one -who manifested genuine affection for me, was the very one of all who -could neither be my wife nor my mistress.</p> - -<p>The next day I decided to learn my rôle; perhaps that complaisance on my -part would be considered worthy of recompense; at all events, as I was -to act, I did not choose to make a more awkward appearance than the -others; so I studied Count Almaviva. I went into the garden, my <i>Barbier -de Séville</i> in my hand. I have always been able to learn easily when I -chose; in less than four hours I was able to act almost the whole play. -I said nothing at dinner; I wished to surprise Madame de Marsan, who -asked me laughingly if I knew it as well<a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a> as I did the previous evening. -When it was dark, we went to the salon; she refused to rehearse in the -garden, on the pretext that it was too cool there. Was that really her -reason? She took her part; I did not need mine, as I knew it perfectly. -We rehearsed our scenes; I acted with such vigor and earnestness, such -truth to nature, that she was struck dumb. Now it was my turn to scold -her; I was obliged to correct her, to show her what to do; but she was -delighted with my talent, and did whatever I bade her—let me take her -hand, squeeze it, kiss it, throw myself at her feet.</p> - -<p>“What! is all this in the play?” she asked, deeply moved.</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame, it’s all there.”</p> - -<p>And, taking advantage of my position, of all the privileges that my rôle -of stage lover gave me, I was in a fair way to make rapid progress, when -we heard a commotion out of doors. In a moment the door of the salon -opened and Raymond appeared.</p> - -<p>“The devil take the man!” I muttered; “upon my word, he was born to be -always in my way!”</p> - -<p>Seeing me at Madame de Marsan’s feet, he whipped his part out of his -pocket, and began to shout at the top of his lungs:</p> - -<p>“‘Ah! malediction! that savage, piratical villain, Figaro! How can one -leave his home one moment, and not be sure that on returning——’ -Madame, I have the honor of presenting my respects; I am punctual, you -see.—Good-evening, my dear Dorsan! Why on earth did you start off -yesterday afternoon without me? I would gladly have come with you. Well! -I know my lines already, you see. I have a superb memory! With the -prompter’s help, I am all right.<a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a>”</p> - -<p>Madame de Marsan thanked Raymond for his promptitude and complimented -him upon his ease. Her agitation had disappeared; we went on with our -rehearsal, and she was engrossed by her part. My hopes were crushed -again! Infernal Raymond!</p> - -<p>The next day all the members of the troupe arrived; it was impossible to -find a moment for a tête-à-tête; we were rehearsing from morning till -night, and when <i>Fanchon</i>, in which Madame de Marsan did not appear, was -being rehearsed, she had so many orders to give about costumes and the -details of the fête, that I could not obtain the briefest interview with -her. Alas! but for Raymond I should have been happy, I am sure; the -auspicious moment had arrived; and he who would subdue a cruel fair must -not allow such moments to escape him; they may recur with an emotional -woman, but they are very rare with a coquette.</p> - -<p>Raymond was in the seventh heaven: he was immersed in business to his -ears; first of all, he had his two parts to learn, which was no small -thing for him; then, Madame de Marsan had given him the general -supervision of the scenery and the orchestra; moreover, as the young -woman who was to play Fanchon was her intimate friend, and as the -performance happened to come on her birthday, she requested him to -compose a scene referring to that coincidence, to be added to the -vaudeville which was to close the performance. Raymond sweated blood and -water to produce that little impromptu. In the morning, as soon as I was -awake, he came to tell me what he had done; he always had the beginning -of his couplets, but he could not succeed in completing one; and he -transferred that task to me, begging me to make use of him whenever I -wished to celebrate anyone’s birthday. After<a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a> breakfast he hurried to -the theatre, turned everything topsy-turvy, examined the scenery, and -regretted that he had not the necessary time to arrange some new -mechanism, because he would have liked to put a transformation scene in -his little contribution; but, in default of demons—for Madame de Marsan -would not hear of them, for fear of fire—and of nymphs,—an article not -to be found in the neighborhood,—Raymond confined his efforts to having -a wreath descend upon Fanchon’s head; and he urged the gardener, who had -charge of the machinery, to be sure to make a superb one, and to suspend -it by a cord from one of the roof timbers on the day of the performance. -Then my neighbor proposed to introduce two little Cupids, who, instead -of appearing from a cloud, were to come up from the prompter’s -box—which was likely to produce more effect—and to present bouquets to -all the actors and actresses on the stage.</p> - -<p>The great day drew near; the rehearsals proceeded with great zeal and -activity; everyone considered that his honor was at stake, and -determined to outdo the others. How much occupation an amateur -theatrical performance affords! what anxiety and toil! what a world of -details! how much trouble people take! But, on the other hand, what joy -to win applause! and one is certain of that in advance, even though one -acts wretchedly. We all knew our parts, except Raymond, who stumbled -through Bartholo’s lines and could not remember a single one of -Lattaignant’s. The ladies scolded him, but his reply was always the -same:</p> - -<p>“With the prompter’s help, you’ll see how glibly I’ll rattle it off.”</p> - -<p>On the night before the performance we were to have a dress rehearsal on -the stage, with all the lights.<a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a> Raymond had not been seen since -morning; at six o’clock, the hour appointed for the rehearsal, he had -not come. We waited in vain; they searched the whole house, the garden, -the wood; everybody was engaged in the search; the servants were sent -around the neighborhood, with orders to bring Monsieur Raymond back, -dead or alive. We could not begin without him; we were in despair, at -our wits’ end; for there was no one to take his place. How could anyone -learn two long parts between night and morning? The ladies were on the -point of weeping with indignation, when, about eight o’clock, Raymond at -last appeared, drenched with perspiration, covered with dust, and -leading by the hand two chubby, rosy-cheeked little boys, five or six -years old, smeared with dirt and dressed in dirty, mud-stained blouses.</p> - -<p>“Where have you been?” was the general cry; the ladies were for -beginning operations by beating him.</p> - -<p>“That’s right!” said Raymond; “scold me savagely, when I have nearly -killed myself finding two Cupids for you! I have been scouring the -neighborhood ever since morning; I am sure that I have travelled a good -ten leagues! But nothing but sulky faces, squint eyes, flat noses -everywhere! At last I found what I wanted at Saint-Denis; but see how -fresh and plump they are! they’ll make two first-class Cupids.”</p> - -<p>The aspect of the two little fellows, for whom Raymond had bought candy -to bribe them, and who were smeared with it to the ears, soon allayed -the wrath of the company.</p> - -<p>“What about their mother?” asked Madame de Marsan.</p> - -<p>“She’s a dairywoman at Saint-Denis. She’s overjoyed to have her children -play two little Cupids, and she’s coming to see them to-morrow; I -promised her a place<a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a> behind the rear curtain. Now, just have these -little rascals cleaned up a bit, and you’ll see how pretty they are!”</p> - -<p>The young lady who was to play Fanchon did not understand why Cupids -were needed, not knowing that a little surprise was being prepared for -her. Madame de Marsan tried to repair Raymond’s indiscretion. The -rehearsal went on and lasted until one in the morning, when, being -thoroughly exhausted, we all went to bed, longing ardently for the -morrow; and Raymond intrusted his two Cupids to the housekeeper, with -instructions to cleanse them and make them get up early, so that he -would have time to teach them what they had to do.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV<br /><br /> -<small>ALMAVIVA AND ROSINE.—A SCENE ADDED TO <i>LE BARBIER DE SÉVILLE</i></small></h2> - -<p>The great day arrived. The ladies rose early; the thought of their -costumes had kept them awake. The men, who are sometimes as coquettish -as the ladies, were all absorbed by their costumes or their rôles. I was -less engrossed by the great affair of the evening, because my passion -for Madame de Marsan, intensified by the obstacles it had encountered, -occupied my thoughts quite as much as the play. But the busiest of all -was Raymond. He was out of bed at daybreak. He sought out the two little -peasants, and tried to make them move gracefully, and to teach them a -little stage business, while he told them what they would have to do in -the evening. The children stared at him, jumped into the air when he -told<a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a> them to dance, fell on the ground when he tried to make them stand -on one leg, and began to cry when he told them to smile. My neighbor -took them to the gardener, now transformed into a scene shifter, and -repeated the lesson to him. The gardener was a dull-witted lout, who -knew nothing at all, but who chose to pretend to understand instantly -whatever was said to him.</p> - -<p>“Do you know what you have to do to-night, my friend?” Raymond asked -him.</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“First, the wreath of flowers——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Which you are to lower on Fanchon’s head.”</p> - -<p>“Fanchon’s—yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“You are to fasten it to a cord hanging from the beam; do you know -whether there is one?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes, monsieur; there was one for that gentleman with the syringes -they acted the last time, that was so funny! Monsieur -Pourceau—Pourceau—the man who wouldn’t take physic before people, you -know.”</p> - -<p>“Just so, my man, just so.—Well, when the wreath is all fixed, you must -make a dozen fresh, pretty bouquets, and give them to these children, -who will be dressed as Cupids.”</p> - -<p>“Say! I know ’em; they’re Madeleine’s boys.”</p> - -<p>“Pay attention to what I say.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“When they have the bouquets, you’ll take them to the prompter’s box.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, to the box, I understand.”</p> - -<p>“And they are to go out on the stage when I clap twice with my hands.<a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, with your hands.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t forget anything, my friend.”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur. Oh! you needn’t be afraid; I’m used to play-acting here!”</p> - -<p>Raymond next betook himself, with the two children, to the costume room. -He found no knit flesh-colored tights, because such costumes are rarely -used by amateurs. He was obliged to be content with nankeen trousers, -over which they were to wear their little white tunics: these, with the -girdle, the band, the bow, and the quiver, should make the illusion -complete. After urging the wig-maker, who had come from Montmorency for -the occasion, to outdo himself in dressing the Cupids’ locks, Raymond -forgot everything but his rôles, and set about learning them for the -evening. A numerous and select party of guests had arrived from Paris, -and they strolled about the house and gardens. Madame de Marsan, despite -the necessary preparations for the play, did the honors of her house -with no less grace than good breeding. Monsieur de Marsan did not arrive -until a few moments before dinner on the day of the fête. He was -detained in Paris by business on the Bourse; he knew that his wife was -spending a lot of money, and he had to devote his attention to making an -equal amount in order to maintain the equilibrium. In the evening, many -of the people of the neighborhood, carefully selected from the most -eligible, who had received invitations for the performance, were on hand -promptly. Thus the auditorium was certain to be entirely filled, for the -last rows of chairs were thrown open to some of the villagers. It is -much more agreeable to act before a large audience; empty benches are -never flattering to the actor, even at an amateur performance.<a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a></p> - -<p>The hour to begin had arrived. Our little hall was full. Raymond kept -looking through the hole in the curtain, to see where the ladies were -sitting whom he proposed to ogle.</p> - -<p>“Time to begin!”—Such was the cry of all who were ready; but everybody -was not ready, and it seemed as if Raymond would never finish dressing. -After each garment that he put on, he ran to look through the hole, with -his jar of rouge in one hand and his rôle in the other.</p> - -<p>“Hurry! hurry!” we shouted at him from all sides, and pushed him back -toward his dressing room; then someone ran to Madame de Marsan’s room, -to ask if Rosine was ready. The four amateurs who formed the orchestra -had twice played through the overture to <i>Richard Cœur de Lion</i>, -which served as overture to <i>Le Barbier</i>. They were about to begin it a -third time, because they had no other music with them; the audience -began to lose patience and some faint murmurs were heard. But at last we -were ready, and Raymond, who was the machinist, raised the curtain.</p> - -<p>I knew my lines very well, and my feeling for Madame de Marsan, who -looked prettier than ever in the costume of Rosine, imparted to my -acting the warmth and genuineness which befit the rôle of a lover like -Almaviva. The young man who played Figaro was spirited, good-looking, -and daring. We played with great <i>verve</i>, our scenes went off -excellently, and the audience was delighted. At the moment when Bartholo -was to appear at the window with Rosine, Raymond, trying to raise the -blind, jerked it so violently that it was detached and fell on the lamps -which did duty as footlights; luckily, the sight of Madame de Marsan, -who was delicious in her<a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a> Spanish costume, covered Raymond’s -awkwardness. The first act went without a hitch. In the second, Raymond, -whose memory was fatigued already, could not say a word without the -prompter, and he stood in front of his box all the time, with his eyes -fixed upon it and his ears strained to hear. Often the prompter had to -repeat the words three times, Raymond meanwhile abusing him when he did -not prompt, and telling him to be quiet when he did prompt him in some -speech that he thought he knew. Thus he made of Bartholo a veritable -Cassandra; but such an audience as ours could not fail to be indulgent; -moreover, all the other rôles were well done; we entered into the spirit -of our parts and filled the stage with animation. We were wildly -applauded; and Raymond assumed his share of the applause, although he -confused us terribly when he was on the stage with us.</p> - -<p>The third act began with Raymond on the stage. He walked forward and -took his stand in front of the prompter’s box.</p> - -<p>“‘What temper! what temper! [<i>To the prompter</i>: Why don’t you prompt -me?] She seemed appeased! Will someone tell me [Don’t prompt me.]—will -someone tell me who in the devil put it into her head to—to [Prompt me, -will you?]—to refuse [What’s that? I don’t hear you.]—to refuse to -take lessons from Don Basile. [Don’t prompt me!] She knows that he is -interfering about my marriage. Do everything in the -world—do—do—[What? what do I say next? What the devil! you don’t know -how to prompt at the right time!]’”</p> - -<p>The audience concluded to laugh at our Bartholo; whereat Raymond rubbed -his hands with a satisfied air, and, whenever he returned to the wings, -exclaimed:<a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a></p> - -<p>“How pleased they are! how it amuses them! No audience at the Français -ever laughed so much!”</p> - -<p>The play came to an end at last, in spite of Raymond, who did all that -he could to prevent it; but Rosine’s grace, Figaro’s hilarity, and, -lastly,—for one must do one’s self justice,—the warmth, the passion, -the ardor which gave life to my performance of Almaviva made the -illusion complete; I obtained a brilliant triumph, and I read in Madame -de Marsan’s eyes the pleasure that my success afforded her.</p> - -<p><i>Le Barbier</i> at an end, the performance of <i>Fanchon</i> was hurried -forward. All of the cast of the first play, with the exception of Madame -de Marsan and myself, were to appear in the second. We two had plenty of -time to change our costumes. All the dressing rooms opened on the -garden; those of the ladies were separated from ours only by an avenue -of lindens. Having resumed my civilian costume, I went out into the -garden for a breath of air. The second play had begun long before, and -everybody was on the stage or among the spectators. The solitude and -tranquillity of the garden were in refreshing contrast to the clamor not -far away. I was not sorry to be able to saunter there for a moment; but -as I crossed the avenue of lindens, I saw a lady come from one of the -dressing rooms opposite. I stopped; it was Madame de Marsan; it was my -Rosine. She recognized me and came toward me.</p> - -<p>“Where is Monsieur le Comte Almaviva going, pray?”</p> - -<p>“I came out to enjoy this cool shade a moment; but I missed something: -Almaviva cannot be happy without Rosine.”</p> - -<p>“Rosine is not at all sure that she ought to go with you.<a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What! after consenting to allow yourself to be abducted?”</p> - -<p>“In truth, I should play the cruel now with a bad grace; but remember -that you swore to be true to me! to love me always, to love none but -me!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I swear it again! I have no other desire than to repeat it every -moment!”</p> - -<p>“But where are you taking me? we seem to be going a long way. Why do you -take the darkest paths? Why are we going in under these trees? It is too -dark here!”</p> - -<p>“Dear Rosine, what can you fear, with me?”</p> - -<p>“Dear Lindor, I am ill at ease.”</p> - -<p>“Did you not intrust yourself unreservedly to me?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I fear that I was not wise. What are you doing? Kissing me like -this! Oh! that isn’t in the play.”</p> - -<p>“Do we refuse a kiss to the lover who is to be our husband?”</p> - -<p>“Stop—Lindor—Dorsan—— Oh! this scene——”</p> - -<p>“Dear Rosine, what is it but the natural sequel? ought it not to crown -our love?”</p> - -<p>Madame de Marsan tried in vain to resist; it was too late; I had entered -too completely into the spirit of my rôle, and she had identified -herself with hers. We added to <i>Le Barbier de Séville</i> the scene which -the audience does not see, but which it may well divine after the union -of Almaviva and Rosine. For some time the thicket had witnessed that -charming scene, half lighted by the moon. The fervor with which we -played our parts caused us to forget the world and the fête. I was -determined that Almaviva should obtain as great a triumph in the thicket -as on the stage, and Rosine was so prompt in response that I could not -lag behind. We had not begun to think of the dénouement, when it was -hastened by an<a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a> unforeseen incident; but, to explain it, we must return -to the theatre.</p> - -<p><i>Fanchon</i> was acted indifferently well; many of the actors, not knowing -their parts, had skipped several scenes; Raymond had done the same with -his lines; so that the play was soon done. Neither Madame de Marsan’s -absence nor mine was noticed; the actors supposed that we were in the -audience, the spectators, that we were behind the scenes.</p> - -<p>The vaudeville being finished, Raymond arranged his little scene in -honor of the lady who had played Fanchon, and whose birthday it was. -Everyone sang his or her couplet, and Raymond called for Madame de -Marsan and myself to sing ours. As he did not find us, and as the -dénouement was at hand, he ran into the wings and seized the cord to -which was attached the surprise that was to descend upon Fanchon’s head. -He pulled it slightly, and the weight that he felt above set his mind at -rest, convincing him that the gardener had not forgotten to attach the -wreath.</p> - -<p>The moment had come; the orchestra played</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What grace, what majesty!”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>That was the signal for the wreath to descend. Raymond let the cord go; -a sudden murmur ran through the hall, then bursts of laughter arose on -all sides.</p> - -<p>“Stop! stop!” someone called from the stage. Raymond put his head out -from the wings to witness the tableau, and saw that, instead of a wreath -of flowers, he had lowered a syringe on Fanchon’s head.</p> - -<p>The confusion was at its height; the hall rang with laughter, while on -the stage wrath at Raymond’s blundering folly was still predominant. The -young lady who<a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a> had played Fanchon was obliged to push the syringe away -from her head. Raymond dropped the cord and ran out on the stage, -crying:</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t my fault; it’s Pourceaugnac’s syringe—and that idiot of a -gardener forgot to take it off! It should have been a wreath. But we’ll -make up for this.—Forward, Cupids!”</p> - -<p>He gave the signal, the orchestra played Zéphire’s air from <i>Psyche</i>, -and everybody waited impatiently for what was coming. Again Raymond -clapped his hands.</p> - -<p>“Come on, Cupids!” he cried; “come out, I say!”</p> - -<p>But nothing came out of the prompter’s box. The audience, tired of -waiting to no purpose, prepared to leave the hall, and the actors to -vacate the stage. In vain did Raymond try to detain them, crying:</p> - -<p>“They’re coming! they’ll appear in a minute! they must be putting on the -bands!”</p> - -<p>Nobody listened to him. In his rage he determined to find his Cupids, at -all events; he jumped down into the prompter’s box, looked under the -stage and in every corner of the building, but he did not succeed in -finding them.</p> - -<p>The two little fellows were dressed and ready two hours before it was -time for them to appear. The gardener, bewildered by all the orders he -had received, had entirely forgotten the wreath; but he had made some -bouquets, which he gave to the children, then led them to the prompter’s -box and said:</p> - -<p>“Stay here; you’re to go on the stage when you’re called.”</p> - -<p>The children waited quietly for half an hour; but they were tired by -that time; they thought that they had been forgotten; and as they could -enjoy themselves much more<a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a> in the garden than under the stage, they -left their bouquets there and went outside to play. In running about -they approached the house, and saw on the ground floor, in a -well-lighted room, a sideboard covered with innumerable delicacies, the -bare sight of which made them open their mouths and lick their chops. -They stopped, sighed, nudged each other, divined each other’s thought, -and looked behind them in obedience to the natural instinct of the man -who is about to do wrong. There was no one in sight; all the servants -had deserted the house for the play.</p> - -<p>“Oh! see the nice things, brother!” said the smaller of the two; “we -never saw anything like ’em!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! Fanfan, mustn’t that be sweet?”</p> - -<p>“Say, Jean; just think—if we could eat some of it!”</p> - -<p>“Look at them cakes!”</p> - -<p>“There’s no one there; let’s climb in! Come on!”</p> - -<p>They easily climbed in the ground-floor window; they ran to the -sideboard, stuffed their mouths full, made aprons of their tunics, and -filled them with fruit, meats, and cakes; lapped the cream that they -could not carry away; dug their fingers into jars of preserves, and took -refuge finally in the attic, to eat at their ease what they had filched.</p> - -<p>While the little peasants were regaling themselves, Raymond was scouring -the whole estate to find his Cupids. As he came out of the theatre, -after a vain search, he met Monsieur de Marsan, who was looking for his -wife, the company being surprised at her continued absence.</p> - -<p>“Have you found them?” inquired Raymond.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know where she is; people are asking for her; ordinarily, I am -not called upon to interfere in anything.”</p> - -<p>“Whom are you talking about?<a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a>”</p> - -<p>“My wife, who is not here to do the honors of the fête.”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! Madame de Marsan can’t be lost; she’ll turn up; but my two -Cupids—I am more anxious about them; for I must give them back to their -mother, who is not Venus; and she’ll break one of her little pitchers -over my head if her brats are not found. Let us search the gardens -together; the little rascals must be somewhere here.”</p> - -<p>Monsieur de Marsan followed Raymond, hoping to find his wife rather than -the two little fugitives. They walked through part of the garden, and -Monsieur de Marsan proposed to return to his guests, feeling sure that -his wife must be with them; but Raymond detained him, telling him that -he, Marsan, was responsible for the Cupids, as they were lost on his -premises. They drew near the swing, which was close to the clump of -trees where I was playing my scene with Madame de Marsan.</p> - -<p>“They are over in this direction,” said Raymond; “I hear the swing -moving; I was sure that my little blackguards were amusing themselves.”</p> - -<p>They reached the swing, but saw nothing.</p> - -<p>“There’s no one here, you see,” said Monsieur de Marsan.</p> - -<p>“It’s strange,” said Raymond; “I still hear the same noise. Why—it’s in -this direction—in the thicket! What the devil are they doing there?”</p> - -<p>Monsieur de Marsan went forward; Raymond followed him. The moon at that -moment was much too bright! we were petrified.</p> - -<p>“It’s Almaviva and Rosine!” said Raymond, jumping back. Monsieur de -Marsan alone retained his presence of mind.<a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a></p> - -<p>“Madame,” he said, calmly addressing his wife, “your guests are asking -for you; you are needed for the festivities; you must try to arrange -your business and your pleasures so that they will not interfere with -each other.”</p> - -<p>With that, he coolly turned on his heel and returned to the house. -Madame de Marsan had fainted; Raymond stood like a statue. I rushed from -the thicket, pushing him roughly aside, in an instant was at the -courtyard, then on the Paris road, and reached the capital at two in the -morning.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI<br /><br /> -<small>WHERE WILL IT END?</small></h2> - -<p>After the adventure of the thicket, it was impossible for me to go again -to Madame de Marsan’s house, or to see her in public. So that we were -obliged to cover our liaison with a veil of mystery. With many women -that fact would have simply added to the charm; but I was afraid that -with Madame de Marsan, who loved to be surrounded by adorers and by -admiring homage, the impossibility of gratifying her vanity by her -conquest of me would speedily abate her love. If we no longer met at her -house, it was solely out of respect for the proprieties; for, as Raymond -had witnessed the catastrophe, I had no doubt that it was known to -everybody.</p> - -<p>What surprised me most was that I had not seen him since that memorable -evening: a week had passed, and I had not even met him on the stairs; -doubtless he<a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a> dreaded my wrath. He evidently kept out of sight when he -heard me coming; for as we lived on the same landing and both went in -and out several times during the day, we did not usually pass two days -without meeting.</p> - -<p>Madame de Marsan and I were in regular correspondence; we made -appointments, we went into the country together, and sat in closed boxes -at the theatre. I enjoyed her society more, seeing her only <i>en -tête-à-tête</i>. There was no longer between us that swarm of young dandies -who were constantly fluttering about her, and whose presence was far -from agreeable to me; when we were alone, she could not play the -coquette so successfully and amuse herself by tormenting me. So that, -for my part, I was not at all sorry that we met as we did, but I was -very much afraid that it was not the same with her. Already our -correspondence was beginning to drag, our assignations were becoming -less frequent; she constantly found something to prevent her meeting me: -a reception, a ball, some festivity which she could not possibly avoid -attending. I had no faith in her excuses, because I knew that her -husband left her entirely at liberty to do as she chose. If she refused -to keep an appointment with me, it was because she preferred to create a -sensation at a ball or a concert; in a word, to make conquests, to -surround herself with admirers and attentions, rather than to be alone -with me. The conclusion to be drawn from that state of affairs was very -simple: Madame de Marsan did not love me, had never loved me. She had -smiled upon me solely from caprice; had given me hopes from coquetry; -had yielded by chance; and would leave me because she was bored.