Bertrand, returning to the salon; "monsieur's off to the country; he has
sent for something and that means that he isn't likely to return very
soon."
"Yes, he has sent for money," said Virginie, with a sigh. "God! how the
man does throw it away! It's frightful! If he only gave me a quarter of
what he----"
Virginie checked herself; she realized that she had made a mistake.
Madame Saint-Edmond cast a contemptuous glance at her and left the room,
saying to Bertrand:
"All that I ask you, monsieur, is to be kind enough to let me know when
Monsieur Dalville returns."
"I shall not fail, madame," replied the corporal, escorting the neighbor
to the door. In the reception room she said to him:
"I don't know who this hussy is that I found installed in Monsieur
Dalville's apartment; but she acts like a fishwoman, and her manner is
so insolent that I wouldn't have her for my cook."
When the neighbor had gone, Virginie concluded to resume her hat and
shawl.
"Well," she muttered, "I may as well go, as that good-for-nothing isn't
coming home. It's a nuisance, though, for I really needed to see him. I
wanted to ask him--That idiot of a landlord is always in my rooms! Oh!
how he tires me! He's furious because he tried to make love to me and I
wouldn't listen to him. Think of it--a little seducer of fifty-five!
What do you suppose he did, Bertrand, in the hot weather? He came to see
me in the morning in his dressing gown; but one day, when the wind blew,
I saw that my gentleman was dressed underneath like--like a
Scotchman!--'Come, come,' said I to myself, 'this is too free and easy!
If he comes here that way for the purpose of seducing me, just a
minute!'--He wouldn't go away, so I called the concierge and had the
landlord put out of my room. Since then, he's as ugly as sin. Well, I'll
come back very soon.--Ah! I know where I'll go. Yes, that fat
Englishman, who was willing to set me up in business, on condition
that--Good! I'll go and tell him that I've found a linen-draper's shop.
After all, I am tired of living this way; I mean to have a shop. I
wouldn't look so bad behind a counter, would I, Bertrand?--I say, the
neighbor was pretty well stirred up, wasn't she? She went before I did;
in fact, she'd have had to carry me to make me go first, because when I
take a thing into my head, I don't--Adieu, my little Bertrand."
Mademoiselle Virginie slipped through the door and downstairs, humming.
"Gad!" said Bertrand to himself as he looked after her, "if my
lieutenant had come home, I don't quite know how things would have
turned out. This one's a regular demon, and the other, with her die-away
voice, was beginning to make eyes like pistol shots, too! Never mind, I
got out of it pretty well; at all events nobody fainted this time, and
that's what I am always afraid of. Thunder and guns! I'd rather have ten
raw recruits to lick into shape than one fainting woman to bring to. In
fact, there are some of 'em that are quite obstinate about it."
"Whenever you're ready, Monsieur Bertrand," said little Tony, following
the ex-corporal into the salon.
"Ah! to be sure, my boy; I forgot all about it. He must have money,
always money! Well, come with me, and we'll go to the strong-box.
Sacrebleu! it makes me feel bad to keep taking out and never putting
back. When I tell monsieur so, he says: 'Go to my notary.'--That's all
right; I know that the notary always gives me money; but by giving and
giving--However, the lieutenant's the master, and I must obey.--How much
does he want, Tony?"
"Fifty louis, Monsieur Bertrand."
"Fifty louis! he had that much in his purse yesterday when he started
for that ball! What in the devil do they do at these swell parties, to
get rid of so much money in one evening? It seems that he's no luckier
at these Thomassinets--Thomassinières'--than he is anywhere else!"
"Oh! it was very fine, Monsieur Bertrand!"
"Ah! so you saw it, did you?"
"Yes, I went up to the servants' quarters. They gave me ices and punch
and cakes."
"Oho! I can understand that you liked that! But do you know that with
the twelve hundred francs that monsieur lost at cards, we could have had
some famous cakes here?--Here, my boy, here's the yellow boys; look out
not to lose them."
"Oh! don't be afraid, Monsieur Bertrand, the cabriolet's waiting for me
at the door."
"And don't drive Bébelle too fast, d'ye hear?"
The little groom had already gone. Bertrand was still standing in front
of the strong-box, which was open. He counted the remaining contents,
and frowned; he seemed terrified by the rapidity with which Dalville was
spending his money. He closed the desk at last, with a shake of the
head, saying: "It's his; he has the right to dispose of it." And to
dispel his melancholy thoughts, Bertrand went down to the cellar and
brought up a bottle of old burgundy, because, being entrusted with the
duty of watching the wine, he wished to be sure that it did not run
away.
IX
MADEMOISELLE TAPOTTE AND THE MARQUIS
We have heard little Tony say that his master was at Madame de la
Thomassinière's ball; whence we must conclude that, since the day at
Madame Destival's country house, Dalville and the wealthy speculator had
become more intimate. Auguste, being invited by the gushing Athalie, had
not failed to accept her invitations, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière,
seeing that Dalville joined in all the pleasure parties without
calculating the expense, that he played for high stakes, and lost with
the best grace imaginable, agreed with madame that the young man was of
the sort to go all lengths.
Madame Destival was secretly furious to see Dalville amid the throng of
Madame de la Thomassinière's adorers; but that did not prevent her from
continuing to call that lady "my love" and "my dear," because she would
have been sorry not to be invited to the gorgeous parties given by the
capitalist; and although she went to his house solely to seek subjects
for criticism, and although Monsieur Destival could not eat his dinner
for wrath at seeing a table much better served than his own, they were
very glad to subject themselves to these vexations.
Is it surprising that Dalville, in that whirlpool of dissipation, and
constantly in the company of charming women who chose him for their
escort--is it surprising that he should have forgotten the milkmaid of
Montfermeil? However, the memory of Denise was not altogether effaced
from his mind, and on several occasions he had formed the plan of going
to the village to see the child and the young woman; but when he was on
the point of carrying out his plan, some new invitation, some festivity
that he could not miss, detained him in Paris, where the time passes so
quickly for happy people.
It was to her country estate, at Fleury, that the charming Athalie
conveyed Auguste and three other gentlemen who had been at her ball.
Madame had devised the party while dancing a quadrille, and had
determined that they would eat fresh eggs on the grass, while walking
through the "ladies' chain." Auguste and the other three young men were
invited and they instantly accepted. Madame de la Thomassinière, who
displayed no less activity in her amusements than variety in her
costumes, issued her orders at once. Her husband alone knew nothing of
the excursion; and at eight o'clock in the morning, when the four
gentlemen were finally induced to leave the écarté table, madame gave
them seats in her calèche, laughing like a madwoman at the idea of
abducting thus four cavaliers in full dress. Monsieur de la
Thomassinière was in bed, but his valet was instructed to inform him
when he woke where he could find madame, in case he should desire to
join her.
A word or two that Madame Destival had heard during the night had
apprised her of the delightful project for the morning; and as she and
her husband were not of the party, they returned home in very ill humor.
"Always some new form of dissipation!" said Madame Destival, with a
bitter smile. "That Madame de la Thomassinière is at her wits' end to
invent something that will ruin her husband."
"If she only would ruin him!" exclaimed Destival; "but no; that man has
the greatest luck! Everything