<a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a></p> - -<p>One morning, opening my door suddenly, I saw Raymond going downstairs -and caught him by his coat tail.</p> - -<p>“Great heaven! I thought you were dead, Monsieur Raymond!” said I.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, my dear neighbor! It’s a fact—I haven’t seen you since -the <i>Barbier de Séville</i>.”</p> - -<p>“That is true; and I counted upon you to tell me how the festivities -came to an end.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you must have heard all about it from——”</p> - -<p>“From whom?”</p> - -<p>“You know whom I mean. To tell the truth, I was afraid you were angry -with me.”</p> - -<p>“Why so?”</p> - -<p>“Because I took her husband to the thicket.”</p> - -<p>“Aha! so it was you who brought him there, was it?”</p> - -<p>“That is to say, it was I and it wasn’t. He was looking for his wife, -and I was looking for the Cupids, who were giving themselves indigestion -in the attic; the little rascals nearly burst, and their mother declared -it was my fault and wanted to tear my eyes out! I was in hard luck at -that party!—But to return to your adventure—if you had let me into the -secret of your liaison with Madame de Marsan, it wouldn’t have happened; -on the contrary, I would have induced the husband to abandon the idea of -looking for his wife! But there, as I am always saying to you, you won’t -ever tell me anything! your reticence leads to surprises! in fact, you -are responsible for my having to give up going to Monsieur de Marsan’s.”</p> - -<p>“Why so?”</p> - -<p>“Why so! it’s easy enough to see: the wife, knowing what—what I saw, -receives me very coldly; and the husband’s another oddity. I wished to -try to arrange matters; it was no easy task, but still, as it was -night,<a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a> and moonlight—and then, with a shrewd wit one can make anything -look all right.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Well, when you had gone, I tried first to help Madame de Marsan, who -had fainted, as I thought; but the moment I put my salts to her nose, -she got up without help, threw the salts into my face, and ran off and -locked herself in her room. When I saw that, I said to myself: ‘I must -go to the husband and throw dust in his eyes.’—I went to the salon, and -motioned to Monsieur de Marsan to step out to speak to me; at first he -was unwilling to leave the écarté table, but he finally made up his mind -to it. I led him into a corner and said: ‘Monsieur, you mustn’t believe -all you see, especially by moonlight, because the moon changes the -aspect of things, and you may be misled. The scene they were rehearsing -in the thicket was of my invention, and was to be played after the -<i>Barbier</i>: it was a love scene, and in love scenes the actors sit very -near together, on each other’s knees sometimes, take hold of hands, -embrace—in fact, the more things they do, the more complete the -illusion.’—That was rather clever, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Very clever; and what reply did Monsieur de Marsan make?”</p> - -<p>“He hardly let me finish; then he said in a very sharp tone: ‘Be good -enough not to weary me with any more of your nonsense, and never to open -your mouth again on that subject!’—And, with that, he turned on his -heel. Faith! I confess that I call that very ill-mannered! I try to give -a husband the matrimonial prism, and he receives me like a dog in a game -of tenpins! you must agree that it was not very pleasant. To cap the -climax, a moment later up comes the dairywoman with her two brats, who<a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a> -were purple in the face; they had just been found in an attic; and the -impudent peasant began to abuse me, and promised me that, if they burst, -her husband would summon me before the magistrate! As if it was my -fault! Why, I told them to act the part of Cupid, not to stuff -themselves with food!—Faith! when it came to that, I took my hat, and -taking advantage of Figaro’s cabriolet—he was driving back to Paris—I -turned my back on the fête, vowing that I would never again compose -anacreontic scenes for peasants.”</p> - -<p>My neighbor left me when he had finished his story. Despite the -assurance that I had given him that I harbored no resentment against him -on account of that incident, he seemed to me to retain in my presence a -constrained, embarrassed air which was not usual with him. He had left -me, whereas ordinarily I had hard work to get rid of him. I sought in -vain a reason for this behavior, which was not natural in Raymond. -However, it mattered little to me what maggot he had in his brain; it -surprised me more than it interested me.</p> - -<p>There was something that surprised and troubled me much more: for a long -time I had received no bouquets from Nicette. At first, I thought that -her mother’s death might have kept her busy for some days; but that had -taken place more than six weeks before, and still I found nothing at my -door! I had become so accustomed to those tokens of remembrance, that -every evening, when I went home, I hastily put my hand to the doorknob; -but I found nothing, and I said to myself sadly:</p> - -<p>“She too has forgotten me! I might reproach her, but I do not want her -to do from a sense of duty what I had thought was a pleasure to her.<a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a>”</p> - -<p>It was a long time since I had seen her; I woke too late in the morning; -in the evening, I was either with Madame de Marsan, or some friend would -drag me away to one of the parties which began to be more numerous with -the approach of winter. Besides, I knew how dangerous it was to go to -see her in the evening!—Meanwhile, my meetings with Madame de Marsan -were daily becoming less frequent and more depressing; she was simply -waiting for an excuse to break with me altogether; and I, from a spirit -of contradiction, refused to furnish her with one.</p> - -<p>For several days we had not met; but we had arranged to dine together on -a certain day; it was almost like granting me a favor. We dined at the -Cadran-Bleu; the sight of the Méridien, just opposite, reminded me of -the much livelier repast of which I had partaken with Mademoiselle -Agathe; and I said to myself that the grisette, who deceives one openly, -is a hundred times preferable to the <i>petite-maîtresse</i> who clings to us -when she does not love us. The dinner was a gloomy affair, despite my -efforts to prolong it; at seven o’clock we had nothing more to say to -each other. I suggested the theatre, but there was no play that -attracted her; it was not the season for walking, and I did not know -what to suggest, or how to amuse her. At last she began to complain of -pain in the stomach and head, of the vapors, in short. She decided to go -home and to bed early, and I applauded the idea, which was a great -relief to us both. We left the restaurant; I was going to take her home -in a cab, as usual, but she preferred to go on foot, thinking that the -walk in the fresh air would do her good. It was dark, and we had no fear -of unpleasant meetings. We walked along like a husband and wife of -twenty years’ standing, exchanging a word every five minutes. We<a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a> -reached Rue Saint-Honoré and should soon pass Nicette’s little shop; but -it would surely be closed, and I was very glad of it. As we drew near I -saw that the shop was still open; the shrubs had not been taken inside. -It was too late to turn back. Indeed, why should I turn back? Was I not -at liberty to give my arm to whomever I chose? Yes; but still I hoped -that she would not see me.</p> - -<p>We reached the shop; Nicette was at her door; she saw me, and by some -inexplicable whim Madame de Marsan chose to stop to examine her flowers.</p> - -<p>“Here’s a lovely orange tree,” she said; “for a long time I have wanted -one in my boudoir; I like this one very much; don’t you think it -pretty?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame, very pretty.”</p> - -<p>I was embarrassed; I kept my eyes on the ground, avoiding Nicette’s.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid it’s too large, though,” continued Madame de Marsan. “Have -you any others, my girl?—Well! why don’t you answer?”</p> - -<p>Nicette did not hear her; she had her eyes fixed on me, and doubtless -her expression was very eloquent, for Madame de Marsan, greatly -surprised, scrutinized her closely; her pretty face, her confusion, my -emotion, my embarrassed manner, aroused in Madame de Marsan’s mind -suspicions, which undoubtedly went beyond the truth. Women divine very -swiftly, and their imagination travels fast. Madame de Marsan no longer -loved me, but she had the curiosity which no woman ever loses on that -subject, and, in pure deviltry, she pretended to be very fond of me.</p> - -<p>She entered the shop, leaning nonchalantly on my arm; she bestowed an -amorous glance on me and addressed<a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a> me in the familiar second person, -which she had not done twenty times at the very outset of our liaison.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of these trees, my dear fellow? tell me which you -like, my dear Dorsan; I want to choose the one you like best.”</p> - -<p>Vexation and anger were suffocating me; I was hardly able to stammer a -few disjointed words. I glanced at Nicette; I saw her turn pale and -stagger; her eyes filled with tears; they seemed to say to me:</p> - -<p>“She loves you! do you love her?”</p> - -<p>Madame de Marsan saw it all; she smiled maliciously and watched Nicette -closely.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with you, child?” she asked, in a contemptuous tone; -“you seem very much excited.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, madame, nothing’s the matter,” the poor girl replied, in a -trembling voice, looking at Madame de Marsan and at me in turn.</p> - -<p>“What’s the price of this orange tree?”</p> - -<p>“It’s—it’s—whatever you choose to give, madame; I don’t care.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that? you don’t care? That’s a strange answer!—What do you -think, my dear Dorsan? Come, answer; I don’t know what’s the matter with -you to-night, really!”</p> - -<p>“When you are ready, madame, we will go.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I see, monsieur; you have reasons for not wanting to stay in this -place with me; my presence embarrasses you—and seems to grieve -mademoiselle! Ha! ha! this is too good! to grieve this poor child!—that -would be cruel beyond words! Come, monsieur, when you choose. But, I beg -you, don’t leave her in despair.—Adieu, my girl!<a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a>”</p> - -<p>She left the shop at last, and I followed her after glancing at Nicette. -But she was crying and did not look at me.</p> - -<p>When we were in the street, Madame de Marsan laughed as if she would -die, and joked me about my amours and about the innocent flower girl. I -made no reply, although I might have made some very mortifying remarks; -we must be indulgent to the woman who has been weak for our sake. I left -her at her door. I was in great haste to see Nicette again; I was -determined now to tell her all my thoughts, all my sentiments; I -proposed to conceal from her no longer the genuine passion which she had -inspired, and which I had fought against to no purpose. She shared it; I -could not doubt that. We would be happy together; yes, I would abandon -myself thenceforth to the dictates of my heart, which told me that I -must possess Nicette. The friendship between us was simply a pretext to -conceal our love; we could not misunderstand each other! Why those -fruitless efforts to overcome the sentiment that drew us toward each -other? Why should cold prudence deprive us of happiness? Is love a -crime, pray? and can that which makes us so happy make us guilty?</p> - -<p>I ran, I flew—at last I stood before her shop; it was closed, and I -could see no light within. I knocked: there was no reply. Was she -asleep? No, no; I was sure that she would not be able to sleep. I -knocked again—no reply! Where could she be? I passed an hour in front -of her shop. I knocked again, but to no purpose. I was convinced that -she was inside, but that she was determined not to admit me, that she -was weeping and did not wish me to see her tears. Perhaps she feared -that I would reproach her for her conduct before Madame<a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a> de Marsan. Dear -Nicette! Far be it from me to reprove your love.</p> - -<p>“I will see her to-morrow,” I thought; “I will console her, and I shall -easily triumph over the resolutions of the night! Since it must be, I -will wait till to-morrow.”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII<br /><br /> -<small>MY STAR PURSUES ME</small></h2> - -<p>I did not sleep; my mind was too disturbed, my heart too agitated for me -to obtain any rest. All night long I formed plans, prudent, extravagant, -and delicious. Nicette was always included in those charming visions of -the future, which my imagination conceived so readily; I transformed her -into a shepherdess, a great lady, a <i>demoiselle</i>; she and I were -together in a palace, in a village, in a desert; but, wherever we were, -we were happy. Ah! how sweet it is to dream waking dreams when one loves -and believes one’s self to be loved in return!</p> - -<p>I rose at daybreak; I had twenty schemes in my head, and, as usual, I -could not decide upon any one. First of all, I must see Nicette; that -was the most important thing. My toilet was soon completed; I was sure -that I always looked well to her.</p> - -<p>I left my room; everybody was still asleep in the house, unless there -was somebody who was very much in love. Madame Dupont, who had ceased to -be amorous, kept me waiting a century before she pulled the cord of the -porte cochère; at last she heard me knocking and shouting at her window, -and I was free.<a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a></p> - -<p>In less than five minutes I was in front of the shop; it was still -closed. I was surprised; Nicette was usually such an early bird.</p> - -<p>Should I wait? should I knock? I stood hesitating in the street, when a -messenger passed. It was the same one I had questioned some time before; -he recognized me, touched his hat as he passed, and took his seat some -twenty yards away. I walked toward him, with no definite idea what I was -going to do. The messenger, who was pleased with my conduct on the -former occasion, hastened to offer me his services.</p> - -<p>“I have nothing for you to do, my friend,” I said, in a decidedly dismal -tone, mechanically putting a five-franc piece in his hand.</p> - -<p>He stared at me in amazement, and waited for me to speak before he -ventured to put the coin in his pocket. I looked toward Nicette’s shop -and pointed at it.</p> - -<p>“That flower girl is rather late about opening, it seems to me,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Oh! it’s early yet; but still, she’s been a bit lazylike for some time. -Well, well! it isn’t surprising!”</p> - -<p>“Why so?”</p> - -<p>“When a woman gets love into her head!”</p> - -<p>“How do you know? Who told you she was in love?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! a man don’t have to be very sharp to see that kind of thing! you -see, I’ve been on this square twenty year, so I ought to know pretty -well what’s going on in the quarter.”</p> - -<p>“What do you know about this girl? What have you seen? Answer, and keep -nothing back. Here, take this.”</p> - -<p>I felt in my pocket again and put more silver in the messenger’s hand, -whereat his amazement redoubled and he looked into my face for symptoms -of insanity.<a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a></p> - -<p>“You told me that this girl was virtuous and honest, and that she did -not speak to anybody, because she preferred not to.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true, monsieur, that’s true. She’s honest enough still; but when -a girl’s young, she may take a liking for someone, and——”</p> - -<p>“Explain yourself more clearly! What makes you think that?”</p> - -<p>“Pardi, monsieur! because I see the fellow come to see her.”</p> - -<p>So Nicette had deceived me! Nicette did not love me! No, I could not -believe it. I determined to question the man further. I leaned against -the post that adjoined his stone bench; I needed support, for I trembled -at the thought of finding my misery confirmed.</p> - -<p>“You say that you see someone come to her shop?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Since when?”</p> - -<p>“Why, it was about three weeks ago that the man came prowling around -here; at first he came in the morning, to buy flowers; then he came at -night, just at dusk, and talked a little; then he stayed longer; and -it’s got so now that he comes almost every night and talks an hour or -two with the pretty little flower girl. But I think everything’s all -straight as yet; the shop door’s always open, and unless they meet -somewhere else, which is possible enough, for women are sly, and it -ain’t safe to trust to virtuous airs!—--”</p> - -<p>“What does he look like?”</p> - -<p>“Well, he ain’t exactly a young man, perhaps about forty years old; nor -he ain’t very handsome, either; but as to his get-up, he’s one of your -sort, a man who looks as if he was somebody! And you can see that the -little<a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a> flower girl, who put on airs with us poor folks, might have been -flattered to make the conquest of a swell; that’s probably what caught -her!”</p> - -<p>“And he comes every night?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, pretty near; he don’t hardly ever miss a night now.”</p> - -<p>“That’s enough.”</p> - -<p>I strode away from the messenger; the poor fellow had unsuspectingly -torn my heart; at the very moment that I proposed to abandon myself -without reserve to my love for Nicette; to turn my back on society of -which I was weary, so that I might live with her and for her—at that -moment, I lost her thus! She loved another, and I believed myself to be -sure of her love! With that sweet delusion vanished the blissful future -of my waking dreams that morning.</p> - -<p>I was still in the street; I could not go away. At last the shop opened; -Nicette appeared; she was pale and downcast; but I had never seen her -when she was so pretty, I had never been so deeply in love with her.</p> - -<p>The little traitor—with that innocent air! Alas! had I the right to -complain? had she given me her troth? had I told her that I loved -her?—But was it necessary to tell her so? It seemed to me that we -understood each other so perfectly. We had both been deceived!</p> - -<p>Should I speak to her? Of what use was it now? what could I say to her -that would interest her? No; I would not see her or speak to her again; -I would forget her!</p> - -<p>I do not know how it happened; but, with the firm intention to avoid -her, I had walked toward her; and I found myself in front of her shop, -where I stopped, in spite of myself.<a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a></p> - -<p>She came to meet me with an air of constraint; her eyes were red, as if -she had wept much; what could be the cause of her distress? I did not -know what to say, and I stood mute in front of her; she too was -thoughtful.—And this was the interview in which the confidence and -unreserve of love were to reign supreme!—Poor mortals! our plans are -drawn on the sand.</p> - -<p>“I came last night,” I said at last, in a tone which I strove to render -cold.</p> - -<p>“Last night—yes, I saw you, with—with that lady.”</p> - -<p>“No, I mean a few minutes later—I came back and knocked.”</p> - -<p>“I was not here.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you never went out.”</p> - -<p>“I went out last night.”</p> - -<p>“You might have been at home, and have preferred not to let me in.”</p> - -<p>“Why so, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“Sometimes a person doesn’t like to be disturbed when she has company.”</p> - -<p>“Company!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you understand me perfectly well; will you tell me again that you -have no visitors? For the last three weeks, hasn’t a gentleman come to -see you—almost every evening?”</p> - -<p>She was embarrassed, she blushed. The messenger had not deceived me.</p> - -<p>“Well, mademoiselle, you don’t answer. Is it the truth?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, it’s the truth.”</p> - -<p>She admitted it! ah! I would have liked to have her deny it, I should -have been so happy to believe her!—Further doubt was impossible! there -was no more hope<a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a> for me! I must go. I cast a last glance at her and -left the shop abruptly, for I did not choose to let her see the -suffering she caused me. She made a movement to detain me, then paused -in her doorway, contenting herself with looking after me.</p> - -<p>I resolved to think no more of her; she was no better than the rest!—In -truth, I was unlucky in love! I had never yet fallen in with a faithful -woman; they had all deceived me, betrayed me, played fast and loose with -me; but all their perfidies had caused me less pain than I suffered -because of Nicette’s inconstancy! She saw that I loved her; all women -see that at a glance! She did everything to attract me! To think that -one so young should be so skilled in feigning love and sensibility and -gratitude! I could never again believe in anything or anybody.</p> - -<p>But, before forgetting her entirely, I proposed to see the man who had -replaced me in her heart, the man who had beguiled her, whom she loved! -What a lucky dog he was! At that moment I would have given all that I -possessed to be loved by Nicette.</p> - -<p>I had been told that he went to see her every evening; I would see him -that very day. There was a café almost opposite the shop, where I could -wait unobserved, for I did not choose that the ungrateful girl should -witness all the torments of my feeble heart.</p> - -<p>I passed the day as best I could, and at five o’clock I betook myself to -Rue Saint-Honoré. When I came in sight of her shop, I looked to see if -she was in the doorway. She was not there, and I slipped into the café -unseen by her. I took my seat at a table that touched the window, and -ordered a half-bowl of punch, because it would naturally take me some -time to drink it. The waiter made me repeat my order; no doubt he took -me<a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a> for an Englishman or a Fleming; but I cared little. I took up a -newspaper to keep myself in countenance, and kept my eyes fixed on the -flower shop.</p> - -<p>The time seems very long when one anticipates a pleasure, and still -longer when one is suffering and in dread. Would the darkness never -come! It was October, and should have been dark at six o’clock. Could it -be that it was not yet six? I looked at the clock; it marked only -half-past five; it was probably slow. I looked at my watch; twenty-five -minutes past five! It was cruel! I tried to drink the punch that was -before me, but it was impossible for me to swallow; I had not dined, but -I had been suffocating since the morning.</p> - -<p>At last the daylight faded. How was I to see what happened inside the -shop? how was I to distinguish that man’s features? I hoped that she -would have a light. Sure enough, she came out with a light and began to -carry in her flowers. What sadness, what depression in her whole aspect! -She seated herself in the shop, beside the table, but she did not write! -She sighed and glanced often into the street. She was expecting -someone—and it was not I!</p> - -<p>It was almost seven o’clock, and no one had appeared. Suppose he should -not come? Should I be any happier then? Had she not agreed that morning -that I knew the truth? And had her blush, her embarrassment, told me -nothing?</p> - -<p>A man appeared and entered the shop; he sat down beside her. Great God! -did not my eyes deceive me? It was Raymond! Raymond with Nicette! -Raymond her lover! No, no; that was impossible!</p> - -<p>I rushed out of the café to make sure of the truth. Someone ran after me -and stopped me. It was the waiter;<a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a> I had forgotten to pay. I did not -understand very well what he said, but I put three francs in his hand -and he left me. The darkness allowed me to remain in the street unseen -by Nicette, while I could see her plainly. It was in very truth Raymond -whom I had seen, whom I saw. He was talking to her very earnestly, and -she listened with attention. I read in her eyes the interest she took in -what he was saying; she seemed more distressed than ever, she wept. He -took her hand and squeezed it tenderly! She did not withdraw it! That -lovely hand abandoned to Raymond! Ah! it was all over, I could no longer -doubt my misfortune. I felt that I must fly while I still had strength -to do so, and must never see her again! If only I could at the same time -banish her image from my thoughts! But the idea that she loved Raymond -crushed me, haunted me incessantly! So it was for Raymond’s benefit that -I had preserved intact that flower which it would have been so sweet to -me to pluck! I respected her innocence, and this was my reward!</p> - -<p>If some respectable young man, of obscure station like herself, had won -her heart while seeking her hand, I might perhaps have consoled myself; -at all events, I should have been proud of having kept her pure and -worthy of his vows. But that such a fellow as Raymond should triumph -over Nicette! By what spell could he have fascinated her? He was neither -young nor handsome; he was a stupid, vain, chattering bore! If there was -anything lovable about him, I had never discovered it! And that was the -man she preferred to me! Oh! these women!</p> - -<p>I was no longer surprised at the embarrassment I had observed in -Raymond’s manner when we last met. The traitor! so that was why he -avoided me. The fellow was<a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a> my evil genius, in very truth! He knew that -I knew Nicette; he knew, perhaps, that I loved her. If I had listened to -nothing but my rage, I should have gone to him and insulted him. But how -can one obtain satisfaction from a dastard? and would his death make -Nicette what I formerly believed her to be? I would despise one and -forget the other; that was the only course for me to pursue.</p> - -<p>Once more I sought in repose oblivion of my suffering. What a different -night from the last! Last night, forming delightful plans based upon -love and constancy; to-night, cursing that sentiment and the woman who -had inspired it! If the weariness caused by such tempests of emotion -made me doze for a moment, my first thought, on reopening my eyes, was -of all my blasted hopes.</p> - -<p>When I was dressed, I could not resist the longing to talk with Raymond. -I promised myself to retain my self-control, to hold myself in check, -and to conceal the state of my heart. I hastened across the landing and -knocked and rang at his door. The concierge knew that he was at home; he -was not in the habit of rising early; still he did not open the door. I -rang again, and that time the bellrope remained in my hand. I heard -sounds at last; I recognized his heavy tread, and soon his nasal tones -greeted my ears.</p> - -<p>“Who is it making such a row at my door before seven o’clock? It’s -outrageous to wake a man up like this!”</p> - -<p>“It’s I, neighbor; it’s I, Dorsan; I want to talk with you.”</p> - -<p>For some seconds he did not reply, and when he did I knew by his voice -that he was not gratified by my call.<a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a></p> - -<p>“What! is it you, my dear neighbor?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s I.”</p> - -<p>“What brings you here so early?”</p> - -<p>“You shall learn; but first let me in; I don’t like to talk through a -door.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon—you see, I’m in my nightshirt.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! what difference does it make to me, whether you’re in your -nightshirt, or naked, or fully dressed? I have no desire to examine your -person. Open the door! then you can go back to bed; that won’t interfere -with my talking to you.”</p> - -<p>“You see, I passed most of the night writing birthday rhymes; and I am -still sleepy.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! morbleu! Monsieur Raymond, open the door, or I’ll break it down!”</p> - -<p>The tone in which I uttered the last words indicated a purpose to carry -out my threat. He did not wait for me to repeat it, but opened the door, -and, running back through his little reception room, jumped into bed, -where he wrapped himself up in the bedclothes, leaving nothing exposed -but his nose and his great eyes, which he turned from side to side with -an air of uneasiness, not venturing to look at me. I followed; the first -thing I saw on entering his bedroom was a dozen or more bunches of -orange blossoms, like those Nicette used to leave at my door; they were -symmetrically arranged on my neighbor’s dressing table. That sight tore -my heart, but I had promised myself to be philosophical, so I sat down -beside Raymond’s bed and tried to speak very calmly.</p> - -<p>“How are you this morning, Monsieur Raymond?”</p> - -<p>He gazed at me in amazement.</p> - -<p>“Was it to inquire about my health that you broke my bellrope and -threatened to break down my door?<a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you must know that that was a joke! I had a question I wanted to -ask you.—You have some very pretty bouquets there; it seems that you -too are fond of orange blossoms?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; I like their odor very much; it’s good for the nerves, and I -am very nervous, you know.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a bond of sympathy between us, for these bouquets bear a -surprising resemblance to those that adorn my bedroom—and for which you -once expressed your admiration.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s true; indeed, I remember now that that was what gave me the -idea of having some myself.”</p> - -<p>“And are your flower dealer and mine the same?”</p> - -<p>He did not know what to say, and his head disappeared for a moment under -the bedclothes.</p> - -<p>“Well, neighbor?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I haven’t any regular flower dealer; I go sometimes to one, -sometimes to another.”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, Monsieur Raymond, why fence with me; is this the confidence -of which you claim to set me an example? Are you afraid of making me -angry? Don’t be afraid; I ceased to think about little Nicette a long -while ago.”</p> - -<p>At that, he took his whole head out from beneath the bedclothes, and -looked at me with a surprised and pleased expression.</p> - -<p>“What! do you mean it? you have ceased to think about the little flower -girl?”</p> - -<p>“I never thought about her!”</p> - -<p>“Well! do you know, I almost suspected as much! Besides, we have Madame -de Marsan, who must occupy a good deal of our attention!<a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Never mind Madame de Marsan; tell me about your intrigue with Nicette.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it isn’t a long story! I confess that I am madly in love with her! -You know how pretty she is!”</p> - -<p>“A saucy face!”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! saucy! you call her saucy! you are hard to please.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“I go to make love to her almost every night. At first she was a little -inclined to be wild; but I was so skilful at wheedling her, that now she -can’t get along without me, and I am sure that she adores me.”</p> - -<p>“Has she told you so?”</p> - -<p>“Almost; besides, those things don’t need to be told; they can be seen. -I know women so well!”</p> - -<p>“You are more fortunate than I. So you have triumphed?”</p> - -<p>“Not altogether as yet; but it won’t be long, I am getting ahead very -fast. Look you, with women, just be assiduous, persistent, and -agreeable, and you can be sure of victory! Oh! I’m a crafty dog, I am, a -finished roué! A man must be that, to please the women. Sentiment, -sighs, tender words, those were all right once; nowadays, at the first -meeting, you inflame; at the second, you toy; at the third, you take a -kiss—pinch the knee, squeeze her, and she is yours.”</p> - -<p>I could not restrain an angry movement.</p> - -<p>“And this is the man she loves!” I said, rising abruptly.</p> - -<p>Raymond, terrified by my action, had buried himself anew under the -bedclothes.</p> - -<p>“Do you still have nervous paroxysms?” he cried, without showing his -face.<a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a></p> - -<p>“No, no, I’m all right. Adieu, Monsieur Raymond! be happy; and, above -all things, make Nicette happy.”</p> - -<p>With that, I left him, returned to my own room, and locked the door. -There I could at least give free vent to the passions which agitated me, -and which I had had the strength to restrain in Raymond’s presence. My -heart was torn by love, jealousy, anger, and the most profound -melancholy in turn. I tried to regain my self-control and to overcome a -weakness at which I blushed; then I went out. For a week I courted the -distractions of society and abandoned myself to what men call pleasure. -But those things that once attracted me no longer had the slightest -charm for me. I went to the theatre, to balls, concerts, the most -brilliant parties; everywhere I was bored and discontented; wherever I -went, I carried in the depths of my heart a melancholy, a depression -which I could not overcome.</p> - -<p>I was always delighted to go home; I was happier there; I sought new -suffering in my memories; but that very suffering had a charm for me -which I failed to find in society. But if I wished to forget <i>her</i>, I -must needs leave those lodgings. How could I fail to think of her in -that room, on that bed where she had slept! everything there reminded me -of her and fed my love for her. I felt that I must go away; that I must -leave Paris, where life had become unendurable to me. Distance, change -of scene, and time, which, they say, triumphs over everything,—those -were the remedies with which I must treat the insane passion that held -sway in my heart. I would go to see my sister; she had ceased to expect -me, but she would be none the less glad to see me; at all events, I -should find there people who loved me. It seemed to me that that would -do me good. My<a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a> preparations were soon made. I locked the door of my -lodgings, which I retained, although I was resolved never to occupy them -again. I forbade Madame Dupont to let anyone enter except herself; she -was to take care of them. I paid two quarters’ rent in advance, and -started for my sister’s.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII<br /><br /> -<small>LIFE IN THE PROVINCES</small></h2> - -<p>I arrived in due time at the country estate where my sister ordinarily -passed the whole year. From a distance I saw that the window shutters -were closed. Could they be travelling? She surely would have written me. -I rang the bell at the gateway; the gardener admitted me and informed me -that Monsieur and Madame Déneterre had gone to Melun for the winter, and -that they came into the country on fine Sundays only. As the city was -only two or three miles distant, I set out on foot. It was beginning to -be dark, but there was a moon. On the way, I tried to imagine what had -induced my dear relations to change their mode of life. They used never -to leave their country house; but they had been married a number of -years, and they probably were beginning to find that they had not so -much to say to each other. Then the winter evenings seemed long to them, -I supposed, so it occurred to them to try passing them in town. That is -the way such fine plans for the future always end! Is there anything on -earth that is beyond the reach of the effects of time?<a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a></p> - -<p>I came in sight of the first houses of Melun, a pretty little town, -where I used to enjoy myself immensely in the old days; I should surely -find it delightful, now that Paris was unendurable to me. This much was -certain, that change of scene necessarily causes distraction, and -distraction is the very best remedy for pains of the heart and mind. -Besides, I was no Werther; I had no inclination to nourish my love and -my sorrow in dense forests, or on the brink of a precipice. On the -contrary, I was trying to cure myself; that is the most sensible course; -less romantic, it is true, but more in accordance with nature; and I am -all for the natural.</p> - -<p>I inquired my sister’s address. I walked through a part of the town, -which would be its Faubourg Saint-Germain, and I soon found the -Déneterre mansion. In the provinces a family generally occupies a whole -house, whereas in Paris three families often live on the same floor. I -confess that it is pleasanter to be alone in your house, to be able to -do whatever you choose without fear of annoying your neighbors, to be -spared the necessity of meeting repulsive faces, insolent servants, and -snarling children on the stairs, to find no marks of a dog or cat on -your doormat, when for cleanliness’ sake you keep no animals yourself; -and lastly, to be able to dismiss your concierge when he is -disrespectful, whereas in Paris you must bribe him, no matter how -insolent he may be, at the risk of passing the night in the street or at -the police station, because, in the company of your friends, you have -forgotten to keep watch of the time. These are some notable advantages -of the provinces over the capital.</p> - -<p>My sister uttered a cry of surprise and delight when she saw me; she -threw her arms round my neck and kissed me.<a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a></p> - -<p>“Is it really you, dear Eugène?” she said. “In truth, I didn’t expect to -see you before next spring. Ah! it’s very sweet of you to remember your -best friends at last.”</p> - -<p>I did not tell her that nothing but the desire to avoid Nicette had -driven me from Paris; there was no need of that; besides, I preferred to -be spared the comments of my dear Amélie, who was something of a gossip, -which one is sure to be when one lives in the provinces, where there is -not enough to do to keep people from meddling with their neighbors’ -affairs.</p> - -<p>My sister sent for her husband, who had gone to play billiards with some -friends.</p> - -<p>“So he no longer passes all his evenings at home?” I asked Amélie.</p> - -<p>“Oh! my dear, the evenings are very long in winter, and one must do -something. In the provinces, gambling is the general rule; one must -needs conform to it and do as others do.”</p> - -<p>“That is true; it is what I have always thought, and what I told you at -the time of your marriage, when you were laying out a scheme of life -which resembled nothing ever heard of. You told me that I was a -heedless, foolish fellow, because I laughed at your plans of seclusion, -and of the happiness you were to enjoy in solitude; and now you have -abandoned that solitude!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! only for the winter; for in winter the country is very dismal; you -see nobody, you can’t walk or drive. Everybody flocks to the town, where -they give receptions, play cards, dance sometimes—in short, enjoy -themselves. That’s why we came. What would you have? we must do as -others do.”</p> - -<p>“Why, it seems perfectly natural to me. At all events, you are happy, -aren’t you?<a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear, very happy! My husband is the best of men; a little -obstinate, to be sure, and not always willing to listen to me when I -prove to him that I am right. The result is that we dispute sometimes; -but that’s nothing!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! besides, we must do as others do, must we not?”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t kissed my children yet, my two little boys; they are -charming little fellows, perfect demons! But bright! you may judge for -yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Where are they?”</p> - -<p>“They’re in bed; it’s nearly eight o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“We mustn’t wake them.”</p> - -<p>“No; you shall see them to-morrow. It’s more than a year since you came -to see us—fifteen months at least! They have grown tremendously in that -time! The older one is four now, and the younger three. You can tell us -whom they look like.”</p> - -<p>Déneterre’s appearance interrupted our conversation. My brother-in-law -manifested great pleasure at my arrival; he embraced me with sincere -cordiality, urged me to pass the winter with them at Melun, and I saw in -his eyes that his heart agreed with his lips; I noticed simply that when -he came in he had in his hands a billiard cue, which he stood in a -corner. We talked business and the news of Paris for a moment. Déneterre -was in good spirits; his cotton mill was prosperous, his business was in -excellent shape, he hoped to be able to retire and live on his income in -a few years.</p> - -<p>While we were talking, Amélie went in and out, gave orders, had a room -made ready for me, invited me to take something before supper.</p> - -<p>“I never take supper,” I said.<a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a></p> - -<p>“You must do it here, my dear; it’s one of the customs of the province, -and it’s not disagreeable, I assure you.”</p> - -<p>“All right; I’ll take supper when I am hungry.”</p> - -<p>“Speaking of eating,” said Déneterre, “where are the children? Why don’t -they come to kiss their uncle?”</p> - -<p>“They’re in bed, my dear,” said Amélie.</p> - -<p>“In bed, already! why, that’s ridiculous! You put them to bed too -early.”</p> - -<p>“Their health requires it.”</p> - -<p>“Boys don’t need to sleep so much.”</p> - -<p>“Boys who run about and play all day must need rest when night comes.”</p> - -<p>“No matter; I want them to come to kiss their uncle.”</p> - -<p>“They can do it just as well to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p>“To-morrow! to-morrow! that won’t be the same thing at all. I’m going to -get them.”</p> - -<p>“What! wake them up! upon my word! I would like to see you—just to make -them sick.”</p> - -<p>“You’re the one who makes them sick, making them sleep like dormice.”</p> - -<p>“At this rate, I shan’t have anything to say about my own children.”</p> - -<p>“They are boys; it’s my place to train them.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand anything about it; besides, it isn’t my fault that -they’re not girls.”</p> - -<p>As I saw that the discussion was becoming warm, I made haste to change -the subject by taking the billiard cue and handing it to Déneterre.</p> - -<p>“Is this cue yours?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; it’s a prize cue that I won at pool not long ago.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! so you play pool, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Every night; I am a very good hand at it.<a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Very well; go and finish your game. No ceremony between us, you know. -Besides, I am tired and am going to bed.”</p> - -<p>“Until to-morrow, then,” said Déneterre, taking his prize cue eagerly; -“you must join us to-morrow, and you will see what progress I’ve made -since last year, especially since I have been using a patent cue.”</p> - -<p>Déneterre left us, and Amélie took me to my room, showing me on the way -a large part of the house, and telling me in detail all that she had -lately had done to it, and the further improvements that she had in -view. I noticed in my sister’s conversation something of the tone of the -old gentleman with whom I had dined at Madame de Marsan’s country house, -and who dilated so complacently on the details of his barnyard and -hencoop. But I began to understand that the story of the birth of a -chicken and the education of a rabbit might be of great interest to -people who had nothing else to do.</p> - -<p>In the course of our conversation, I asked my sister if she often had -disputes with her husband.</p> - -<p>“Disputes!” she exclaimed, with a surprised look; “why, we never have -any.”</p> - -<p>“I thought that just now——”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you call that a dispute! why, my dear boy, that was nothing at all; -we have a hundred little arguments like that during the day; but they’re -not disputes! You see, when two people live together, it’s very hard to -be always of the same opinion.”</p> - -<p>“I should think that it would be more agreeable.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s impossible! Ah! my dear Eugène, anyone can see that you’re a -bachelor! you know nothing at all about married life; but before long I -hope that you will<a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a> know all the joys of marriage, of which you have no -conception now.”</p> - -<p>“No; I agree that I have no conception of them.”</p> - -<p>“Patience, it will come in time. Good-night, dear Eugène; until -to-morrow!”</p> - -<p>My sister left me, and I went to bed reflecting on the manner of life of -which Amélie and her husband had just given me a specimen; and yet it -was a delightful household, so everybody said. This much was -certain—that my sister was virtuous, and true to her husband, and that -Déneterre was very fond of his wife and children. Why, then, those -frequent disputes?—I saw that my sister was right: I had undertaken to -argue about conjugal happiness, and I did not know what it was. I -concluded that the best thing I could do was to go to sleep.</p> - -<p>The journey had tired me, but the sight of my sister and her husband had -diverted my thoughts from my grief, for all troubles yield at last to -time and to distraction. I fell asleep in a more tranquil frame of mind -than I had known for a long while; and I should doubtless have slept -well into the forenoon, if my dear nephews had not taken it upon -themselves to wake me. At seven o’clock I heard a great noise in my -room; I felt somebody pulling my leg and my arm; I opened my eyes and -saw my sister’s two children, who had climbed on my bed and were amusing -themselves by playing tricks and tumbling all over me. While I, still -half asleep, gazed vacantly at them, I heard a roar of laughter behind -me; I drew the curtain aside and discovered Déneterre seated a few feet -from the bed and laughing at my surprise.</p> - -<p>“Well!” he said; “here they are; what do you think of them?<a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Why, they are in excellent condition, so far as I can see.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t they fine boys?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I’ll make hearty little chaps of them, I tell you! They’re such -merry, lively rascals!”</p> - -<p>“So I see; just tell them not to pinch me so hard. Here’s one of them -who won’t let go my calf.”</p> - -<p>“It’s only play, my dear fellow. They wake me like this every morning. -Tell me, is there any greater pleasure?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to a father, it must be perfectly charming; but to an uncle, you -see, it hasn’t quite the same fascination.”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! it rests entirely with you to become acquainted with that -pleasure; marry, and have children; they’ll caress you as these little -fellows caress me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I shall do it some day, no doubt.”</p> - -<p>“Come, my hearties, kiss your uncle and let him dress.”</p> - -<p>To prove their affection, the “hearties” threw themselves on my stomach, -seized my head, and, while kissing me, rubbed their faces clean and -wiped their noses on my cheeks and nose; they tried to see which would -kiss me the more. I was suffocating, I cried for mercy; their papa was -forced to order them to desist, but they listened to him no more than to -me, and kept on as before. Luckily, my sister arrived and the scene -changed.</p> - -<p>“What!” she exclaimed, striding angrily toward her husband; “you brought -the children to their uncle before I had washed and dressed them and -combed their hair?”</p> - -<p>“Well! what of that, my dear love? must they be in their Sunday best to -bid their uncle good-morning?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t a question of Sunday best; but I should have liked Eugène to -see them first when they were decently<a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a> clean; and when they have once -begun to play, it isn’t possible to keep them looking decent. But you do -everything without consulting me!”</p> - -<p>“I assure you, my dear sister, that I consider them very nice as they -are.”</p> - -<p>“Come, young gentlemen, breakfast is waiting.”</p> - -<p>The word <i>breakfast</i> caused my little rascals to decamp at once; they -were soon off my bed, and I was able to rise.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that examples of wedded bliss succeeded each other -rather swiftly under my sister’s roof. But I was inclined to think that, -if I should marry, I should not take them as patterns in the matter of -bringing up children. But I had arrived only the night before, and it -was fair to wait before forming a final judgment.</p> - -<p>I went downstairs and joined the family in the dining room. While we -breakfasted, Amélie and her husband described their daily life to me. In -the morning, business, housekeeping, and a walk when they had any time -to themselves; in the evening, Déneterre went to the café to play pool, -while his wife dressed to go out. Every evening in the week was taken: -Monday, at the notary’s, a small and select party. The most notable of -the townspeople met there. There was little card playing, but much -political discussion, and one could learn there the news of all the -cabinets in Europe; the interests of each of the powers were discussed, -and the <i>Moniteur</i> was read aloud. Tuesdays, at the house of a retired -merchant; he was a rich man and entertained handsomely: beer, cake, and -sweetened water flavored with orange. The play was for very high stakes: -boston for six <i>blancs</i>, and écarté for five sous; the bets sometimes -went as high as seventy-five centimes! But all games were played<a name="page_331" id="page_331"></a> there; -whist and boston with great skill. No one called for six tricks unless -he had eight, or stood unless he held an <i>indépendance</i>; so that it was -very unusual to see a <i>remise</i> in the course of the evening. Wednesdays, -the evening was spent with the widow of the justice’s clerk, who had -four daughters to marry and no money to give them. There they played -innocent games or acted charades or proverbs. In the first place, those -games do not wear out cards, and require fewer candles; in the second -place, the young men soon become well acquainted with the young ladies -while playing such games. They talk and laugh together; and many a -passion has had its birth in crambo, or the little box of <i>amourettes</i>. -While whispering a <i>confidence</i>, one can easily put in a word of love; -while pretending to sulk, one can say many things! That is the way more -than one marriage is made; and when one has four daughters to look -after, no means should be neglected. However, everything was all right -at the widow’s; the games were carried on with the strictest decorum, -and blind-man’s-buff seated was prohibited. Thursdays, the meetings were -at an ex-councillor’s. Everybody was not received there; only the cream -of society. The guests were forbidden to talk politics, war, affairs of -state, or newspaper rumors. There was no card playing, because that was -a bad example for the young; there was no dancing, because madame la -conseillère, who was old but coquettish, could never obtain a partner; -there were no charades, because they disturb the orderly arrangement of -a salon, and may result in marring the furniture and tearing curtains; -there were no innocent games, because the councillor considered them -indecorous; there were no refreshments, because well-bred people never -need anything of the sort. With these<a name="page_332" id="page_332"></a> restrictions, one could say and -do whatever one chose, and, of course, enjoy one’s self immensely. On -Fridays they met at the house of an elector, whose wife, who was young -and pretty, followed all the fashions of the capital. There you did -whatever you chose; no restraint, no ceremony. Dancing was permitted, -and singing, when anyone desired to sing. Sometimes there was -instrumental music, because there was a piano. All sorts of games were -played, from loto to chess; and you could risk a sou or a louis at your -pleasure. Everybody said what came into his head; they laughed and joked -and talked as they liked; opinions were free; almost all the newspapers -were to be found there, and all sorts of refreshments were provided. It -was after the style of the receptions in the Chaussée d’Antin at Paris.</p> - -<p>On Saturdays—ah! that was the day when they all met at my sister’s.</p> - -<p>“You will see what fun we have,” she said to me; “such a noise, such -<i>go</i>! You can’t hear what anyone says, but we laugh, and everyone tries -to be merrier than the rest. Why, sometimes the time passes so quickly, -that they are still here at half-past ten!”</p> - -<p>“Half-past ten in the morning?”</p> - -<p>“Why, no! in the evening. Are you mad?”</p> - -<p>“Do you call that late?”</p> - -<p>“I should say so! the custom is to go home at ten o’clock precisely.”</p> - -<p>“Great heaven! I am no longer surprised that your children wake you up -at seven o’clock! But on Sundays?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! on Sundays we meet at monsieur le maire’s. There are always a lot -of people there. He has a billiard table, and, besides that, the young -people dance. You<a name="page_333" id="page_333"></a> can judge for yourself what fun we have. That, my -dear Eugène, is the way we employ the week. As you see, there is some -new pleasure every day, and we have no time to be bored.”</p> - -<p>“You have no theatrical performances?”</p> - -<p>“Very seldom; but we get along without them.”</p> - -<p>“No concerts?”</p> - -<p>“Why, what about those we give among ourselves? And then, in fine -weather, there are the drives about the neighborhood, which are -beautiful: the little forest of La Rochette, Trois-Moulins, and a -thousand delicious spots. And fishing and hunting, and the news of the -town; the little intrigues that everybody knows about after a week, the -quarrels, the gossip, the comments, the fashions, which we think about -here even more than they do in Paris; and the parties, dinners, -baptisms, weddings; ah! the weddings above all! they give us something -to talk about for a month!—Oh! you’ll see, my dear brother, that we -have a much better time in the provinces than they do in Paris.”</p> - -<p>My sister did not interrupt her enumeration of the pleasures of -provincial life until she saw her husband giving coffee to the little -boys, when a slight discussion ensued.</p> - -<p>“Why do you give those children coffee? it won’t do them any good.”</p> - -<p>“Bah!”</p> - -<p>“It excites them.”</p> - -<p>“Bah!”</p> - -<p>“And then, they don’t sleep at night.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! bah!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how you tire me with your <i>bah! bah!</i> I tell you, I don’t want them -to drink it!<a name="page_334" id="page_334"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Just a drop.”</p> - -<p>“It makes no difference.”</p> - -<p>“It’s three-fourths milk.”</p> - -<p>“If there were twice as much, it would make no difference.—Come here, -messieurs, and don’t drink any more.”</p> - -<p>“I want some more!”</p> - -<p>“Here, my boy, drink this.”</p> - -<p>“Will you obey me this minute!”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, let them alone.”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t want them to drink it.”</p> - -<p>And my sister seized the cup, her husband held fast to it, and the -children squealed. Luckily, between them the cup was broken and the -coffee spilled, which fact put an end to this scene of domestic bliss, -to which I found it difficult to accustom myself. The day was employed -in showing me the town and taking me to see my sister’s intimate -acquaintances. I let her take me wherever she wished; I was so -complaisant and docile that she was enchanted. She found me much more -staid and reasonable than at my last visit.</p> - -<p>After dinner, Déneterre took me to play a game of pool at his café; then -we went home to get my sister to go to a reception. It was Thursday, -unluckily for me. I had fallen upon the ex-councillor’s day, and I saw -none but cold, forbidding faces, and stiff, formal figures. Fortunately, -the guests did not arrive until half-past eight and left at a quarter to -ten, so that the soirée lasted only an hour and a quarter; the first -third was occupied in salutations and reverences, the second in -exchanging commonplaces and nodding the head in assent, and the last in -yawns, concealed with the hand, the handkerchief, or the snuffbox.<a name="page_335" id="page_335"></a></p> - -<p>The next evening belonged to the elector; it compensated me to some -extent for the boredom of the preceding one. I found there several -pretty women and a little less formality and more merriment. In the -course of a week I ran the whole gamut of receptions and knew the whole -town. I was well received everywhere; I was rich and unmarried: that was -more than was necessary to assure me a warm welcome.</p> - -<p>I began to become accustomed to the conjugal discussions, and to the -pranks of my nephews, who were little demons in very truth. I saw that, -taking everything together, my sister and her husband were happy; in the -finest weather of one’s life storms may arise; a picture must have -shadows to bring out the lights. Their little quarrels did not prevent -their loving each other, and their children’s defects were graces in -their eyes. However, I hoped that, if I ever married, I should have -fewer petty <i>discussions</i> with my wife, and I resolved to bring up my -children in an entirely different way; but perhaps I should have -troubles which my sister and her husband had never known.</p> - -<p>I had been in the province a fortnight. I cannot say that I enjoyed -myself exactly, but at least I was not discontented. The novelty of the -life, the original faces that I saw every night, my sister’s affection -and her husband’s—all these served to divert my thoughts; time produced -its inevitable effect, my melancholy disappeared, and I became what I -used to be. However, I had not entirely forgotten Nicette; I felt that I -still loved her; but when the thought of her came to my mind, I had the -strength to put it aside, and I imposed silence on my heart.</p> - -<p>I would have been glad to fall in love anew—were it only a caprice, one -of those flames which used to set me<a name="page_336" id="page_336"></a> on fire so quickly; perhaps that -would cure me entirely. But long for it as I would, I could not compel -any such feeling! I looked about me; I saw some good-looking women, some -few faces formed to please; but I saw nobody who resembled Nicette.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX<br /><br /> -<small>MADEMOISELLE PÉLAGIE.—A SCHEME TO MARRY ME</small></h2> - -<p>My sister, who was really a most excellent woman,—due allowance being -made for her tendency to be a little obstinate,—was overjoyed that I -had ceased to speak of returning to Paris. She had no mercy on herself -in her endeavors to procure for me what she called new pleasures every -day. She would have been so delighted to induce me to settle at Melun! -From time to time, she would ask my opinion concerning the young women I -had seen the night before; she would dilate in great detail upon the -virtues, talents, and amiable qualities of each one of them; then she -would extol the pleasures of wedded life, the joy of having children, -which, however, did not prevent her shrieking after her boys the next -moment, and disputing with her husband; but it was understood that those -were among the joys of wedded life. Ah! my dear sister! I saw what you -were driving at! you had gone back to your favorite idea; you were -determined, in short, that I should do as others did, for that was your -constant refrain. And then, to negotiate the marriage of one’s brother -is an affair of such vast importance in a small town!—What<a name="page_337" id="page_337"></a> an -exhaustless source of interviews, confidential communications, visits, -parties, new dresses—and, therefore, of pleasure!</p> - -<p>For some time I did not allow myself to be tempted. However, I was -beginning to believe that one might as well do as others do, especially -when one has lost that desire to flutter about the fair sex, that -longing for every pretty woman, which is so natural to young men. There -was only one for whom I had had any longing, for many weeks past—but -she had deceived me, so I must needs forget her as well as the rest.</p> - -<p>I had noticed for several days that my sister seemed even more content -than usual; I often saw her whispering with Déneterre, who in the end -always did what she wanted him to. They extolled still more warmly the -joys of wedlock, but they said nothing more about any of the young women -I had already seen; they evidently had some new hope; no doubt, I should -soon learn what was in the wind.</p> - -<p>“I shall try to make myself look very nice to-night,” said Amélie one -day. “You will go with me, won’t you, dear Eugène? It’s Madame Lépine’s -evening,—she was the elector’s wife,—and they say there’ll be a good -many people there.”</p> - -<p>“But I seem to see the same persons every time.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! there’ll be some new faces for you to-night; Madame de -Pontchartrain has returned from her place in the country, and she will -be there.”</p> - -<p>“Who is this Madame de Pontchartrain?”</p> - -<p>“A most respectable person, who has an income of seven thousand francs -and is seventy years old.”</p> - -<p>Very respectable, no doubt; but I could not see why I should be -especially interested in Madame de<a name="page_338" id="page_338"></a> Pontchartrain. Doubtless I should -learn the answer to the enigma in the evening.</p> - -<p>After dinner madame set about dressing. I had thought that Parisian -women were coquettes, but since I had lived in the provinces I had -learned to do justice to the belles of the capital, who passed two hours -less before their mirrors than the beauties of a small town. Déneterre -went off to play pool, and I walked in the garden while my sister was -dressing; for the first time I was vexed by her slowness; I was in a -hurry to arrive at Madame Lépine’s—I, who ordinarily accompanied my -sister solely to oblige her; but one sometimes has presentiments.</p> - -<p>My sister was ready at last; Déneterre returned, and we started. We soon -reached our destination; in a small town no two houses are far apart. We -were announced in due form; for in the provinces you may not enter a -salon in good society without being announced. I glanced around at the -guests and saw no unfamiliar faces. I was almost angry; but while Madame -Lépine was arranging the different games, I saw my sister go to her and -heard her say:</p> - -<p>“My brother won’t play cards to-night; don’t count on him for boston or -reversis; he prefers the games.”</p> - -<p>I had not said anything of the sort to her; what did it mean, that she -took that step without consulting me? I was just on the point of -demanding an explanation, when the servant announced:</p> - -<p>“Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece.”</p> - -<p>Aha! there was a niece! I began to understand. All eyes turned toward -the door; I did like everybody else, and I saw a tall, thin, angular, -yellow-skinned woman, who, despite her age, held herself very erect and -seemed to have retained all the vivacity of youth; that was the<a name="page_339" id="page_339"></a> aunt; -let us say no more of her, but give our attention to the niece.</p> - -<p>A flattering murmur ran about the salon as she entered. In truth, she -was very pretty; of medium height, but well set up; and if she was a -little stiff in her carriage, it was the result of her training. Her -features were regular, complexion rosy, hair very beautiful, and eyes -very large; as for their color, I could not as yet discover it, for she -kept them fixed on the floor.</p> - -<p>While Madame Lépine went to meet Madame de Pontchartrain and her niece, -and all the young women whispered together as they scrutinized the -newcomer, in whom they were undoubtedly seeking defects which they would -speedily find,—for women are very skilful in detecting at a glance -anything disadvantageous to their rivals,—I noticed that my sister -looked furtively at me, trying to read in my eyes the impression that -Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain had produced on my heart.</p> - -<p>Ah! my poor Amélie! my heart was perfectly calm!—calm, do I say? alas, -no! it was not calm as yet, but it was not that young woman who excited -it. I wished that it were; she was very pretty; she might well attract -any man, and I should have been delighted to love her.</p> - -<p>The niece’s name was Pélagie; I heard her called so by her aunt, who had -taken her seat at a whist table from which she would not stir until it -was time to go home. She urged her niece to enjoy herself, to be less -shy; Pélagie blushed, and replied very gently:</p> - -<p>“Yes, aunt.”</p> - -<p>The young woman seemed to be the personification of innocence.</p> - -<p>Madame Lépine took possession of Mademoiselle Pélagie and led her to the -circle formed for the games.<a name="page_340" id="page_340"></a> I took my place by her side; I was curious -to make the acquaintance of that young novice. I noticed that all the -other young women watched me when they saw me place my chair beside -Pélagie’s; jealousy and spite were blazing in their eyes already! In the -provinces, people are so quick to interpret the slightest action, the -slightest indication of preference! But it mattered little to me what -they thought; I was at liberty to do whatever I chose.</p> - -<p>How uncharitable young women are to one another! Those who came -regularly to the receptions enjoyed the bashfulness and embarrassment of -the newcomer, and tried to intensify them by putting the most difficult -questions to her in the games and making her do what was likely to -confuse her most. I detected their petty malice, and I tried to put -Mademoiselle Pélagie more at her ease. Once she attempted to thank me, -and began a sentence the end of which I did not hear; but she raised her -eyes an instant, and I was able to see that they were of a very tender -shade of blue, and sweet in expression.</p> - -<p>Madame Lépine, who was a very amiable person and did her best to -entertain her guests, asked Madame de Pontchartrain if her niece was -musical.</p> - -<p>“Yes, madame,” the old aunt replied; “Pélagie sings, and accompanies -herself on the piano.”</p> - -<p>Immediately all the young women begged Pélagie to sing them something. -They hoped to find food for criticism. Pélagie demurred very awkwardly; -she glanced at her aunt, who gave her a look which clearly signified -<i>sing</i>; whereupon she rose; I escorted her to the piano and offered to -accompany her.</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur,” she said; “I will play my own accompaniment.<a name="page_341" id="page_341"></a>”</p> - -<p>Surely any other woman would have thanked me in a different way; but -Pélagie was innocence itself, and I saw that she had not learned to -embellish her speeches.</p> - -<p>She sang us an old ballad in six stanzas. The subject was love; but no -one would have suspected it from listening to Pélagie, who imparted -absolutely no expression to her voice or to the instrument. Any Parisian -girl, even when fresh from her boarding school, would have played and -sung much better than that; she would have rolled her eyes gracefully, -whereas this one did not lift them from the keys; she would have put -some soul into the words of love, whereas this one repeated them as -coldly as possible. The comparison at the first blush seemed unfavorable -to Pélagie; but when I reflected that that which prevented her from -performing more brilliantly proved her innocence and virtue, I -considered that her awkwardness was entirely to her credit.</p> - -<p>My sister was enraptured. She saw me sit beside Pélagie, speak to her -often, escort her to the piano, and take her back to her chair. That was -more than was necessary to indicate the birth of love; and, of course, -it would naturally end in marriage.</p> - -<p>The party came to an end; everybody took their leave; but Amélie found -an opportunity to present me to the great-aunt, who honored me with an -almost affable glance. As I went downstairs, I found myself beside -Pélagie; I could not do otherwise than offer her my hand. She looked at -her aunt; a glance authorized her to accept, and she held out her hand -as awkwardly as possible. I was careful to touch only the tips of her -fingers; I had fallen in with the manners and customs of the town. -However, the ladies lived only a few steps away; so we soon reached -their house, where we left them after the<a name="page_342" id="page_342"></a> three conventional bows; I -observed, by the way, that Pélagie was very proficient in the matter of -courtesies.</p> - -<p>When we reached home, Amélie turned the conversation upon Mademoiselle -Pélagie; I expected it, and I let her talk with her husband. They vied -with each other in extolling her to the skies.</p> - -<p>“She’s a charming girl!”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, she’s the prettiest girl in Melun!”</p> - -<p>“And so perfectly well bred!”</p> - -<p>“Wonderfully so! a strict education; but what manners! what decorous -behavior in company!”</p> - -<p>“She is innocence personified.”</p> - -<p>“She’s an excellent musician.”</p> - -<p>“And no one would suspect it, because she makes no pretensions.”</p> - -<p>“Her aunt has no other heir; she’s an excellent match!”</p> - -<p>“The man who gets her won’t make a bad speculation!”</p> - -<p>“And he can be sure of his wife’s virtue.”</p> - -<p>Annoyed by my silence, my sister addressed herself to me at last.</p> - -<p>“Well, Eugène, tell us what you think of Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain.”</p> - -<p>“My dear girl, what do you expect me to add to your eulogies of her?”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you of our opinion?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, pretty nearly.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you don’t choose to admit it, but I saw well enough that you -thought her pretty.”</p> - -<p>“Pretty; to be sure she is.”</p> - -<p>“And well bred.”</p> - -<p>“As to that, I think so, but——”</p> - -<p>“In short, she pleased you, my dear brother?<a name="page_343" id="page_343"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Pleased me! oh! come now! I haven’t said anything to prove——”</p> - -<p>“But I can’t see why it isn’t perfectly natural. Surely your lady -friends in Paris can’t resemble the charming Pélagie?”</p> - -<p>“Resemble her! Oh! as to that, I agree with you absolutely.”</p> - -<p>Amélie seemed quite content; in vain did I tell her that she was -mistaken; she was persuaded that I was in love with Pélagie. Déneterre -kept repeating that it would be an excellent match; and as I could not -make them stop talking, I adopted the expedient of going to bed.</p> - -<p>For several days nothing unusual disturbed the even tenor of life under -my sister’s roof. Every evening I went with her to some reception; for -when I attempted to stay behind, she always found some way to make me do -as she wished. So that I saw Mademoiselle Pélagie every evening, for she -accompanied her aunt, who never failed to be on hand for her game of -whist or reversis, which she even played in the morning, with three -dowagers who had done nothing else for fifteen years, and in whose eyes -their game was of such importance that one wept when her king was -trumped, and another fell ill because she had discarded the knave of -hearts.</p> - -<p>Pélagie took part in the minor games, but she continued to be as shy and -embarrassed as on the first day I saw her. As she was very pretty, the -other young ladies had no mercy on her. Some of the young lady killers -of the town undertook to make to her the pretty, gallant speeches which -men of wit no longer venture to use, because they are too trite. But the -wit of the dandies of Melun seemed to make no impression on Pélagie’s -mind; she listened very coldly to their compliments, and made no other -reply<a name="page_344" id="page_344"></a> than a low bow. The young men, vexed to produce so little effect, -went elsewhere to play the butterfly. I alone remained true to -Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain, and I alone obtained from her replies not -quite so laconic. To be sure, I paid her no embarrassing compliments, -and placed myself on her level by talking with her of the simplest -subjects. She seemed a little less timid with me; she began to raise her -eyes when she answered me; and twice I fancied that she actually smiled -at me. Decidedly I was a favored mortal.</p> - -<p>The novelty of this method of making love amused and distracted me. My -heart was still perfectly tranquil in Pélagie’s presence; and yet, since -I had known her I had thought less of Nicette. The young innocent filled -my thoughts, and, while I had no love for her, I liked to be with her; -her pretty face did no harm, but her shyness and her artlessness -attracted me even more.</p> - -<p>My sister had ceased to talk about her, but I saw she was well pleased. -The great-aunt treated me very affably; she interrupted her game -sometimes to inquire for my health; which fact indicated the -extraordinary favor with which she regarded me. The young ladies, it -must be said, no longer evinced the same interest in me, manifested much -less pleasure at my arrival, and did not make me pay a forfeit at the -kissing stage of their games; but as I attached no value to the -privilege, I paid no heed to their indifference. The mammas whispered to -one another as they looked at me, while the papas smiled slyly at me; -everything indicated that a great event was expected; I was perhaps the -only one who gave no thought at all to the subject with which the whole -town was agog.</p> - -<p>Déneterre was the first to open my eyes.<a name="page_345" id="page_345"></a></p> - -<p>“When’s the wedding to be?” he asked me one evening, rubbing his hands.</p> - -<p>“What’s that? what wedding?”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! yours!”</p> - -<p>“Mine! with whom, pray?”</p> - -<p>“With whom! with whom! Ah! you choose to be close-mouthed! But we have -eyes, my dear fellow, and we know what to think.”</p> - -<p>“But I believe I have eyes, too, and I have seen nothing to imply——”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, my dear Eugène,” interposed my sister, “why pretend any -longer with us, your best friends? You love Pélagie; what do I say? love -her? you adore her; I am sure of it. The whole town knows it, too; it’s -no longer a mystery.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! the whole town knows that——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear. And the young woman has shown her preference for you; -that also is very easy to see: moreover, no one should claim to cut you -out. The aunt considers you a very suitable match; she knew our mother -and she thinks a great deal of our family. When her niece is married, -she will settle three thousand francs a year on her, and leave her the -rest of her property at her death. It seems to me that that is not to be -despised; with what you have now, you will be in comfortable -circumstances, and you will make a charming couple. Tell me, when do you -want me to go to ask for her hand?”</p> - -<p>I listened to my sister, and I admit that I was greatly surprised by -what I heard. However, on mature reflection, I realized that my conduct, -which would never have been noticed at Paris, might well, in a small -town, give rise to the conjectures which were relied upon to induce me -to marry Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain.<a name="page_346" id="page_346"></a></p> - -<p>Amélie and her husband told me so often and so earnestly that I loved -Pélagie, that I began to think that they would end by making me believe -it. And, after all, should I be so badly off if I married that young -innocent? If I was not in love with her, perhaps I should be all the -happier; moreover, I was well aware that I was incapable of a new love; -the most that I could do was to stamp out that which still tormented me -in spite of myself.</p> - -<p>Beside the innocent Pélagie, I should pass placid days; she was bashful, -virtuous, well bred; a husband would be able to mould her as he chose. -Friendship, they say, is more durable than love; I would begin with -friendship for my wife, so that I might love her the longer. I should -not be jealous; I should have one less source of torment. I should have -children, whom I would bring up on a very different plan from my -sister’s. Finally, having a gentle, guileless, and taciturn wife, we -should have none of those little discussions which Amélie called -conjugal amenities, but which were in my eyes very unpleasant quarrels.</p> - -<p>All these reflections produced a state of indecision, which my sister -interpreted in accordance with her favorite idea. Persuaded that I loved -Pélagie secretly, that Pélagie adored me, and that our union would make -me the happiest of husbands and ensure my future peace of mind, Amélie -urged me, harassed me, persecuted me, to induce me to authorize her to -ask for the hand of Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain. At every moment in -the day she drew for me a new picture of the delights of wedded life. -Déneterre did the same; in the first place, to please his wife, and, -secondly, because he thought it would be a good match for me; to cap the -climax, even messieurs my nephews had been taught their lesson, and<a name="page_347" id="page_347"></a> -every day, as they climbed on my knees or my shoulders, they would say:</p> - -<p>“When are you going to invite us to the wedding, uncle?”</p> - -<p>I am naturally weak, as you must have noticed; tired of being tormented -from morning till night to marry, I saw that I must either make up my -mind to do it or leave the town, where I was already pointed out as -Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain’s future husband.</p> - -<p>But if I returned to Paris, what should I do there, tired as I was of -bachelor life, and conscious of a craving to love, to attach myself to -someone, and to detach myself from her whom I had loved so dearly?—No, -I would marry, I would adore my wife if possible, and pray that she -would prove my rock of salvation.</p> - -<p>The result of these reflections was that I said one day in response to -my sister’s entreaties:</p> - -<p>“Do whatever you choose.”</p> - -<p>Amélie asked no further questions; she threw her arms around me, kissed -me, and, giving me no chance to add a single word, flew to Madame de -Pontchartrain’s to sue for Pélagie’s hand for her brother. In half an -hour she returned with the answer, which was favorable.</p> - -<p>“She gives her to you!” she cried from the foot of the stairs; “she is -yours; everything is agreed upon and settled; to-morrow I will attend to -publishing the banns.”</p> - -<p>I considered that my sister had been a little too expeditious; it was -impossible now to retract; the request had been made and granted, and I -was bound!—What! I was going to marry Pélagie, whom I hardly knew? It -seemed to me that it must all be a joke; I could not accustom myself to -the idea of being Mademoiselle de Pontchartrain’s husband.<a name="page_348" id="page_348"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX<br /><br /> -<small>AN INTERVIEW WITH MY INTENDED</small></h2> - -<p>After my marriage was decided upon, I received permission to go alone to -Madame de Pontchartrain’s to pay court to Pélagie in her aunt’s -presence. In the evening, I sometimes escorted the ladies into society -and took them home. It was not infinitely entertaining to me. I began to -be weary of all that etiquette and ceremony, of all those provincial -puerilities; but I determined that, when I was once married, I would go -back to Paris and teach my wife another way to live.</p> - -<p>Despite all the efforts my sister made to hasten what she called the -instant of my happiness, I could not become Pélagie’s husband in less -than a month; and in that time I hoped to become better acquainted with -my promised bride. To be sure, I saw her every evening; but it was -always in company, playing parlor games, where everybody’s eyes were -fastened on us, trying to divine what two people who are to be married -say to each other. Poor dears! in vain did you prick up your ears and -stretch your necks, trying to catch our lightest words; you could not -possibly hear anything to enlighten you upon that subject, because -Mademoiselle Pélagie and I had never spoken of it.</p> - -<p>It may seem surprising that a promised husband had not spoken of love -and marriage to her to whom his troth was plighted; but I confess that I -did not care to admit everybody to the secret of my thoughts, and in<a name="page_349" id="page_349"></a> -company it would have been very hard for me to say anything to Pélagie -which would not be overheard by all the ears that were constantly on the -alert about us. Moreover, how can one discuss an interesting subject -while playing <i>La Sellette</i> or <i>Monsieur le Curé</i>? I hoped to be less -constrained with her in the morning, but the aunt was always there; -often, too, some acquaintance came to make a call. I could not see -Pélagie alone for an instant; it was impossible to carry on a connected -conversation with her, and I began to be impatient. It seemed to me very -natural to make the acquaintance of one’s wife before marriage; I felt -sorely tempted to consign to the Evil One all that provincial etiquette -which was so utterly devoid of sense. I decided to apply to my sister to -obtain for me an interview with my intended.</p> - -<p>“Amélie, I should be very glad to have a little conversation with -Pélagie.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what prevents you, my dear? don’t you see her every morning and -evening, if you choose?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to be sure, I see her in the morning, but always in the presence -of her aunt and three or four old mummies who would deprive the most -impassioned lover of all desire to make love. Besides, Pélagie is very -shy; how can you expect her to describe her sentiments before people?”</p> - -<p>“Why, my dear, you ought to divine them easily enough from the hints she -lets fall.”</p> - -<p>“My dear girl, at the point we have reached I cannot be content with -hints; I want something positive; in short, I want to know what sort of -a person I have to do with.”</p> - -<p>“But you are allowed to talk freely enough, I should think.<a name="page_350" id="page_350"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! that is delicious! but I tell you again, it isn’t enough for -me.”</p> - -<p>“In the evening, you always sit beside her; you can whisper to her and -squeeze her hand.”</p> - -<p>“My poor Amélie, you make me laugh with your provincial privileges; a -man has much greater ones in Paris with young women he isn’t proposing -to marry.”</p> - -<p>“So much the worse for the girls in Paris, brother.”</p> - -<p>“Or so much the better, for, after all, severity overdone is often -harmful; when the principles of virtue are once engraved on a girl’s -mind, I don’t see why she should not be allowed a reasonable degree of -liberty; those who would make missteps would surely have done it later; -but those who would always behave themselves, and would not abuse the -privilege of listening to foolish talk, they, my dear Amélie, would -bring with them, when they marry, a guarantee of their virtue; for you -will agree that there is no great merit in being innocent when it is -impossible to be anything else.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! what ideas you have about women, brother! It is easy to see that -you have been spoiled in Paris.”</p> - -<p>“I have much less narrow ideas than yours as to the training of girls, -sister; for example, I strongly approve the English method, by which -they are allowed to do whatever they choose before marriage. In London, -an unmarried girl goes out alone to call on her friends and -acquaintances. She may go to a concert or theatre with a young man, -without arousing the suspicion that he is her lover. She goes to balls -without a mentor; and in society she may laugh and talk and lead the -conversation, without being called to order by her parents. But when she -is once married, there’s a great difference; she must lead an orderly, -quiet life, devoted entirely to the<a name="page_351" id="page_351"></a> care of her household and her -children; she goes out only with her husband, receives no men except in -his presence, and at parties and receptions consorts with persons of her -own sex, who, like herself, refrain from joining the men, whom they -generally leave at table after dinner to drink and tell stories. Well! -do you think that such a very bad system? For my part, I am convinced -that there are fewer deceived husbands in England than in France.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! they are deceived there before marriage, that’s all the -difference.”</p> - -<p>“And here, after marriage.”</p> - -<p>“Brother!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! don’t be angry; I didn’t mean that for you.”</p> - -<p>“Well! what is the point of your remarks?”</p> - -<p>“I want you to procure me a tête-à-tête with Pélagie.”</p> - -<p>“A tête-à-tête! do you mean it?”</p> - -<p>“With my future bride, it will be perfectly proper!”</p> - -<p>“But propriety—good morals!”</p> - -<p>“Propriety and good morals cannot be offended.”</p> - -<p>“But the custom!”</p> - -<p>“Your customs are beginning to be very irksome to me; and if you don’t -obtain me the interview I desire, I am quite capable of decamping some -fine morning and leaving you with my intended and her aunt and all the -gossip of the town on your hands!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! mon Dieu! the reckless fellow! he makes me shudder!—Well, I’ll try -to arrange it. After all, you’re to be married in a week, and—and—in -fact—— But I have an idea: I will go to Madame de Pontchartrain and -ask her permission to take her niece with me to make some purchases that -are necessary for her wedding; she<a name="page_352" id="page_352"></a> can’t refuse me; then I’ll bring -Pélagie here, and you can talk to her at your leisure.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a happy idea!”</p> - -<p>“But I trust, my dear, that you will behave yourself, and——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be alarmed! Really, you have a very low opinion of me.”</p> - -<p>“The fact that I am going to fetch your intended proves the contrary.”</p> - -<p>My sister did, in fact, go to Madame de Pontchartrain’s. My threat of -leaving Melun had made poor Amélie tremble; she had not even been -willing to let me go to Paris to purchase the indispensable gifts; -Déneterre had undertaken to do all that. I did not insist, for I might -have fallen in with somebody in Paris who would have made me forget my -marriage.</p> - -<p>Amélie succeeded in her mission; she soon returned with Pélagie, who, on -seeing me, blushed and courtesied as if I were a stranger.</p> - -<p>“Here is my brother, who will be delighted to talk with you,” said -Amélie, as she led Pélagie into the house. “I have a thousand things to -do, and I am compelled to leave you for a few minutes; but you will be -united in a week, so I can see no great harm in leaving you together.”</p> - -<p>Amélie left us, and I was alone with my future wife at last. Pélagie -seated herself at a considerable distance from me, so I began by placing -my chair close to hers and taking possession of both her hands. I was -glad to see that she made no effort to withdraw them. I gazed at her for -several minutes; she kept her eyes fixed on the floor and said not a -word. I concluded that if I did not begin the conversation we should sit -in silence and without moving all day long; indeed, it was my place to -begin.<a name="page_353" id="page_353"></a></p> - -<p>“You know, mademoiselle, that we are to be married?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“In a week, I shall be your husband.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Does the prospect please you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Then you love me a little?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>That was not bad for a beginning. Still, I was anxious to obtain -something besides that everlasting <i>yes, monsieur</i>.—I tried to go about -it so as to make her reply less briefly.</p> - -<p>“When you first saw me, did you pick me out from the rest, prefer me to -other young men?”</p> - -<p>Doubtless that question seemed embarrassing to her; it was some time -before she answered, but at last I heard a <i>yes, monsieur</i>.</p> - -<p>“Had your heart never spoken before you saw me?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“What! do you mean that you have been in love before?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! no, monsieur; I don’t know anything about love.”</p> - -<p>“Why, you do now, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Then you don’t love me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Would you prefer another to me?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose you should be married to someone else, would you be sorry?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Then, why do you marry me?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, monsieur.<a name="page_354" id="page_354"></a>”</p> - -<p>I nearly lost my patience; the woman would surely drive me mad with her -gentleness. I began to be afraid that I had mistaken stupidity for -innocence and awkwardness for timidity! But her hand trembled; probably -she was afraid that she had angered me. I felt that I must control -myself and not frighten her; that was not the way to attract her and win -her confidence.</p> - -<p>“Pélagie.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“My dear girl, when you are going to marry a man, you mustn’t call him -<i>monsieur</i>.”</p> - -<p>“What shall I say, then?”</p> - -<p>“Call me your <i>dear</i>; I hope always to be that.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Has your aunt brought you up very strictly?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you ever receive any young men at your house?”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Do you like society?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“When we are married, what would you like to do?”</p> - -<p>“Whatever you like, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Shall we remain here, or go to Paris to live?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I don’t care. But——”</p> - -<p>“Well! go on, don’t be afraid to speak.”</p> - -<p>“I think I should like Paris better.”</p> - -<p>“In that case, I am delighted to agree with you.”</p> - -<p>And I kissed her hand, to manifest a little affection. She hastily -withdrew it.</p> - -<p>“Pélagie, a promised husband may kiss his betrothed’s hand as much as he -pleases.”</p> - -<p>“Really?”</p> - -<p>“I give you my word.<a name="page_355" id="page_355"></a>”</p> - -<p>Instantly she offered me both hands. Her docility was charming; it was -something, at all events.</p> - -<p>“Pélagie, what has your aunt ever said to you about me?”</p> - -<p>“She told me I might listen to you.”</p> - -<p>“And then?”</p> - -<p>“That you had asked for my hand, and she had given it to you.”</p> - -<p>“So she didn’t consult you beforehand?”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear. What for?”</p> - -<p>“Why, to know if you liked me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it wasn’t worth while.”</p> - -<p>“But it seems to me that if——”</p> - -<p>“I am too well bred not to obey my aunt.”</p> - -<p>“But if I had been old, ugly, and gouty?”</p> - -<p>“That wouldn’t have made any difference.”</p> - -<p>“You would have married me just the same?”</p> - -<p>“Of course, if my aunt had said so.”</p> - -<p>“Why, then you have no inclination for me?”</p> - -<p>“What is an inclination?”</p> - -<p>“What! has your aunt never told you that you must love your husband?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p>“And be faithful to him?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p>“Do whatever he wishes?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p>“And never listen to other men?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p>I could stand it no longer; I leaped from my chair. Pélagie, terribly -frightened, rose also and looked at me. I paced the floor with long -strides. But she came toward me.<a name="page_356" id="page_356"></a></p> - -<p>“Have you hurt yourself?” she asked, opening her eyes to their fullest -extent. I could not help smiling at her question. I put my arms around -her and embraced her with considerable warmth; I was determined to try -to animate her at any cost. At first she tried to release herself; but I -told her that a future husband had the right to hold his intended in his -arms.</p> - -<p>“Oh! that makes a difference,” she said; and she ceased to resist.</p> - -<p>“He may kiss you, too,” I said; and I proceeded to kiss her repeatedly, -on her cheeks and her lips. She made no objection.—See how dangerous -ignorance often is! there was an innocent with whom a man might do -whatever he chose by means of false arguments.</p> - -<p>But as I heard my sister I released Pélagie, who allowed herself to be -kissed with charming docility. Indeed, I fancied that she was beginning -to show some animation.</p> - -<p>“Come,” said my sister, as she entered the room, “it’s time to go back -to your aunt, my dear Pélagie; she might not like it if you should stay -away any longer. You have had plenty of time to talk, and you will have -still more when you’re married. Take your shawl and let us go.”</p> - -<p>Pélagie took her shawl without a word, and prepared to go with my -sister. I bade her adieu, whereupon she gave me a decidedly tender -glance. I believed that my kisses had produced some effect on her heart, -and that belief made me a little more hopeful of the future.</p> - -<p>I realized now that my bride had no intelligence; perhaps I might have -gone further; but I must needs make the best of it. I did not think -that, in order to be happy, one must have a genius for a wife; bright -women are generally very tiresome in their homes, and she who<a name="page_357" id="page_357"></a> devotes -her time to displaying the gifts she has received from nature very -rarely thinks of taking care of her children and gratifying her husband. -As soon as a woman believes herself to be more intelligent than her -husband, she refuses to be governed by him. Moreover, I had had many -liaisons with clever women, and the result had not been flattering to -me. Agathe, Caroline, and Madame de Marsan were all bright. And Nicette? -she was, too; and yet—— Well, it was very fortunate that my betrothed -was not. I was well aware that there was a great distance between a -genius and a blockhead, and that if pretentiousness is irksome, -stupidity is even more so. But I hoped that marriage, which works so -many metamorphoses, would succeed in forming Pélagie’s judgment. I had -already fancied that I could see that my caresses had stirred her -pulses. There is a time when nature seems benumbed; at such a time a -crisis is necessary. Perhaps Pélagie’s heart and mind only needed that -crisis to develop rapidly.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI<br /><br /> -<small>I MARRY</small></h2> - -<p>The great day arrived when I was to utter that solemn <i>yes</i> which would -bind me forever. Forever is a very long time—it is very short when one -is happy!</p> - -<p>At times melancholy thoughts oppressed me. I was not in love with the -woman I was about to marry, and I felt that it was the absence of love -that made us walk so carelessly toward the altar. Love, who charms the -present and embellishes the future, is a god whose<a name="page_358" id="page_358"></a> presence is most -essential on the wedding day; he ought always to preside on such -occasions. However, I proposed to do without him; indeed, I must, for -whom could I love now? I should have ceased to think of <i>her</i>, but I -still thought of her. She did not love me; and if she had loved me, -could I have married her? It would have been madness; but is the madness -which makes one happy so very blameworthy?</p> - -<p>I felt tears in my eyes. Was that the proper way to begin that day? It -was my last thought of her. Henceforth I would never think of the past. -I must try to be light-hearted, to be amiable with Pélagie. Amiable! she -would not notice it! But, no matter; I must forget myself.</p> - -<p>My sister was the first who entered my room. I fancy that she noticed my -depression; she kissed me and embraced me, and assured me that I should -be very happy.</p> - -<p>“God grant it!” I thought. “Thus far I have not been happy in love; -perhaps I shall be in marriage.”</p> - -<p>I overcame my weakness and was myself once more. Poor Amélie! she was so -pleased when she saw me smile!</p> - -<p>By the way, where were my wife and I to live? I had not given that -matter a thought; but I was not at all disturbed, for my sister had -undertaken to look out for everything, and she was not the woman to -forget anything so important. However, I felt that I should be very glad -to know where I was to take my better half that night.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t told me yet, sister, where I am to live.”</p> - -<p>“That goes without saying, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Nevertheless, you will have to tell me, for I can’t guess.<a name="page_359" id="page_359"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Has not Madame de Pontchartrain a magnificent house, of which she -occupies only one-half? You are to live there with your wife.”</p> - -<p>“At her aunt’s? I don’t like that very much.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be disturbed; your suite is by itself, and a long way from hers; -you need have nothing to say to each other, except when you please. I -knew, of course, that you would like to be by yourself, and I have had -everything arranged with that end in view.”</p> - -<p>“All right.—By the way, has Pélagie received all the usual gifts?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear; have you forgotten that I showed them to you yesterday -and told you Déneterre had spent three thousand francs out of the money -you gave him?”</p> - -<p>“True; it had gone out of my head.”</p> - -<p>“Pélagie will be enchanted, I assure you. There’s a beautiful set of -jewelry—and shawls—and dress materials.”</p> - -<p>“Very good; so, then, there’s nothing for me to do to-day but to get -married?”</p> - -<p>“Mon Dieu! that’s all, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“So much the better. What time is it to be?”</p> - -<p>“At eleven o’clock you are to call for your wife and take her to the -mayor’s office. We shall have two carriages; I have ordered them.”</p> - -<p>“Two carriages! it seems to me that’s very few.”</p> - -<p>“There are no more to be had in town.”</p> - -<p>“That makes a difference.”</p> - -<p>“But this evening we shall have several sedan chairs and Bath chairs.”</p> - -<p>“Aha! so they have those things here?”</p> - -<p>“To be sure; they are very convenient and much less dangerous than your -horse vehicles, which always frighten me.<a name="page_360" id="page_360"></a>”</p> - -<p>“It is true that in a Bath chair the steed doesn’t take the bit in his -teeth. And from the mayor’s office we go to the church?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; at one o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“And then?”</p> - -<p>“Then we come back here, and chat until three.”</p> - -<p>“Where is the wedding feast to be?”</p> - -<p>“Here, my dear. At first Madame de Pontchartrain insisted on having it -at her house, but I finally carried the day. We shall be much more free -here, you know. We can laugh and sing and frolic.”</p> - -<p>“I confess that I shall be delighted to be allowed to frolic. And the -ball is to be here also, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! no, my dear; the ball is to be at Madame de Pontchartrain’s; she -has a superb salon, where three sets can dance a quadrille at once. -Besides, it’s more proper at night to be where the bride can -conveniently be put to bed!”</p> - -<p>“What’s that? put the bride to bed? I fancy that that’s my business.”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear; don’t you know that it’s the custom for the bride’s near -relations to take her to the nuptial chamber and undress her and put her -to bed?”</p> - -<p>“You will do me the kindness to abridge all that ceremonial, which I -consider utterly ridiculous, as much as you possibly can. It seems to me -to be the bridegroom’s place to undress his wife and put her to bed—or -to postpone putting her to bed if he and she please. They are entirely -at liberty to suit themselves.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! brother, think of what decency demands!”</p> - -<p>“My dear girl, some people are so decent that they end by being -indecent; just as some people are so bright that they end by making -fools of themselves. Extremes meet;<a name="page_361" id="page_361"></a> too great strictness breeds -debauchery, just as extreme rigidity of morals often ends in their -entire subversion. <i>Summum jus, summa injuria.</i> The savages who live in -countries where they are not ruled by civilized man should have pure -morals, since they follow the inspiration of nature; and yet that -extreme purity which leads them to go naked and to conceal nothing from -one another resembles a refinement of libertinage among us. Diogenes, -who wanted to be a wise man, was nothing better than a fool; and Crates, -who considered himself a philosopher, was simply disgusting; and how -many writers there are who, by dint of trying to rise to the sublime, -fall into bathos! and scholars who, while striving to be profound, are -simply ludicrous! and actors who, in their efforts to be natural, appear -absurd! and dancers who fall to the ground because they try to jump too -high! The moral of all this is that we should seek a happy medium in -everything, and that when a husband and wife have complied with the -behests of the law and of religion they should be allowed to go to bed -without having somebody else place them solemnly between two sheets; -which, in my opinion, is better adapted to offend decency than to -gratify it.”</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry, my dear, but the custom——”</p> - -<p>“I tell you, if I were in love with my wife, I would make short work of -this custom! but let us say no more about it; I will submit to whatever -you say.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; dress yourself and come to breakfast.”</p> - -<p>I felt that I must dress myself with care; the least one can do is to -try to make himself presentable on his wedding day. Although Pélagie had -said that she would have married me just the same if I had been old and -ugly, I liked to think that she would notice the difference. I was soon -ready; unless he is a conceited fop, a man<a name="page_362" id="page_362"></a> cannot spend much time over -his toilet, and I did not, like Raymond, reflect for a quarter of an -hour where I should place a pin or how I should arrange the ends of my -cravat. Speaking of my neighbor, I regretted that he was not at Melun; -he would have assumed the duties of best man, and would certainly have -invented something new; but it would probably have resulted to my -disadvantage, so perhaps it was as well that he was not there.</p> - -<p>My nephews came jumping and prancing into my room, to tell me that -breakfast was waiting; they were already in their gala costumes, and -were so wild with delight that we could not hear ourselves talk. Happy -age, when the least novelty, the slightest change in the daily habits, -the idea of a party, a wedding, a grand dinner—of anything, in fact, -that suggests confusion and disorder—causes intoxicating delight! We -ought to retain longer the characteristics of childhood.</p> - -<p>I found Déneterre in full dress. He came to me, embraced me, pressed my -hand with a satisfied air, and said to me in a half solemn, half comical -tone:</p> - -<p>“Well! you’re one of us now!”</p> - -<p>I looked at him with a smile, and stifled a sigh which would have been a -rude answer to his congratulations.</p> - -<p>“Come, let’s eat, and eat heartily!” said my brother-in-law, taking his -seat at the table. “You need to lay in some strength to-day, my dear -boy.”</p> - -<p>So the chapter of jests had begun; but it was likely to be brief in a -small place, where remarks with a double meaning were frowned upon. At -all events, they might say what they pleased; I was determined to accept -everything with a good grace. But I thought it well to follow -Déneterre’s advice and eat heartily; that was the best thing for me to -do until night.<a name="page_363" id="page_363"></a></p> - -<p>“Let us hurry,” said Amélie; “it’s almost eleven; we mustn’t keep your -wife waiting, dear Eugène.”</p> - -<p>“Of course not; that would not be polite; I am ready to start.”</p> - -<p>“Come, Déneterre, have you finished?”</p> - -<p>“For heaven’s sake, give me time to swallow!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how long it takes you to do anything! Do put on the children’s -hats!”</p> - -<p>“What! are you going to take them to the mayor’s office?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all folly; it won’t amuse them, and they’ll crowd the carriage; -it’s much better not to take them till we go to the church.”</p> - -<p>“But I insist on their going now! Do you suppose that I dressed them up -just to leave them at home?”</p> - -<p>“But I tell you we can come back and get them in a little while.”</p> - -<p>“And I tell you that I propose to take them now.”</p> - -<p>“There won’t be any room for them.”</p> - -<p>“You can hold them on your knees.”</p> - -<p>“So that they can kick me and soil the ladies’ dresses!”</p> - -<p>“They’ll keep quiet.”</p> - -<p>“It would be something new!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how you tire me with your arguments!”</p> - -<p>“You are a most obstinate creature!”</p> - -<p>The clock struck eleven, and I put an end to the discussion by -announcing that I was going; my sister and her husband did the same, and -we took the little boys. I was very sure that that would be the result.</p> - -<p>The two carriages were in front of the house; the coachmen wore white -gloves and had huge bouquets. All the neighbors were at their doors or -windows; a<a name="page_364" id="page_364"></a> wedding in a small town is such a momentous event! it -furnishes a subject of conversation for more than a week.</p> - -<p>We took five minutes to go about as far as the length of one of the -shorter boulevards in Paris; the horses were not used to coaches, and -their drivers drove very slowly in order that they might seem to be -starting on a journey. We arrived at last and were shown into the large -salon, where the intimate friends and the distinguished personages -invited to the first ceremony were assembled. I did not see my bride, -and started to go in search of her; but I was detained; I could not be -allowed to enter her bedroom yet.</p> - -<p>“She’s coming,” said Madame de Pontchartrain; “be patient, my dear -Dorsan, you will soon see her.”</p> - -<p>I had no difficulty in being patient; still, I wished that it was all -over. I was beginning to be deathly tired of the compliments everyone -paid me, to which I soon ceased to be able to reply, because everyone -said the same thing.</p> - -<p>At last Pélagie appeared, escorted by her aunt and my sister. Her dress -was magnificent, and her face even prettier than usual. The compliments -began anew. I listened to them now with more pleasure; the presence of a -pretty woman always suggests compliments to me, and I was not displeased -by the admiration my bride aroused.</p> - -<p>I hastened forward to take her hand; she kept her eyes fixed on the -floor and seemed to have resolved not to raise them during the day. I -led her toward the door and to the carriage, heedless of the -remonstrances of her aunt and my sister, who called after us:</p> - -<p>“That isn’t right! wait! wait! It isn’t your place to take her hand! -You’re disarranging the programme!<a name="page_365" id="page_365"></a>”</p> - -<p>I cared not a whit for the programme. Madame de Pontchartrain almost -lost her temper; my sister calmed her by attributing my heedlessness to -my excessive love. We entered the carriages, which process took nearly -ten minutes, because, in the first place, no one would get in first, and -then no one would take the rear seat. I had to hold myself hard to -refrain from pushing them all into the carriages—the ceremonious -idiots, who stood an hour on the steps! Poor lovers, who marry in the -provinces, how your tempers are tried! At last we were all seated. -Déneterre was compelled to walk with the children, who had already torn -the trimming of three dresses and stained several white satin shoes with -mud. Really, the little rascals were most amusing!</p> - -<p>We arrived at the mayor’s office. As there is seldom a line of people -waiting to be married in provincial towns, we were not obliged to wait -an hour for our turn. The ceremony was performed quickly enough, and I -was married according to law; there was no drawing back.</p> - -<p>To reach the church we had to repeat the same nonsense with respect to -the carriages; it took even longer to arrange the order of march, for -several people had joined us at the mayor’s office, and the procession -was swelled by three sedan chairs and two Bath chairs. My wedding had -stirred the town to its centre; the church was filled with people, and -we could scarcely force our way through the crowd. Those who were not of -the wedding party had come to criticise, those who were, to admire; and -the idlers, loiterers, working girls, matrons, and old women, to say -their say concerning the bride and groom.</p> - -<p>Everybody knows what a marriage is, for it is easy to procure the -pleasures of marriage in Paris. I will not<a name="page_366" id="page_366"></a> therefore go into the -details of mine; it resembled others as to form, and several times I -heard some such words as:</p> - -<p>“That’s a pretty couple; they are both very good-looking.”</p> - -<p>A body always likes to hear such remarks.</p> - -<p>At last the fatal <i>yes</i> was pronounced. Pélagie said it so low that -nobody could have heard her; for my part, I showed much firmness. We had -a sermon preached to us—a little long, perhaps, but very touching and -moving. How can one fail to be moved when one is pledging one’s self for -life?—I glanced at Pélagie; she did not weep; her eyes were cast down, -her manner was as reserved, her demeanor as modest as usual, and she -showed no more than her ordinary emotion. That vexed me; it seemed to me -that she should have wept.</p> - -<p>At last all was over; I was married! We left the church between three -rows of sightseers, and went to my sister’s; we spent three-quarters of -an hour in going the distance of a gunshot; to be sure, our procession -was increased by about half of the town, and we had to return salutes -and courtesies at every step.</p> - -<p>When we reached the house, it was only half-past one, and we did not -dine till three. What were we to do in the interval? That was the most -difficult part of the whole day. Some old women proposed a game of -boston or whist, but Madame de Pontchartrain thought that it would be a -breach of etiquette to play cards on a wedding day morning; it is good -form to do nothing; it is amusement enough to talk, sitting very -straight for fear of rumpling one’s gown.</p> - -<p>Without asking our dear aunt’s opinion, I went down into the garden with -my wife. I wanted to entice her into some solitary path; not that I -proposed to exert<a name="page_367" id="page_367"></a> my marital rights already; but I wanted to try to -read Pélagie’s heart and find out what her present feelings were.—It -was impossible to be alone; all the young women followed us; the -inquisitive little hussies would not let us out of their sight. Two -young married people afford so much food for thought! they are so pretty -to look at—when they are pretty; and you know that we were.</p> - -<p>I could do nothing more than take my wife’s hand; I squeezed it -tenderly—very tenderly—and she looked at me and smiled.—“The deuce!” -thought I; “can it be that she understands that language?”</p> - -<p>“You hurt my fingers,” she remarked mildly, withdrawing her hand.</p> - -<p>It was enough to drive one to despair! I had no further desire to walk -with her alone.</p> - -<p>Luckily, the hour for the feast arrived. We betook ourselves, with the -utmost formality, as before, to the dining room; we took our seats in -the order demanded by convention. I was at one end of the table, my wife -at the other; that was the best way to encourage harmony between us; and -then, everyone knew that we should come together at last.</p> - -<p>The greatest tranquillity reigned during the early courses; we sat very -straight, watched one another, passed the dishes, ate, and declared -everything divine, exquisite, delicious: that was substantially the -whole of the conversation. I had no desire to enliven it; I was sober, -yes, pensive. Sometimes I glanced at my wife; her eyes were constantly -fixed on her plate. Madame de Pontchartrain’s expressed the satisfaction -she felt at the reserved demeanor of the bride and groom; we certainly -could not be charged with acting like two madcaps.<a name="page_368" id="page_368"></a></p> - -<p>Upon examining the guests, I found that I had at my right a pretty, -vivacious young blonde, with whom I had several times laughed and joked -when we met in society, so far as laughter was permitted in the circles -that we frequented. I began to talk with her by way of distraction, but -she replied with marked coldness, reserve, and brevity. What did that -mean? Mon Dieu! I had forgotten that I was now a <i>married man</i>. I was -still inclined to play the gallant with young ladies, but I had lost my -title of bachelor, which was worth a hundred times more in their eyes -than all the pretty speeches I could make them as a Benedick.</p> - -<p>However, I was determined to amuse myself at any price. I tried to eat; -but I was not hungry.</p> - -<p>“I will drink, then,” I said to myself; “but I must take care; a -bridegroom should keep his head clear.”</p> - -<p>The dessert came at last; our appetites were a little appeased; the wits -of the party began to shine, the jokers to hazard a bonmot or two or a -very sly remark; the young men tried to laugh, and the women did their -utmost to consider it all very amusing. My sister was in ecstasies; she -did her best to encourage this well-intended merriment. As for -Déneterre, he was so busily engaged in carving, and in looking after the -small table at which his children were sitting with six other children, -that he had no time to put in a word.</p> - -<p>The dessert and liqueurs increased the general hilarity to the highest -point, augmented as it was by divers little pranks on the part of my -nephews, who knocked over two piles of plates, broke three glasses, -overturned sauce on several ladies’ dresses, while coming to the large -table to fetch for themselves things that were promised them but that -did not arrive quickly enough to satisfy them.<a name="page_369" id="page_369"></a> But they knew that on -such a great day they had carte blanche, and they made the most of it. -Everybody agreed that they were dear little fellows, even the ladies who -would have to change their dresses. Their papa and mamma were -enraptured, which was quite natural.</p> - -<p>The signal was given, and we left the table.</p> - -<p>“How is this?” I whispered to my sister; “no song?”</p> - -<p>“You know very well that it isn’t good form nowadays, my dear. Is there -singing at the great weddings in Paris?”</p> - -<p>“No; but there is at those where the guests enjoy themselves.”</p> - -<p>“We stick to custom.”</p> - -<p>“And the garter?”</p> - -<p>“Fie! fie! we have done away with that; it was indecent!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it was indecent, was it? I see that I must not do at my wedding -party or to my wife anything that the most rigid rules of chastity do -not permit. I trust, however, that you have not suppressed anything -else.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! no, brother! besides, I am sure that to-day you have no desire -to——”</p> - -<p>“To what?”</p> - -<p>“Why, to——”</p> - -<p>“To what, in heaven’s name? Finish.”</p> - -<p>“Why, a desire to—with your wife—— Oh! you know what I mean.”</p> - -<p>“The deuce! surely you are joking, my dear girl? Do people no longer -marry for that here? is that suppressed, too?”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear, no! but a man generally leaves his wife in peace the first -day. The poor child has been so excited!<a name="page_370" id="page_370"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes; it is astounding how excited she looks!”</p> - -<p>“You must give her time to recover herself.”</p> - -<p>“Go to the deuce, my dear Amélie, with all your nonsense! What is the -meaning of all this affectation? as if it must not come to that at last! -I don’t like this prudery which denotes dissimulation pure and simple. I -know by experience that those who cry scandal the loudest are the ones -who in secret have the least virtue. The modesty of rakes and kept women -is much more easily shocked than that of virtuous men and decent women. -Fans hide more prostitutes than virgins, and veils are worn from -coquetry, not from modesty; in short, those who make so much fuss and -hang back at first are the ones who jump the highest afterward.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you are free to do as you please, brother.”</p> - -<p>“That is very fortunate!”</p> - -<p>Poor Amélie! how she had changed since she had been living in that -paltry town! So this was the banquet at which we were to laugh so loud -and have so much sport! For my own part—and I have been to many -weddings—I confess that the merriest are those of honest folk who are -not afraid of violating etiquette and the proprieties every moment. -Commend me to the poor people for real enjoyment! But I realized that on -this occasion I must say with the song:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“When we are beggars, then we’ll make merry!”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>My wife disappeared. Ah, yes! to dress for the ball—that was it. I had -nothing to say against that custom; in any event, I should have been -careful not to say it; I should have had all the young women about my -ears. Two dresses, sometimes three—that was one of the pretty customs -of that day.<a name="page_371" id="page_371"></a></p> - -<p>We returned to Madame de Pontchartrain’s for the ball. It was the first -time that I had ever seen wedding festivities divided between two -places; but I found that I learned many things at Melun.</p> - -<p>We assembled in the salon, which was lighted by candelabra that must -have done duty in the time of King Pepin le Bref. The guests invited for -the ball arrived in a swarm; no one ever dreams of missing a fête in a -small town. The bride appeared in her ball dress, which was in very good -taste. I looked at her, but her eyes were still <i>in statu quo</i>. I -ventured to say to her, under my breath:</p> - -<p>“Do lift your eyes a little; you have such lovely eyes!”</p> - -<p>“Aunt told me not to.”</p> - -<p>That was all I could extort from her. I had nothing to say to that; it -would have been ill-advised for me to play the master so soon.</p> - -<p>The orchestra began to play; we had two violins and a clarinet; also a -little fifer, to imitate Colinet; it was superb—at all events, it was -the best that could be had in the town. They played contradances that I -had never heard in Paris. I surmised that they were composed by the -leader of the local orchestra; it was impossible to make the mistake of -confusing them with those of Rubner, Weber, and Tolbecque.</p> - -<p>There was plenty of dancing; and in that amusement the pleasure was not -feigned, for youth loves to caper. The young men disputed with one -another the privilege of dancing with the bride, who was always engaged -for fourteen or fifteen quadrilles ahead. The groom’s turn never comes -on such occasions; but on his wedding day he is easily consoled, and a -thing that would have distressed him terribly the day before makes no -difference<a name="page_372" id="page_372"></a> to him when he is married. How a title changes one’s way of -feeling and of looking at things!</p> - -<p>I too danced; I was very glad to have that resource to occupy my time, -and I was as persistent as my wife.</p> - -<p>“Do take a little rest,” some young man would say to me; “you’ll tire -yourself out.”</p> - -<p>But I paid no heed, for I thought less than they did of what I still had -to do.</p> - -<p>Toward the end of the evening, however, I danced with Pélagie; the ball -had warmed her up a little: her cheeks were flushed and her bosom rose -and fell more rapidly; she was really very pretty, and I ought to have -deemed myself very lucky to possess so many charms. I began to look at -my watch and to think that the time passed very slowly.</p> - -<p>But it was growing late, and many people had already taken leave. It was -one o’clock in the morning! a big slice taken off the night. Madame de -Pontchartrain made a sign to my sister, and they led my wife away. I -divined the meaning of that, and I waited until I might be allowed to -join Pélagie.</p> - -<p>The ceremony seemed to me very long! Not until three-quarters of an hour -had passed did Amélie return and motion to me that at last I was at -liberty to go to my wife.</p> - -<p>All the guests departed; I did the same; fleeing from the jests that -bored me to death, I left the ballroom and bent my steps toward the wing -which I was to occupy thenceforth.</p> - -<p>I was directed to my bedroom; I had been careful to take a light, -otherwise I should have broken my neck in some of the innumerable rooms -of that old house, and the time would have been very ill chosen for an -accident.<a name="page_373" id="page_373"></a> I saw a light—that must be the place. I opened a door and -entered a very handsome bedroom, furnished somewhat <i>à l’antique,</i> but -provided with everything. Two wax candles were burning on the mantel; I -recognized several articles of mine on a table, for my sister had taken -pains to have all my wardrobe transported to my new abode. I was at -home; so far, so good. To make sure of not being disturbed, I bolted the -door, then walked toward the bed, the curtains of which were drawn—from -bashfulness, of course.</p> - -<p>I heard no sound. Could she be asleep already? or was she pretending to -be? I drew the curtains aside, and I saw no one in the bed, which had -not been disturbed.</p> - -<p>What did that mean? I was certainly in my apartment—everything that I -found there proved it. In that case, where could my wife be? Did it mean -that we were to have a bedroom each? Why, of course; and that was why -they hoped that I would leave my wife in peace. “The devil take them -with their nonsensical customs!” thought I.—If I had only known it -sooner! However, I wanted my wife; I was determined to have her, I must -have her. I had not married a pretty doll who never opened her mouth and -kept her eyes on the ground all day to be alone at night and occupy a -separate bed; the least I could expect was some little compensation for -the ennui I had suffered.—I would sleep with my wife—that was my -resolution—even though I must turn the whole house upside down to -attain that end.</p> - -<p>I reflected first of all that my wife’s room could not be far from mine. -I concluded to try to find it, and to avoid making a noise if possible; -for that would cause scandal in the household of Madame de -Pontchartrain, who thought perhaps that I had married her niece to<a name="page_374" id="page_374"></a> -obtain the right to make love to her at those innocent parlor games.</p> - -<p>I looked about and discovered a door which I had not noticed at first. I -took a candle, opened the door, and found myself in a fine salon. That -was very well; I continued my inspection of my suite. There was a door -facing me; where did that lead? Into a dining room. Another door opened -into a passageway; I went on and found a toilet room freshly painted; -all very pleasant, but not what I was looking for at that moment.</p> - -<p>I returned to the salon. Whither did that other door lead? To my wife’s -room, no doubt; since I had been prowling about the salon as if I were -playing hide-and-seek, I must have passed it many times. I tried to open -it by turning the knob, but it resisted; it was locked on the inside. No -more doubt: my wife was there, and had been advised to lock herself in. -Ah! what sly creatures they were in that country!</p> - -<p>I knocked—no answer. I knocked again, louder.</p> - -<p>“Who is there?” someone asked at last; and I recognized Pélagie’s voice.</p> - -<p>“It’s I, my dear love.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! is it you, monsieur my husband?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my dear; come, let me in quickly.”</p> - -<p>“What for?”</p> - -<p>“Parbleu! I’ll tell you in a minute. Open the door.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I can’t!”</p> - -<p>“You can’t! what does that mean? that’s decidedly new!”</p> - -<p>“My aunt told me not to.”</p> - -<p>“Your aunt doesn’t know what she says. As she has been a widow -thirty-three years, perhaps she has forgotten that husbands and wives -sleep together.<a name="page_375" id="page_375"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! I know that you will sleep with me finally; but she told me -that modesty requires me to postpone the time as long as possible.”</p> - -<p>“And I tell you that we must sleep together at once; modesty has nothing -more to do with our love; hymen has its rights, and you must listen to -it now; the pleasures it permits should not alarm your modesty.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand all that.”</p> - -<p>“I will make you understand it when I am with you. Open the door, I beg -you. I can’t begin to instruct you with this door between us.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid that my aunt——”</p> - -<p>“Look you, madame, I am your husband, after all; you swore this morning -to be obedient and submissive to me, and you are violating your oaths -already! Come, Pélagie, I beg you, let’s not begin with a quarrel; open -the door at once; if you don’t, I’ll set the house on fire.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! mon Dieu!”</p> - -<p>She opened the door instantly; she was in her chemise and hurried back -to hide herself in her bed; but it was easy for me to find her now. I -still had a few obstacles to overcome; but they were not at all -disagreeable; indeed, I should have been very much distressed if I had -not encountered them! On this occasion the rose was not without thorns.</p> - -<p>Let us draw the curtain over the mysteries of hymen, although they are -one of Polichinelle’s secrets.<a name="page_376" id="page_376"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII<br /><br /> -<small>RETURN TO PARIS</small></h2> - -<p>The first days of married life are called the honeymoon. But the only -honey I enjoyed was a grand row with Madame de Pontchartrain on the day -after my wedding, because she perceived by her heavy eyes, her gait, in -fact, by a thousand symptoms which never escape a dowager’s glance, that -I had already plucked the rose of hymen. She went so far as to reproach -me, to accuse me of immodesty, brutality, a purely animal passion, and -declared that I wanted to kill her niece. It would have required the -patience of a cherub to listen unmoved to such nonsense; and as I am no -angel, I sent our aunt about her business; I forbade her to meddle in my -affairs thereafter, and especially enjoined upon her to refrain from -offering advice to my wife. Madame de Pontchartrain shrieked and stormed -and raved; I withdrew to my apartment; and there we were at swords’ -point!</p> - -<p>Old women are great talkers, and the dear aunt was spiteful and -vindictive in addition. Instead of trying to forget that scene, she -thought only of revenging herself for what she called my base conduct. -On the next day, the whole town knew that I was a hot-tempered, -ungentlemanly libertine, and that I had begun already to make my wife -very unhappy.</p> - -<p>However, my sister, who knew me and loved me, made haste to contradict -all the rumors that the old aunt put in circulation to my discredit; she -fell out with Madame de Pontchartrain, because she did not share her way -of looking at things. In the town, some believed<a name="page_377" id="page_377"></a> the aunt, others my -sister; opinions were divided; it would almost have split the community -into two hostile camps, except that they were generally agreed as to the -main point, that is, the pleasure of making unkind remarks and the love -of scandal.</p> - -<p>I was very little disturbed by what the people of Melun thought and said -of me, but I was deeply interested in my wife, and I was desirous that -she should not agree with her aunt.</p> - -<p>Pélagie found herself in an embarrassing position: her aunt told her not -to listen to me, and I told her not to listen to her aunt, who did all -that she could to induce her to come often to her apartments, while I -did my best to prevent her going there. Madame de Pontchartrain told -Pélagie that she ought to command, to force me to obey her—in a word, -to be the mistress; while I tried to make her understand that when a -woman can do nothing but play parlor games, dance, embroider, and sing -ballads, she ought to call in her husband to assist her in managing her -household.</p> - -<p>All this frequently threw my wife into a state of painful uncertainty. I -had been her husband only a few days, and her aunt had been her mentor -from infancy. She was afraid of her, and I should have been very sorry -to arouse such a feeling with respect to myself. The result was that she -obeyed her aunt rather than me; and that had already brought about -several of those little <i>discussions</i> which I desired to avoid. If -Pélagie had had any wit or judgment, she would have felt that her aunt -was wrong. But, alas! she had nothing of the sort; and dullards are much -harder to lead than bright people. I hoped that she would acquire those -qualities, and that, having her eyes opened in regard to a certain -matter, she<a name="page_378" id="page_378"></a> would become less stupid with regard to others; but I was -beginning to lose that hope.</p> - -<p>There was one point, however, upon which we were in accord: that was our -right to sleep together. As to that, Pélagie was entirely of my opinion; -she no longer dreamed of having a separate bed, and was never tempted to -lock her door. I would have bet that it would be so; these little -innocents!—when they are once started, nothing will stop them!</p> - -<p>I had no desire to remain at Melun; but before taking my wife to Paris, -it was necessary that I should have lodgings prepared for her reception. -I could not take her to my little bachelor apartment; it was not -suitable for us, nor did I wish her to know anything about it.</p> - -<p>To find suitable lodgings, have them furnished and put in order, and -engage servants, would detain me in Paris at least a week; and if I -should leave my wife in her aunt’s power for a week, God only knew in -what frame of mind I should find her when I returned! An hour passed -with Madame de Pontchartrain always caused a quarrel between Pélagie and -me. When she left her aunt, who had persuaded her that she ought not to -listen to me, she made it her business to do just the opposite of what I -told her, to tease me and make me angry; it was extremely difficult for -me to bring her back to other ideas and to make her realize her errors. -If she should pass a week without seeing me, it would be impossible for -us to live together.</p> - -<p>What was to be done? I did not propose to live in the province any -longer; I was beginning to have my fill of it, and I felt that if I were -obliged to live there I should die.</p> - -<p>My sister saw my plight; and despite her desire to have me settle down -in her vicinity, as she saw that I did<a name="page_379" id="page_379"></a> not enjoy the pleasures of -wedlock as I ought at Melun, she offered to send Déneterre to Paris, to -prepare an apartment for me. I accepted her offer gratefully; and my -brother-in-law set off, with full instructions from me.</p> - -<p>I prayed that he might return very soon. The time seemed terribly long -to me. I was obliged to remain constantly with my wife; and to be always -in the company of a person who has nothing to say, who often does not -understand what you say to her—what torture!</p> - -<p>At first I had hopes; the nights were some slight recompense; but hope -soon vanished, and even the nights sometimes seemed wearisome to me. Ah! -then I realized what a trivial thing mere beauty is! We become -accustomed to everything, to an ugly face as well as a lovely one; but -when, with the lovely face, we find no sustenance for the mind or heart; -when a little mouth is mute or says only foolish things; when two great -eyes have no expression; when the smile is always the same; when the -voice expresses no feeling—then there is nothing to do but yawn and -fall asleep beside that little chef-d’œuvre of nature.</p> - -<p>But when we listen to some attractive person, who has the power to -describe what she feels, whose eyes and voice are equally eloquent, who -charms us by her thoughts and attracts us by her conversation, do we pay -any heed to her ugliness? No, we forget it; more than that, it actually -disappears, and the face that repelled us at first becomes agreeable to -us.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Are men of great minds ever ugly?”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>Doubtless beauty combined with wit aids materially in seducing us; but -if we can have only one of the two, I am sure that in marrying we should -not set great store by externals. That one should take a pretty -mistress,<a name="page_380" id="page_380"></a> without bothering one’s head as to her mental powers, is -perfectly natural; one can leave her as soon as she becomes a bore. But -a wife! a companion for the rest of one’s life! what a difference! I -know there are many husbands who spend less time with their wives than -with their mistresses; but I am not speaking for their benefit. When I -married, I intended to have a happy home, not to leave my wife and run -after other women; and yet, as you will see, that was what I was obliged -to do.</p> - -<p>Déneterre had been away twelve days, and still he did not return. Madame -de Pontchartrain, who knew that I proposed to take my wife to Paris, was -more savage than ever; she tried every day to play some fresh trick on -me; she watched for her niece as the cat watches for the mouse; and -whenever she saw her, she inflamed her against me. All my time was -occupied in defeating her little plots; we played <i>Guerre ouverte</i> in -the house, and that afforded me a little distraction.</p> - -<p>By dint of slandering me, the old lady had come to believe a portion of -her slanders; and if by chance I went to some reception, which very -rarely happened, I was conscious that a confused, incessant muttering -and whispering began as soon as I appeared. Some looked at me, others -turned their heads away; the old dowagers and the mothers, who were hot -partisans of Madame de Pontchartrain, lost no time in moving away from -me; there were some who even made a gesture of alarm at my approach, as -if I were plague-stricken.</p> - -<p>I laughed at all this with the sensible, reasonable people; but they -were not in the majority; besides, it is much easier to speak unkindly -than kindly of a person; it would seem that faults are apparent to every -eye, and that good qualities keep out of sight.<a name="page_381" id="page_381"></a></p> - -<p>At last Déneterre returned. My apartment was waiting for me on Boulevard -Montmartre; I could occupy it at once; everything was ready for my wife -and myself, and our servants were engaged.</p> - -<p>I did not propose to delay. I urged Pélagie to hurry with her trunks and -boxes and bundles. She seconded me warmly enough; I believe that at -heart she was not sorry to escape from her aunt’s authority, and to see -new places. And such places! Paris! the paradise of womankind! and the -hell of—— Great heaven! I forgot that I was one myself!</p> - -<p>It was all over; I had bid my sister, her husband, and my nephews adieu. -Pélagie went to take leave of her aunt, for I would not have her fail in -courtesy toward her. Madame de Pontchartrain refused to allow her niece -to go; I was obliged to go after her. She declared that I had no right -to take her away, and tried to detain her by force. I was compelled to -abduct my wife; the old aunt pursued us to the front door and threatened -to come to Paris after us. But I knew that she would not; people do not -play boston in the morning there.</p> - -<p>We started; and in my delight I kissed my wife! It was just six weeks -since my wedding, and five months since I had left Paris.</p> - -<p>At last I saw it again, that splendid city, and I exclaimed:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Hail! city of uproar, and of mud and smoke!”<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>I prefer thy uproar to the gossip and scandal and petty malignity of the -provinces; thy mud to the grass that grows in the untrodden streets of a -small provincial town; and thy smoke to those solid pleasures—which I -have failed to find elsewhere.<a name="page_382" id="page_382"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII<br /><br /> -<small>RAYMOND REAPPEARS</small></h2> - -<p>The new apartment, in which we installed ourselves at once, was large, -convenient, and well arranged. I noticed that there was a room adjoining -my study, where I could easily have a bed placed in case my wife should -be indisposed and should prefer to sleep alone; for it is well to -anticipate everything.</p> - -<p>We had two servants, a maid and a cook; those were all that we needed. I -had neither horses nor intrigues, consequently I had no occasion for the -services of a Frontin or a Lafleur, who, having nothing to do, would be -driven to emptying my wine cellar, seducing my maid-servants, and -robbing me, to pass the time away.</p> - -<p>During the first fortnight after our arrival in Paris, my wife did not -give me a moment’s rest; I had to take her everywhere: to drive, to the -theatre, to concerts, to the monuments and curiosities of every sort. -She compelled me to go all over the city with her in the mornings, being -determined to become acquainted with every quarter. She was never weary -of gazing in admiration at the Palais-Royal, and she would stand by the -half-hour in front of milliners’ and dry goods shops; she was in -ecstasies, in the seventh heaven!—All the people, the noise, the -vehicles, the beautiful dresses, the young men who, on the fashionable -promenades and at the theatres, ogle women so respectfully and make such -pretty grimaces to those<a name="page_383" id="page_383"></a> who meet their approval—all these fascinated -Madame Dorsan, who began to lift her eyes and even to flash some very -innocent little glances therefrom. Oh! as for that, I was sure it would -come.</p> - -<p>I knew Paris by heart; I got a little tired of parading through the -streets every day; still, a husband should be obliging. Thank heaven! -the time came when there was nothing more to see unless we began over -again; which my wife would not have been sorry to do; but I needed rest. -Moreover, she discovered that a young wife could without impropriety go -out alone in the morning; she knew our quarter very well, and I saw that -she would make the most of the liberty I gave her.</p> - -<p>At last I could breathe freely. I was tired to death of plays, driving, -and questions; I was delighted to be alone. I had as yet had no time to -visit my little apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. If my wife had known -that I had a bachelor apartment, if her aunt had learned of it, I should -have been adjudged guilty of carrying on secret intrigues. But I had no -desire for anything of the sort; never again would I take any woman to -my former lodgings. I wished that I had never taken one there.</p> - -<p>There was one spot which I longed yet dreaded to pass. While escorting -my wife about Paris, I had always managed to avoid taking her there. -Why? I had no very clear idea; but I wanted to go there first alone; I -should be more at liberty to stop; I should find my friend the messenger -there, and perhaps I might—— But, no; I would not question him; what -need had I to do it now?</p> - -<p>My wife was asleep; it was only eight o’clock, and we did not breakfast -until ten; I had time to go out for a moment. I proposed to visit my -former lodgings; I walked<a name="page_384" id="page_384"></a> in that direction, but it was also the -direction in which Nicette lived. Passing through Rue Saint-Honoré, I -had not the strength to resist the secret longing that impelled me -toward the flower shop. I walked very fast at first, but the nearer I -approached it, the more I slackened my pace. I did not intend to go in, -nor did I intend to speak to her; but I felt that I would like to see -her.</p> - -<p>I saw the shrubs standing in front of the shop; I crossed the street in -order not to be on the same side. If I should pass close to her, she -might speak to me, and I knew that at the sound of her voice I should -stop in spite of myself.</p> - -<p>I made up my mind at last to pass, and I walked very quickly, just -glancing across. But I did not see her; I saw a woman with an ordinary -face—oh! not in the least like Nicette. Thereupon I crossed over and -walked by the shop; she was not there. I turned, walked back, and -stopped, pretending to examine the flowers. The woman came to me and -asked:</p> - -<p>“Does monsieur wish to buy something?”</p> - -<p>“No, no!” I said, and walked away toward my messenger’s stand; I was -impatient to question him. But he was not there; I waited nearly an -hour, and at last he came; he recognized me at once.</p> - -<p>“Your servant, monsieur; if I’d known you was here—— It’s a long time -since I saw you, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“That is true; and during that time?”</p> - -<p>“Bless me! there’s been lots of changes; the pretty flower girl ain’t -there any more.”</p> - -<p>“She isn’t?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; she sold her stock to Mère Thomas, who you see yonder in -her place.”</p> - -<p>“She sold her stock?<a name="page_385" id="page_385"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, and sold it well, too; for it’s a good shop. But they -say Mamzelle Nicette didn’t need it, because she’d made her -fortune—come into money.”</p> - -<p>“And where is she now?”</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul! monsieur, I don’t know; she didn’t say where she was -going, and we don’t never see her now.”</p> - -<p>“And that man who used to come to see her every day?”</p> - -<p>“Why! he kep’ on coming, but not so often toward the end.”</p> - -<p>“Did he take her away?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know nothing about it, monsieur; but I’m inclined to think she -sold her stock of her own accord.”</p> - -<p>“When was that?”</p> - -<p>“Why, near six weeks ago.”</p> - -<p>“And you don’t know where she’s gone?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>I paid the messenger and walked away; it was useless to question him any -further. Nicette had left her shop; what had become of her? what was she -doing? was she living with Raymond? That seemed impossible. Could he -have hired an apartment for her? I did not know what to think, but I -hastened to Rue Saint-Florentin.</p> - -<p>My concierge uttered a cry of surprise when she saw me.</p> - -<p>“Ah! there you are, monsieur! We really thought you must be dead! Do you -know you’ve been away almost six months?”</p> - -<p>“I know it, Madame Dupont. Give me my keys, please.”</p> - -<p>“In a minute, monsieur, in a minute. I’ve taken good care of your rooms, -I’ve had your furniture beaten every month, and I’ve scrubbed and——<a name="page_386" id="page_386"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I’m not at all disturbed. By the way, does Monsieur Raymond still -live on my landing?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur, no; he’s left, and in his place——”</p> - -<p>“Do you know his address?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; he left it here; he lives now on Rue Pinon, near the -Opéra, No.—— Oh, dear! I’ve forgotten, but it will come to me. Here’s -your keys, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“And that number, Madame Dupont?”</p> - -<p>“It’s surprising; I knew it just the other day. But it ain’t a long -street.”</p> - -<p>“That’s very lucky.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! wait a minute! I forgot, it was so long ago! I’ve got a letter for -you; it’s been here six weeks.”</p> - -<p>“A letter!”</p> - -<p>“Yes. A young woman brought it.”</p> - -<p>“A woman! give it to me, pray.”</p> - -<p>“Here it is, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>I took the letter and hastened upstairs to my room, to escape the -concierge’s chatter. Once more I was in that dear apartment! how glad I -was to be there! But the letter! It seemed to me that the writing—ah! I -dared not hope—I broke the seal; it was she—Nicette—who had written -to me!</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind">“M<small>ONSIEUR</small>:</p> - -<p>“It’s a long time since you came to see me, and I didn’t know why -you had abandoned me; you seemed to be angry the last time you -spoke to me, and I thought you were angry with me, but I couldn’t -guess why. To-day I have heard that you are married; I know that -you can’t think of me any more, or speak to a flower girl. I take -the liberty of writing to you only to say good-bye.<a name="page_387" id="page_387"></a> I am going to -sell my shop and go away to some place where I can be alone, not -see anybody, and cry all I want to; for I am very unhappy, and I -can’t get over it; it isn’t my fault. I have inherited a lot of -money from my mother and an aunt who’s left me all she had, and I -have more than enough to live on. But I don’t forget that I owe you -everything, that you took pity on me when everybody else abandoned -me, and saved me from want. I shall never forget it! Adieu, -monsieur! I wish you every happiness in your home; may your wife -make you happy! she must love you dearly! Adieu, my dear -benefactor!</p> - -<p class="r">“N<small>ICETTE</small>.”</p></div> - -<p>I read the letter several times. I could not help putting my lips to the -characters she had traced. Was that the language of a deceitful woman? -And yet I saw—saw with my own eyes Raymond sitting beside her, holding -her hands. I knew that he saw her every day; he himself told me so; but -could I place any faith in what Raymond said? Ah! if I had not seen him -with her!</p> - -<p>But why torment myself so? Was she not lost to me forever? was I not -married? It did not occur to me to be false to my wife, but I longed to -know whether Nicette loved me! I resolved to find Raymond and to try to -make him talk; that was not difficult, but to make him tell the truth -was no easy task.</p> - -<p>It was late, and as my wife might be disturbed by my absence I returned -to her, but with the firm intention to visit my old lodgings again, and -often.</p> - -<p>I carefully folded Nicette’s letter and took it away with me when I left -my bachelor apartment for my home.<a name="page_388" id="page_388"></a></p> - -<p>Who could have told Nicette that I was married? My concierge did not -know it; if she had, she would surely have mentioned it to me. It must -have been Raymond. But how did he know? I was considering this question -as I approached my house, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned -and saw Raymond! Never, I must confess, had the sight of him afforded me -so much pleasure.</p> - -<p>“Well! here you are, my dear fellow!”</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Monsieur Raymond!”</p> - -<p>“So you’re in Paris now, eh?”</p> - -<p>“As you see.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Dorsan! it seems a century since I saw you!”</p> - -<p>“I assure you that I too am very glad to see you.”</p> - -<p>“Really? such an excellent friend! By the way, accept my -congratulations; I understand that you have made a magnificent marriage, -that you have a divine wife!”</p> - -<p>“Oho! you know that, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; one of my friends, who happened to be at Melun, told me; you must -have met him in society—Monsieur Regnier?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I believe I do remember him.”</p> - -<p>“Well! it was he who told me the whole story. Ah! I was almost angry -with you.—‘What!’ I said to myself; ‘my dear Dorsan, my friend, is -married, and doesn’t let me know! me, who am so interested in his -welfare!’ Oh! it was very ill done of you!”</p> - -<p>“You are too kind, really; but my wife is expecting me, and I cannot -stay any longer. And yet, I should be glad to talk with you. Won’t you -breakfast with me?”</p> - -<p>“Won’t I!”</p> - -<p>“I will introduce you to my wife.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be enchanted to make her acquaintance.<a name="page_389" id="page_389"></a>”</p> - -<p>Raymond accompanied me home; he seemed delighted by the cordiality of my -greeting, especially as it was so unusual. He did not suspect that my -eager desire to talk with him was due to the fact that he alone could -tell me about Nicette, where she was and what she was doing. But I felt -that I must be prudent and not question him too abruptly; otherwise, he -would divine my sentiments, and it was more necessary than ever that I -should force them back into the depths of my heart.</p> - -<p>When we reached the house, I found that my wife was not anxious about -me, for she was breakfasting without me. I presented Raymond, who -confounded himself in compliments and high-flown praise which must have -bored Pélagie; but women of little intellect often attach the greatest -value to compliments; with such women one can make one’s self most -agreeable with commonplace remarks, and in that respect Raymond was well -endowed.</p> - -<p>The conversation, therefore, was confined to the pleasures of Paris, and -the sensation that such a woman as my wife must cause in society; for -Raymond always came back to that; he could not understand how a woman -who had always lived in the provinces could be so pretty and have such -distinguished manners; he was inexhaustible, but I breakfasted without -listening to him. As for Pélagie, having learned that she might smile at -another man than her husband, she smiled at each of Raymond’s -compliments, which gave her a chance to show her teeth.</p> - -<p>I saw that I could not mention Nicette that morning; my wife did not -leave the room; so I must needs be patient.</p> - -<p>“Where do you live?” I asked Raymond.<a name="page_390" id="page_390"></a></p> - -<p>“Rue Pinon, No. 2. I have left my old lodgings; you had ceased to be my -neighbor, and they had lost all their charm.”</p> - -<p>“I mean to come to see you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! don’t put yourself to that trouble; a bachelor is seldom at home; I -will come to see you, with your permission, and pay my respects to -madame now and then.”</p> - -<p>“You will gratify us.”</p> - -<p>“But I must leave you now; I have three appointments for this morning. I -have so many acquaintances! and not a moment to myself! Adieu, my dear -friend!—Madame, I lay at your feet the homage that your charms -deserve.”</p> - -<p>And Raymond took his leave, well pleased with his last compliment. He -was the same as ever.</p> - -<p>“That gentleman is very pleasant,” said Pélagie, when he had gone.</p> - -<p>She thought him charming; I was sure that she would. That my wife should -like Raymond did not surprise me; but Nicette!</p> - -<p>I dared not call on Raymond the same day; but the next day I could wait -no longer, and I went to see him. He was not in; he had already gone -out.</p> - -<p>“Does he live alone?” I asked the concierge.</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur; all alone.”</p> - -<p>I went away; I would have liked to know more, but I was almost sure that -Nicette did not live with him. I left my name with the concierge, so -that Raymond might know that I had been to see him; that would bring him -to my house, and perhaps I might be able to speak with him alone.</p> - -<p>He did not fail to come the next day. He was extraordinarily touched by -my kindness in calling on him. He<a name="page_391" id="page_391"></a> promised to show his attachment for -me by coming often to see me.</p> - -<p>I paid little heed to all the pretty things he said to me; I was vexed -because my wife did not leave us. How could I find an opportunity to -talk of Nicette? Parbleu! I would ask Raymond to dine; then I would -suggest that we go to the theatre in the evening; after dinner my wife -would go to dress, and she always spent at least three-quarters of an -hour at her toilet; during that time—— Yes, that would do.</p> - -<p>I invited Raymond to dine with us informally; he grasped my hand and -squeezed it till he made me wince, so pleased was he with my kindness; I -read in his eyes that he could not understand it. Certainly he must have -found me considerably changed. Doubtless he concluded that it was the -effect of marriage.</p> - -<p>The dinner was fairly cheerful; Raymond’s conversation never flagged. -Formerly, I was bored to death by his chatter, but it was a distraction -now; for I was not accustomed to hearing conversation, and I began to -experience satisfaction when anyone relieved me from a tête-à-tête with -my wife.</p> - -<p>Everything happened as I had foreseen. I proposed the theatre; my -proposition was accepted, my wife went off to dress, and I was alone -with Raymond at last.</p> - -<p>I led the conversation imperceptibly to his conquests.</p> - -<p>“By the way,” said I, “what did you do with the little flower girl?”</p> - -<p>“Whom do you mean? little Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, little Nicette, whom you used to go to make love to every -evening.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it’s a long while since that was all over, and I have ceased to -think of her! I have had so many others since!<a name="page_392" id="page_392"></a>”</p> - -<p>“She was your mistress, then?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, for three or four days; and then I dropped her.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you see her now?”</p> - -<p>“Never. I don’t even know where she is, for she has left her shop. Oh! -somebody keeps her now, I presume. That little creature had the most -absurd pretensions! she wanted to play the lady, and that sickened me! -When I want a <i>petite-maîtresse</i>, I don’t apply to a flower girl. -Everyone should stay where she belongs.—By the way, speaking of -<i>petites-maîtresses</i>, let us speak of your wife. She is really -beautiful! and so amiable, too! and she fairly sparkles with wit! I saw -that at the first glance. Deuce take it! how lucky you are, my dear -fellow!”</p> - -<p>When he began to talk about my wife, I ceased to listen to him. I -thought of what he had told me of Nicette; he declared that she had been -his mistress! could it be true? Ah! if I had not seen him in her shop, I -would have spurned the idea as a ghastly lie. So it was impossible to -find out what had become of her! Perhaps I should never see her again!</p> - -<p>That thought saddened me, and I could not banish it from my mind. My -wife returned, having completed her toilet. Raymond offered her his arm; -I motioned to Pélagie to accept it, as it was not customary for a wife -to take her husband’s arm when another gentleman offered his. If I had -been in love with my wife, I would have snapped my fingers at such a -custom; but, on the contrary, I was delighted to be able to go by myself -and dream undisturbed.</p> - -<p>Raymond was enchanted to have on his arm a pretty woman who thought that -everything that he said was charming. He went to the play with us, and -carried the whole burden of the conversation. I did what I<a name="page_393" id="page_393"></a> could to -take part in it and to divert my thoughts; but, in spite of myself, I -kept falling back upon my memories. Luckily, neither of them perceived -it: my wife enjoyed the play and Raymond, and he was in ecstasies over -what he said and what Pélagie replied.</p> - -<p>When the play was over, we all went home. Ah! how I longed then for a -separate room! but I dared not suggest it.</p> - -<p>That day gave birth to a depression which I could not overcome. My wife -said nothing, but I was very sure that she found Raymond much more -attractive than me. What idiocy to bind one’s self to a person whose -sentiments have nothing in common with one’s own! I said that to myself -every day, and every day I spent a little less time with my wife. I left -her to be amused by Raymond’s conversation; and I went off to my little -bachelor apartment, to think; often I wrote there, and read, and worked; -I was so comfortable there! I let my thoughts stray back to happier -days; to the days when I used to find bunches of orange blossoms hung at -my door. Ah! how happy I might have been then! but I did not know enough -to appreciate my good fortune. Not until those moments were past and -gone forever did I realize all their worth! and when I left my little -apartment to go back to the other, I regretted them more keenly than -ever.<a name="page_394" id="page_394"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV<br /><br /> -<small>I SHOULD HAVE FORESEEN IT</small></h2> - -<p>Whether we are sad or merry, happy or wretched, rich or poor, the Fates -spin the web of our days none the less. Mine was no longer of silk and -gold; but still the days passed; they seemed longer to me than if I had -been happy; that was all the difference, and therein people who are fond -of life should find some compensation; for years of sorrow count double.</p> - -<p>I had been married only a year, and I had already acquired all the ways -of an old married man. I did not go out with my wife in the morning; she -knew Paris as well as I did, and no longer needed my company; she went -out to pay visits, to make purchases, or to walk; I either worked at -home or went my own way. We almost always had someone to dinner, very -frequently Raymond, who had become the friend of the family. It was not -that I liked him any better than formerly; no, I did not look upon him -as a friend in the least degree; but he had become necessary to me, he -diverted my thoughts, he went about with my wife; he was always at our -service if we needed him to take part in a game or to do an errand; he -was really extremely obliging. Lastly, he had known Nicette, he was the -only person with whom I could talk of her now and then; that reason -alone was sufficient to lead me to seek his society. And yet, it was to -him that I owed a part of my sorrow; but he had rendered me a service by -showing Nicette to me as she<a name="page_395" id="page_395"></a> really was. If she had listened to him, -she must have listened to many others! In a word, his presence was often -painful to me, and yet I constantly sought it—I always hoped that he -would contradict what he had told me about her.</p> - -<p>As for my wife, she could not do without Raymond; he was with her almost -every evening, while I went to my little bachelor apartment. They played -together; Raymond played the flute a little, and my wife the piano; they -both sang also. Raymond was an inferior musician, and my wife was never -in time; together, they considered themselves very fine. And then, -Raymond had a supply of compliments and gallant phrases which delighted -my wife, who had plenty of self-esteem and coquetry, and loved to be -told that she turned all the men’s heads and that she was as witty as a -demon.</p> - -<p>I confess that I had never been able to tell my wife that she had -overmuch wit. Indeed, I had long since ceased to tell her that she was -pretty; it seemed superfluous to me; I had told her so when I was -courting her, and I could not keep saying the same thing forever. Such -talk seems to me most futile; a husband and wife ought to prove their -love to each other without having to pay each other compliments. But -Pélagie, who did not know what to reply when you talked to her on a -subject of real interest, knew enough to smile at flattery; and Raymond -declared that her smile said many things. If I attempted to talk -sensibly with her, she yawned; thereupon I left her, only too glad when -Raymond was there to take my place.</p> - -<p>I was wrong, perhaps, in allowing my wife to do whatever she chose; but -how would it have served me to put restraint upon her, to restrict her -in the gratification<a name="page_396" id="page_396"></a> of her tastes? It would have made us both unhappy. -We married without love, and we were not made to live together. My wife -was bored when alone with me, and I did not enjoy being with her. When I -tried to talk sensibly to her, to urge her to give a little more time to -her housekeeping instead of thinking solely of gewgaws and dress and -pleasure, then Pélagie would weep and say that her aunt was justified in -calling me a tyrant! What reply could I make to that?—none at all! I -cannot bear to see a woman weep. If I had no love for my wife, I did not -choose that she should have cause to complain of my treatment; so I -allowed her to buy whatever gave her pleasure, and to go to all the -balls and festivities to which she was invited. Pélagie spent on -dresses, jewels, cabs, and trifles much more than she brought me; but I -held my tongue, to avoid little <i>discussions</i>. I was determined to do my -best to keep the peace, at all events.</p> - -<p>Perhaps I should not have left her so often to listen to the whispering -of dandies and the soft speeches of salon seducers; but, in truth, it -was impossible for me to be jealous. Moreover, my mind was at ease on -that score; Pélagie had been brought up very strictly; she was -high-principled, and her manners were so modest and bashful! To be sure, -she no longer kept her eyes on the floor, and even played the coquette a -bit; but I was none the less confident of her fidelity. And then, too, -the young men who paid court to her in society never came to my house; I -seldom had any male guest except Raymond; and faith! if a man must -torment himself in anticipation, his mind would never be at rest.</p> - -<p>I hoped to have children; I would have loved them dearly; I would have -looked after their education, and<a name="page_397" id="page_397"></a> it would have been a great joy to me. -But I had not had that satisfaction, and the greatest pleasure I knew -was to go to my little apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. There I seemed -to be a different man; I fancied myself still a bachelor. In that house -nobody knew that I was married; but I never slept there, and my -concierge must have thought that I was leading a strange life; I paid -her generously, however, and she indulged in no comments. Indeed, who in -the house had any reason to complain of me? I took nobody there, I made -no noise, I spoke to nobody, and I did not even know who occupied -Raymond’s apartment on my landing.</p> - -<p>For some time past, my wife had been going more frequently than ever to -balls and parties which lasted far into the night. I am no foe to -gayeties, but I was afraid that her excessive indulgence in them would -injure her health. I reproved her mildly, and she answered sharply; a -dispute arose, and madame, who had taken a tone which was entirely new -to her, and which surprised me in a woman who had always seemed so -timid,—in the modest Pélagie,—put an end to the discussion by -announcing that she proposed to have a separate room, so that she might -be more at liberty.</p> - -<p>I asked nothing better. I had a bed put in the room adjoining my study, -which was separated from my wife’s bedroom by the salon, the reception -room, and a small music room. I took possession of my new quarters that -same evening. Raymond, being informed of the new arrangement, said that -it was an excellent idea, and that it was all that we needed to make a -most charming household.</p> - -<p>Pélagie spent money freely; with the purpose of trying to put a curb on -the follies she was beginning to commit,<a name="page_398" id="page_398"></a> I began to go into society -with her. It would still have been easy for me to form intrigues, to -make conquests; for a young husband is as warmly greeted in Paris as a -bachelor in the provinces; but I had no inclination for those liaisons -of a moment, for those amourettes which do not touch the heart; I was -faithful, but not amorous.</p> - -<p>Raymond, too, was most constant in his pretended great friendship for -us; often he was obliging enough to bring my wife home when I did not -care to stay so late as she did; and as we no longer slept together, -Madame Dorsan could come in whenever she pleased, and I know nothing -about it. I ceased to say anything to her, for I noticed that she -consistently did just the opposite of what I urged her to do.</p> - -<p>Still, I was afraid that her lungs, which were delicate, would suffer -from such constant late hours. The next time that she was to go to a -ball, I advised her to stay at home; she would not listen to me. I -decided to go with her and to try to induce her to go home early.</p> - -<p>Raymond accompanied us to the festivity in question, which was very -gorgeous and very largely attended. At midnight, satiated with dust and -écarté, I urged my wife to retire.</p> - -<p>“What, monsieur!” replied Pélagie; “go away at the very pleasantest part -of the evening! Oh! I propose to stay till the end! You can go home to -bed; Monsieur Raymond will bring me home.”</p> - -<p>What was one to say to a little woman who seemed so determined? I went -up to Raymond, who anticipated my wishes.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, go home if you’re tired; I’ll bring madame home.<a name="page_399" id="page_399"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Will you? very good; I shall be much obliged.”</p> - -<p>I left the house, saying to myself:</p> - -<p>“It’s a great mistake to laugh at us poor husbands; for, upon my word, -anyone else in our place would do just as we do.”</p> - -<p>I went home and to bed. I slept about three hours; then something, I -know not what, awoke me; doubtless it was written that I should wake. I -pressed the repeater of my watch: three o’clock. I thought that I would -like to know if my wife was at home; ordinarily, I did not disturb -myself about it, but she had a cold which made me anxious about her -health; if she was not more careful of herself, it might become serious; -and, although I did not love her, although she did not make me very -happy, as I was more prudent than she, it was my duty to look after her -health.</p> - -<p>That idea prevented me from going to sleep again; it seemed to me that I -should be more at ease if I were sure that she had come home. Why should -I not go to her room to make sure? I had never done such a thing since -we had slept apart; but my solicitude ought not to offend her; and -besides, I could go there without waking her, and she would not even -know that I had been to see her. I had a duplicate key to her bedroom, -which I had had made when we slept together, so that I could go in -without rousing her; for, in the early days of our marriage, she used to -go to bed before I came home, and always locked herself in because she -was afraid. I had forgotten to give her that key, which lay in my desk; -and she had probably forgotten that I had it.</p> - -<p>I rose and felt my way to the desk, for I kept no light in my room at -night. I found the key, and stole softly from my room to go to my wife.<a name="page_400" id="page_400"></a></p> - -<p>I walked noiselessly through the intervening rooms, I was careful not to -make a sound; one would have thought that I was on my way to an -assignation, but it was something very different. When I reached my -wife’s door I saw a light through the keyhole.—“Good!” I said to -myself; “she’s at home;” and I was about to creep away, when I fancied -that I heard voices. With whom could she be talking? The servants were -always in bed when we came home, as we had our own keys. I listened; I -could not hear very distinctly; but it seemed to me that that -voice—“Parbleu!” I thought; “that would be a strange thing!” A thousand -ideas crowded into my mind. I slipped the key in the lock very softly, -turned it quickly, entered the room, and—saw Raymond in bed with my -wife!</p> - -<p>Surprise held me motionless for an instant. Raymond jumped out of bed -and ran about the room like a madman; he could not find the door, -although there were two. I came to myself and could not resist the -temptation to give him a kick that sent him to the floor. But I soon -regretted my imprudence. To make an uproar—a scandal—to let the whole -household know that I was—I lacked only that!—I put Raymond on his -feet, pushed him out of the room, threw his coat in his face, and even -gave him a light, so that he might not break his neck on the stairs; it -was impossible to be more polite than I was.</p> - -<p>“Until to-morrow!” I said.</p> - -<p>I imagined that he did not hear me; but, no matter; he had gone, and I -returned to my wife.</p> - -<p>She had remained in bed; she did not stir.</p> - -<p>“As you may imagine,” I said to her, “I do not propose to publish this -abroad; however, madame, I am not in<a name="page_401" id="page_401"></a> the humor to continue to live with -you; I may be willing to conceal your misconduct, but I do not choose to -witness any more of it. Henceforth we will live apart, as divorces are -no longer granted, and as we must remain united all our lives by the -laws when we have ceased to be united by any sentiment. It is probable -that the blame will be laid on me; people will say that I have deserted -you after making you unhappy, for so they often judge the acts of -others; but it matters little to me; I leave you everything here; you -have your property, and I have mine; henceforth let there be nothing in -common between us.”</p> - -<p>Pélagie did not say a single word in reply; indeed, I am inclined to -think that she fell asleep during my speech. I took a candle, closed her -door, and returned to my own room. I intended to go to bed again; but I -felt that I should not be able to sleep. No matter if a man be not in -love or jealous, he cannot see such things as that and remain cool. -Still, I was well content with the coolness I had displayed; except for -the kick administered to Raymond, I had borne myself like a genuine -philosopher; but I felt in the bottom of my heart that one is never a -philosopher in respect to those things which concern self-esteem and -honor. Honor! Ah! Figaro is right when he asks:</p> - -<p>“Where in the devil has honor hidden itself?”</p> - -<p>I decided to pack up my belongings; that would keep me busy, and I -should be able to carry everything away at daybreak, and to leave -forever that woman, to whom I had been married about eighteen months, -and who had already made of me a—but one does not care to speak that -word concerning one’s self, although ready enough to apply it to -others.<a name="page_402" id="page_402"></a></p> - -<p>This, then, is the result of that happy marriage!—Ah! my dear sister, -why did I hearken to you? Why did I marry a woman who did not love me—a -woman who was not suited to me in any one respect! If we had been happy -together, if I had enjoyed being with her, if I had not left her so much -to her own resources, perhaps it would not have happened!</p> - -<p>So that young innocent, that Agnès, that little simpleton, had betrayed -me after only eighteen months! Perhaps it had been going on a long while -already; and once more it was Raymond who—— But, in truth, I should -have foreseen it; it was certain to happen.</p> - -<p>“But,” I said to myself, “this will be your last escapade, Monsieur -Raymond; to-morrow I will call upon you with a pair of pistols, which I -will load myself.”</p> - -<p>The day was beginning to break; I went down into the street, ordered a -messenger to go to my room with me, gave him all my goods and chattels -to carry, and bade adieu to my home. Thenceforth I would resume my -bachelor life.</p> - -<p>I had my bundles carried to my old apartment. Ah! how rejoiced I was -that I had kept it! It was as if I had divined that I should return to -it some day. Madame Dupont stared at my bundles.</p> - -<p>“Does this mean that monsieur is going to sleep in his room now?” she -asked slyly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Madame Dupont; after this I am going to live as I used to.”</p> - -<p>That business completed, I took my weapons and went to Raymond’s -apartment.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going, monsieur?” inquired the concierge, when she saw me -hurrying upstairs.</p> - -<p>“To Monsieur Raymond’s.<a name="page_403" id="page_403"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Why, monsieur, didn’t you know that he’d gone away?”</p> - -<p>“What’s that? gone away?”</p> - -<p>“To be sure; he didn’t sleep here; he took his things away during the -night, paid his quarter’s rent, and told me to sell his furniture, -saying that he’d send someone for the money after a while. I don’t know -what had happened to him, but he seemed so confused that at first I -thought he’d gone mad; he was in such a hurry that he didn’t take time -to pack the most necessary things. And then he rushed off without -telling me where he was going.”</p> - -<p>“The coward! Woe to him if I ever meet him! But he is quite capable of -having left Paris!”</p> - -<p>I left Raymond’s concierge in open-mouthed amazement and returned to Rue -Saint-Florentin, to arrange my little apartment with a view to resuming -my former habits.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>XXXV<br /><br /> -<small>MY NEIGHBOR</small></h2> - -<p>After a few days I recovered my tranquillity; even my spirits, which I -had lost, seemed to return with me to my old lodgings; sometimes I -fancied that I was still a bachelor; in truth, the best thing for me to -do, now that I had no wife, was to forget that I was married.</p> - -<p>As I had foreseen, I was the one at whom the stones were thrown; I -received a letter from my sister, who informed me that it was a -frightful thing to have deserted<a name="page_404" id="page_404"></a> my wife; that we simply must be -reconciled; that Madame de Pontchartrain was furious, and that Pélagie -was constantly asking her for money. In reply, I wrote my sister an -exact account of what had happened, begging her to keep it secret. I -knew that she would not, but I did not care if the good people of Melun -knew that I was a cuckold; I had no desire to go back there.</p> - -<p>In my old lodgings I resumed my former mode of life, save for its -follies, in which I no longer indulged; indeed, it was necessary for me -to lead an orderly, economical life; for my dear wife was running -through her fortune very rapidly, and I foresaw that she would soon have -recourse to me, and that I should be obliged to make her an allowance.</p> - -<p>I congratulated myself on the perfect tranquillity that I enjoyed in my -house; I realized that Raymond was no longer my neighbor. I should have -been glad to find him, however; but I searched Paris for him in vain; he -must have left the city.</p> - -<p>Apropos of neighbors, I began to wonder who lived on my landing. I had -never seen anybody go in or out; it was clearly some person of very -sedentary habits. I was not curious; still, one likes to know who lives -so near one. Madame Dupont would tell me.</p> - -<p>My concierge continued to do my housework; when she came one morning as -usual, she was delighted to find me inclined to converse a little.</p> - -<p>“I believe you told me, Madame Dupont, that the rooms Monsieur Raymond -used to occupy are let?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly they are, monsieur; they weren’t vacant a week; somebody -hired ’em right away.”</p> - -<p>“I never happen to see a living soul go in or out; I never hear a -sound.<a name="page_405" id="page_405"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! the tenant’s a very quiet party, never goes out, never has any -callers; it’s all right, but I don’t believe she has a very exciting -time.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a woman, is it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur—and as to respectability and morals—oh! there’s nothing -to be said.”</p> - -<p>“Is she an old woman?”</p> - -<p>“Not by any means, monsieur; she’s a young woman—very young.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! and pretty?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, very pretty—as well as I can see under the big bonnet she always -wears.”</p> - -<p>“What! a young and pretty woman living all alone? no lovers, no -husband?”</p> - -<p>“No one, I tell you! Oh! if anyone came, I should know it.”</p> - -<p>“But she must go out sometimes?”</p> - -<p>“In the morning, very early, to buy what she needs; you’re still asleep, -that’s why you don’t meet her. After that, she never stirs from her -room.”</p> - -<p>“It’s very strange!”</p> - -<p>“I’ve tried to talk with her now and then; but she won’t talk; it’s -impossible to get two words out of her. However, as she behaves decently -and pays on the dot, there’s nothing to be said. But it seems to me that -people ought to be obliged to let you know who they are.”</p> - -<p>I could not help smiling at my concierge’s reflection. What she had told -me of my neighbor aroused my curiosity a little, and at first I felt a -desire to know her; but why should I annoy the young woman? she did not -like society; perhaps she had her reasons for avoiding it. I determined -to respect her retirement.<a name="page_406" id="page_406"></a></p> - -<p>I had ceased to go into society; I should have run the risk of meeting -my wife or of being beset with disagreeable questions concerning the -cause of our separation; in society, people are so indiscreet that they -always ask, from preference, the most unpleasant questions, and I did -not choose to afford them that pleasure.</p> - -<p>I went to the play, to all the places where one is free from restraint. -Sometimes I caught a glimpse of my wife in a carriage, or in a box at -the theatre with two or three young men; it seemed that she had not -regretted Raymond very deeply, and I was not surprised; she was not so -constituted as to regret anyone. When I saw her in the distance, I -hastened away in the opposite direction; and she did the same; that was -the only thing in which we agreed.</p> - -<p>I prayed that she might not have children now! I should have to be their -father, willy-nilly. How delightful it would be to be presented with a -little family that I must support!</p> - -<p>“You should have gone back to your wife,” someone will say; “then you -could have believed that you were the father of your children.”</p> - -<p>Thanks; I preferred to live in peace and receive such gifts as my wife -chose to send me.</p> - -<p>I had been a bachelor three months; that time had passed very rapidly, -for ennui never found its way into my little apartment. I had resumed my -books and my music;—music! so soothing to the heart, and so sympathetic -with our joys and our sorrows! Every evening I sat down at my piano and -passed two or three hours there; it seemed to me that Nicette was with -me, that she was listening to me; I dreamed that she still loved me, -that she had never loved anyone else,<a name="page_407" id="page_407"></a> and I was happy while cajoling -myself thus with chimeras; men are great children who cajole themselves -all their lives.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I forgot the hour; the quiet of the night inclines the heart -to feed on illusions, and I abandoned myself to those illusions that -fascinated me. No one in the house had complained because I played so -late; there was no one above me but maid-servants, whom it did not keep -from sleeping; below was an old annuitant, slightly deaf; so that there -was nobody except my neighbor on the same landing who might be annoyed -by it; but I had asked the concierge if she had said anything about it, -and she said <i>no</i>. That woman was absolutely invisible; several times I -had fancied that I heard her door open, and had gone out quickly; for I -confess that I was curious to see her—but her door was already closed.</p> - -<p>She might have passed me again and again, and I should not have noticed -her; but nothing arouses curiosity so keenly as an air of mystery. I -determined to rise very early some morning and try to see her. I made -that resolve at night, but I fell asleep and forgot it. I was not the -man to do sentry duty on the landing, or to stare through the keyhole -ten or fifteen minutes; I left such methods to Raymond.</p> - -<p>I heard nothing more from Melun, and for some time past I had not seen -my wife; she left me in peace. I heard sometimes, from one of those -officious friends whom one meets in spite of one’s self, try as one may -to avoid them, that Madame Dorsan was no more prudent in her conduct, -that she had the same mania for balls and dissipation, that her coquetry -increased every day, and a thousand other bits of news no less -agreeable. There were some who advised me to exert my rights and to<a name="page_408" id="page_408"></a> -apply for an order to have her confined. I thanked them and turned on my -heel; I would swear that the very same people told Pélagie that I was a -tyrant, a bear, a wretch unworthy to be the husband of so pretty and -interesting a woman, and that I ought to be put under guardianship.</p> - -<p>In order to avoid meeting my wife, I frequently went into the country, -not in the direction which fashion has made its own, but to those places -where the worthy bourgeois and little grisettes go to amuse themselves; -the little grisettes whom I used to follow! But I had grown wiser; -marriage had <i>matured</i> my head considerably; I might say, had -<i>embellished</i> it.</p> - -<p>On a certain day I felt more content than usual with the world; I went -out on horseback and rode farther than I was accustomed to do. Darkness -overtook me at Vincennes; I urged my horse to a gallop, and returned to -Paris in time to avoid a storm that reminded me of the evening at -Montmorency.</p> - -<p>After taking my horse to the stable, I returned home; I felt tired and -needed rest. I could hardly drag myself up the stairs. I was about to -open the door—but what was it that my hand touched? Could it be? I -dared not believe it, and yet I held the bouquet in my hand. I put it to -my nose, I inhaled its perfume with intoxicating joy. Yes, it was really -a bouquet—in the same place where she used to put them. Ah! it surely -was she who brought that one! who else could have made me that present? -I hurried into the room; I could hardly wait to examine it. When I was -inside and had struck a light, I gazed at that lovely bouquet and kissed -it; it was of orange blossoms, the exact counterpart of those she used -to bring me. Ah! it was she, of course, who sent it to<a name="page_409" id="page_409"></a> me! But, in that -case, she was in Paris! she still thought of me! she still loved me!</p> - -<p>All these ideas chased one another through my brain; I looked to see if -there was a note in the bouquet—nothing! I went to the door, I looked -in the keyhole and on the floor—nothing! I had only the bouquet; but -that was much! She must have been there; I flew downstairs to question -Madame Dupont. I forgot my fatigue.</p> - -<p>“Has anyone been here to see me?” I asked the concierge.</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“What! no one has been to ask for me?—a young lady?”</p> - -<p>“I give you my word, monsieur, that I haven’t seen anybody who asked for -you, and I haven’t been away from my door.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you never see anything! you never used to see her before!”</p> - -<p>“Who, monsieur?”</p> - -<p>“Someone came, all the same, for I found this bouquet on my doorknob.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well! that’s very funny; somebody must have made a mistake in the -door.”</p> - -<p>“Mistake! no, there’s no mistake; it was she who came.”</p> - -<p>“She! who’s she?”</p> - -<p>“Raise the latch, Madame Dupont.”</p> - -<p>“What, monsieur! are you going out again now? Wait till the storm has -passed; it’s raining bucketsful.”</p> - -<p>“Open the door, I tell you!”</p> - -<p>The concierge dared not make any further suggestions. I went out; I had -no idea where I was going, but I was absolutely determined to find out -something about Nicette, to learn where she was. I hurried along the -street,<a name="page_410" id="page_410"></a> looking all about me—no one! It was a terrible storm. I went -to Rue Saint-Honoré, to her former shop; it seemed to me that I might -learn something by going to the place where she used to live; but the -shop was closed, tightly closed. I knocked—there was no reply. I -entered the café opposite and asked the waiters if the former flower -girl had returned to her shop. They stared at me, having no very clear -idea what I was saying; I was so excited, and my rain-soaked clothes and -muddy boots gave me such a wild aspect, that they took me for a lunatic, -I doubt not. I left the café without obtaining any information. Where -should I go next? I was still determined to find her.—Ah! perhaps where -her mother used to live. It was a terribly long way, but I ran there -without stopping. It was quite late; I could find nothing open but a -grocery in the neighborhood of Mère Jérôme’s house. I went in and -inquired; there I was at least more courteously treated than at the -café, because the grocer was more accustomed to see drenched and muddy -people. But I learned nothing; since Madame Jérôme’s death her daughters -had not been seen in the quarter. So I must needs renounce all hope of -learning what had become of her! But, no; I would hope on; she had sent -me a bouquet, and perhaps she would return.</p> - -<p>I went home sadly enough. I felt completely exhausted; my clothes were -stuck to my body; I could hardly walk, but I looked in vain for a cab; -it rained in torrents, and I did not meet a single one. I reached home -at last. Madame Dupont was waiting for me; the poor woman was terrified -when she saw the state I was in; she insisted on going upstairs to warm -my bed, on my taking something hot; but I refused her attentions; I -hoped that rest would restore me. When I entered<a name="page_411" id="page_411"></a> my room, my teeth -chattered violently and my legs trembled under me. I felt far from well; -I crept into bed with Nicette’s bouquet on my heart; it seemed to me -that that must cure me.</p> - -<p>The next morning my concierge found me wildly delirious; I recognized -nobody; my head was on fire, my mouth was parched; I was consumed by a -burning fever. Fatigue, the storm, the mental agitation of the preceding -night, had all combined to make me seriously ill. In a few days I was at -the door of the tomb.</p> - -<p>Who was there to take care of me? who would nurse me? My relations were -not in Paris. I had a wife, but she, instead of coming to my bedside, -would have fled from me for fear of contagion; strangers had to take the -place of kindred and friends.</p> - -<p>For nine days I had no idea who was nursing me; I neither heard nor saw -anything. Not until the end of that time was the crisis safely passed; I -was saved, my delirium disappeared; all that I needed was good care, -quiet, and rest.</p> - -<p>I half opened my eyes and looked about me with difficulty, trying to -collect my thoughts. I saw Madame Dupont by my side.</p> - -<p>“Have I been delirious long?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Nine days, monsieur; oh! you’ve been very sick; you almost died! But, -thank heaven! you’re saved; all you need now is patience and plenty of -rest. I was sure you’d be sick. The idea of going out in such a storm! -and all in a sweat, too! And when you came back, why, your eyes were -starting out of your head! But young men will never listen to advice! -And then, think of going to sleep with a nosegay under your nose! that’s -very bad—very unhealthy!<a name="page_412" id="page_412"></a>”</p> - -<p>“What has been done with that bouquet?”</p> - -<p>“It’s in the other room there; never fear, you’ll find it all right.”</p> - -<p>“Who has nursed me since I have been sick?”</p> - -<p>“I have, and—your neighbor.”</p> - -<p>“My neighbor!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the lady on your landing. Oh! she has taken the best possible care -of you. As soon as she heard you was sick, she insisted on being your -nurse, and, my word! if she’d been nursing sick folks all her life, she -couldn’t have done better.”</p> - -<p>“Where is she? I would like to thank her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you can thank her later. She’s just gone to her room. But here you -are talking, and the doctor told us we mustn’t let you talk! Go to -sleep, monsieur, go to sleep; it’ll do you good.”</p> - -<p>Madame Dupont closed my curtains and refused to answer any more -questions. I was at a loss to understand the unknown lady’s conduct; but -I was not strong enough to reflect long; I fell asleep wishing that I -might see her. Toward evening I woke. Someone was beside me. When I -moved, the person attempted to hurry away; but it was too late; my eyes -had met hers, I had recognized her: it was Nicette.</p> - -<p>I cried out, and she returned to me.</p> - -<p>“Oh! in heaven’s name, speak to me!” I said; “so that I may be sure that -it is you!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, it’s I, it’s your Nicette. Oh! Monsieur Dorsan, pray don’t -talk any more; the doctor has strictly forbidden it. That’s the reason I -didn’t want you to see me.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Nicette! as if the sight of you was not more powerful than all -their medicines! It is you! it is really you!<a name="page_413" id="page_413"></a>”</p> - -<p>I took her hands and pressed them and held them to my heart; I no longer -had strength to speak. She tried to calm me, but she was as deeply moved -as I was; the tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped on me; but how -sweet they were to us both!</p> - -<p>“So it was you, Nicette, who nursed me during my illness?”</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t it my duty? Could I have trusted others to do it?”</p> - -<p>“Then you were my neighbor?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>“Cruel girl! you concealed yourself from me!”</p> - -<p>“I thought that the sight of me would not give you any pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“You did not think that!”</p> - -<p>“You are married.”</p> - -<p>“But you see that I have ceased to live with my wife.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t dare show myself to you, for fear that would make you leave -your lodgings.”</p> - -<p>“What an idea! O Nicette!”</p> - -<p>“But I couldn’t resist the longing to remind you of me; and that is why -you found the bouquet.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! it is to it that I am indebted for finding you. Nicette, don’t -leave me again, I implore you!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! I won’t leave you again, monsieur, as you allow me to stay. -But, I beg of you, be calm, don’t talk any more, and take a little -rest.”</p> - -<p>I yielded to her entreaties; in truth, I did need to pull myself -together. Nicette was with me, it was to her nursing that I owed my -life! I had difficulty in realizing my happiness. Ah! how blissfully -happy I was! and yet, some regret was mingled with my joy, when I<a name="page_414" id="page_414"></a> -thought that Raymond—— But if that were not true, I should be too -happy.</p> - -<p>Every day my convalescence advanced a step; but I was not content unless -Nicette was by my side; so she never left me. She seemed surprised by -the feeling that I manifested for her; I saw in her eyes all the -intoxicating joy that it caused her. It was plain, therefore, that she -still loved me. Often I flattered myself that it was so, and then I -abandoned myself to the affection that she aroused in me, I basked -blissfully in the fire of her glances, I laid my head on her breast and -inhaled her sweet breath. But when the image of Raymond appeared before -me, all my happiness vanished, my heart swelled, and I moved away from -Nicette.</p> - -<p>She noticed these abrupt transitions from joy to gloom, these sudden -changes in my manner toward her.</p> - -<p>“Are you thinking of your wife?” she asked me one day, when I had moved -away from her and sighed.</p> - -<p>“No,” I said, gazing at her in distress; “I am thinking of Raymond.”</p> - -<p>“Of Monsieur Raymond; and that makes you sigh?”</p> - -<p>“Can you wonder at it? Did he not rob me of the greatest of blessings?”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean? I don’t understand you.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! Nicette, you loved him, and yet you say that you don’t understand -me!”</p> - -<p>“I—love him! Great God! who told you that?”</p> - -<p>“I saw it; I know that he was your lover.”</p> - -<p>“My lover! O heaven! then I am a most despicable creature in your eyes! -And you believed that!”</p> - -<p>Tears suffocated her; she could say no more. I ran to her, threw my arms -about her, and covered her with<a name="page_415" id="page_415"></a> kisses; the mere suspicion that Raymond -had lied to me was perfect bliss.</p> - -<p>“Nicette, dear Nicette, tell me how it all happened? I saw him in your -shop; he held your hands—and you admitted it yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! could you believe that I loved anybody but you? I, who would give -my life for you—who have never given a thought to anybody else since I -first saw you! Oh! forgive me for loving you so much; perhaps it offends -you, but I must tell you now the whole secret of my heart. When I lived -in my shop, the only joy I had was to see you; every day I expected or -hoped to see you pass; but it happened very seldom. I used to bring you -bouquets as a pledge of my gratitude, and I would seize a moment when -the concierge was out to run up and tie them on your door. Sometimes I -saw you go by with a lady on your arm. Then I used to cry, for I would -say to myself: ‘I shall never walk like that with him’—When I went a -long while without seeing you, I used to long to know something about -you, but I didn’t dare go to your house to inquire. One day Monsieur -Raymond stopped to buy some flowers of me; he looked at me very hard, -recognized me, I suppose, and came again the next day. While he was -looking at my flowers, he paid me compliments, but I didn’t listen to -him. Then he mentioned you, and I was very glad to listen to him. He -noticed that, for every time he came he talked about you, and I always -urged him to stay. He was the only person from whom I heard anything -about you; what he said made me sad, and yet I wanted to hear it. He -told me that you had twenty mistresses, that you loved all the women, -and that you had made fun of me; then he showed me the bouquets<a name="page_416" id="page_416"></a> I had -carried to you, which he said you had given to him.”</p> - -<p>“The miserable cur! And you believed him, Nicette?”</p> - -<p>“Alas! when I saw you come to buy flowers with that lady who—who called -you her dear friend and looked at me with such a sneering expression, I -thought he had told me the truth. That made me so unhappy that I -couldn’t stay at home; I went out and walked about the streets most of -the night, hardly knowing what I did. It was while I was out that you -came. The next morning, when you came again, you seemed to be very -angry, and you left me very suddenly, you know; I wanted to call you -back, but I didn’t dare. That evening Monsieur Raymond came; he talked -about you; I cried, and he tried to comfort me; he may have taken my -hands in his, but if he did I didn’t feel it; I was thinking only of -you. He came again the next night, and then he wanted to talk about -himself: he said that he adored me, and a lot of other things; but he -said nothing more about you, and I wouldn’t listen to him. I didn’t let -him in again; he wrote me a long love letter, calling me cruel and -wicked. I have kept it to show you. At last he let me alone. I never saw -you after that. I came to this house and learned that you had gone away, -but had kept your apartment; that made me hope you would return. But one -day Monsieur Raymond passed my shop, and, being delighted to make me -unhappy, told me you were married. Alas! I should have expected it; I -knew that there must be many other women who loved you; and yet, I -became so miserable that I didn’t have the courage to keep my shop; -besides, I was rich enough to get along without it. I came to this house -and found that the other apartment on your landing was empty, so I hired -it on<a name="page_417" id="page_417"></a> the spot. That brought me nearer to these rooms where I passed -that night which changed the whole course of my life. But when you came -back here to live, I didn’t dare to let you see me, because I was afraid -that the sight of me would not be pleasant to you.—That is the truth; -do you believe now that I have loved any man but you?”</p> - -<p>When she had finished her story, Nicette went for Raymond’s letter and -brought it to me. I no longer needed it to induce me to believe her; but -that final proof thoroughly convinced me that I had been deceived by -appearances and by Raymond’s lies.</p> - -<p>Ah! how delicious was that moment when I found that Nicette was worthy -of all my love! I hastened to tell her, in my turn, all that had -happened to me, all that I had felt when I believed that she was -Raymond’s mistress. She wept with joy and love as she listened; she -gazed into my face, took my hands, and held them to her heart.</p> - -<p>“So you did love me,” she said, “and you love me still! Ah! how happy I -am!”</p> - -<p>The story of my marriage and of Pélagie’s conduct caused her the -greatest surprise; she could not conceive how my wife could fail to love -me. Dear Nicette! But for that miserable Raymond, I should still have -been free! but the ties which bound me to Pélagie were broken by nature, -if not by man.</p> - -<p>“What!” she said; “are you not going back to your wife?”</p> - -<p>“Never. That resolution was irrevocable before I found you; it can bring -no blame upon you.”</p> - -<p>“And you really want me to stay with you?”</p> - -<p>“Do I want you to! Could I live without you now?<a name="page_418" id="page_418"></a>”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how happy I am going to be, monsieur!”</p> - -<p>“Dear Nicette! no more <i>monsieur</i>, no more formal address! I am your -friend, your lover, and you are the whole world to me! Call me Eugène, -your Eugène!”</p> - -<p>The evening passed away in this blissful conversation.</p> - -<p>“I must go to my room now,” said Nicette; “it is time to go to sleep, -and you need it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! happiness has restored my health. But you are my nurse, and you -must not leave me.”</p> - -<p>She blushed and looked at me; but she had not the strength to deny me -anything.</p> - -<p>“Dear Eugène,” she said, “I am yours. This is surely the place where I -owe the reward of your love.”</p> - -<p>Oh! unalloyed ecstasy of true love, I had never known you before! Never -until that day did I really exist!</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a>XXXVI<br /><br /> -<small>GREAT EVENTS.—CONCLUSION</small></h2> - -<p>A new dawn had risen for me; beside Nicette time fairly flew, and love -alone remained. It seemed to me that I loved her more dearly every day. -Sometimes the poor child feared that her happiness was only a dream. How -keen our pleasures were! how sweet our intercourse! Nicette was no -longer the poor flower girl whom I had known long before. Since she had -known me, she had striven incessantly to leave behind her every trace of -manners and mode of speech that might be unpleasant to me; she had -struggled to acquire the indispensable knowledge that she lacked. During -all the time that she had lived alone on my landing, she had devoted to<a name="page_419" id="page_419"></a> -study every instant that was not given to thoughts of me. The result was -that she talked easily and expressed herself with facility; her manners -were refined, her appearance simple, but modest; she did not hold -herself perfectly stiff, or keep her eyes cast down, or assume the -prudish airs which distinguished Pélagie—before she was my wife; but -her demeanor was respectable, her glance sweet and expressive; her whole -aspect was most attractive; and her heart—ah! her heart was a treasure!</p> - -<p>Six months had passed like a day since I had found Nicette; our -happiness would have been perfect but for her occasional fits of -melancholy, the cause of which I divined.</p> - -<p>“You are married,” she often said to me; “perhaps it is very wrong of me -to live with you. Suppose that you should despise me some day.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Nicette! drive away these thoughts, which my heart repels. Let the -world think and say what it will! If it blames me, it is wrong. In good -faith, which of the two deserves to be despised, the wife who deceives -her husband, or the mistress who is true to her lover?”</p> - -<p>But one morning, while we were breakfasting, there came a violent ring -at my door. Nicette answered the bell and returned, followed by a woman -whom I recognized: it was Justine, Pélagie’s maid.</p> - -<p>My blood froze in my veins. Why had she come?</p> - -<p>“Monsieur,” said Justine, “madame your wife is very sick; when she came -home from a ball three days ago, she began to vomit blood; they think -she can’t get well, and she wants to see you.”</p> - -<p>Nicette turned pale; I saw her stagger, but she ran to fetch my hat.<a name="page_420" id="page_420"></a></p> - -<p>“Go, my dear,” she said; “go at once; your wife is waiting for you. If -necessary, stay with her, don’t come back! But try to save her life.”</p> - -<p>I hurried after Justine and returned to that house which I had thought -that I should never enter again. How everything was changed! What -confusion everywhere! I found my way at last to my wife’s apartment and -approached her bed; I could hardly recognize her. Was this that Pélagie -who used to be so fresh and pretty?—I forgot her faults, and I was -conscious of no feeling for her but pity.</p> - -<p>She held out her hand.</p> - -<p>“I wanted to see you before I died,” she said, in a faint voice. -“Eugène, forgive my wrongdoing. I am punished for it, as you see. If I -had listened to you, I should not be standing now on the edge of the -grave.”</p> - -<p>I tried to comfort her, to revive hope in her heart; but I could not; -she knew too well that the mainspring of life was broken.</p> - -<p>I took my place by her side. The day passed without bringing any change -in her condition, but the night was terrible; and about five in the -morning, Pélagie ceased to live.</p> - -<p>I shed tears over the remains of a woman whose life was so brief and -whose happiness was so deceptive.</p> - -<p>Having completed the business to which this sad event required me to -attend, and having paid my wife’s debts, I returned to Nicette.</p> - -<p>“Well?” she said; “your wife?”</p> - -<p>“She is no more!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! my dear, let us weep over her fate! she might have been so happy if -she had loved you!<a name="page_421" id="page_421"></a>”</p> - -<p>To divert my thoughts from that occurrence, I formed the plan of taking -a journey with Nicette. That would complete her training; the sight of -Switzerland and Italy is always profitable to those who can think and -remember.</p> - -<p>Nicette was ready to go with me; wherever she could be with me, she was -perfectly happy; it mattered little to her under what sky or in what -climate we were to pass our lives. To her I was the world, pleasure, -happiness. Ah! Nicette! love me so always! If you should ever be false -to me, then I should know that no one on earth is worthy of love or -faith.</p> - -<p>We started in a berlin which I had bought, so that we were free to halt -wherever some monument should arouse our admiration, or some fact of -history our interest; that is the only agreeable and profitable way to -travel.</p> - -<p>We made the tour of Switzerland. I was anxious to show Nicette the -splendors of Mont Cenis, and we stopped at an inn near the foot of the -mountain. I observed that there was a great commotion in the house. I -ordered a room, and the maid who showed us the way to it kept uttering -exclamations.</p> - -<p>“What has happened here, in heaven’s name?” I asked her; “you all seem -much excited. You have guests here, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, monsieur, a party of foreigners arrived this morning, to climb the -mountain; there are Englishmen and Frenchmen and Russians, a whole party -of sightseers, in fact. But that isn’t what distresses us so. You see, -monsieur, this morning before breakfast all these gentlemen were -together, and they began to talk about tables d’hôte. One man said that -he liked them because<a name="page_422" id="page_422"></a> he ate very fast; another declared that he was a -better eater than any of the rest, and that he’d eat six eggs before -breakfast and, even then, eat faster than anyone; they laughed at him, -so he bet ten louis, and an Englishman took the bet. The poor man -ordered hard-boiled eggs; he ate them, and then began his breakfast; oh! -he went at it in fine style, I tell you! and so he won his ten louis. -But just after, he turned yellow, red, and blue; they had to put him to -bed, and instead of climbing the mountain he’s likely to die on our -hands.”</p> - -<p>“It’s an Englishman, of course, who undertook that pretty trick?”</p> - -<p>“No, monsieur; a Frenchman.”</p> - -<p>“A Frenchman!”</p> - -<p>“If you want to see him, everybody’s standing round his bed; everyone -has some remedy to save his life.”</p> - -<p>I was curious to see the fellow. I left Nicette and bade the girl show -me to the dying man’s room. As I entered, he breathed his last, as a -result of his wager. I glanced at his face, and recognized my neighbor -Raymond.</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border:3px dotted gray;padding:2%;"> -<tr><th align="center">Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:</th></tr> -<tr><td align="center">interrupting her <span class="errata">converversation</span>=> interrupting her conversation {pg 78}</td></tr> -<tr><td align="center">which I was <span class="errata">detemined</span>=> which I was determined {pg 198}</td></tr> -<tr><td align="center">even though one <span class="errata">act</span> wretchedly=> even though one acts wretchedly {pg 287}</td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of My Neighbor Raymond (Novels of Paul de -Kock Volume XI), by Charles Paul de Kock - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND *** - -***** This file should be named 41083-h.htm or 41083-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/0/8/41083/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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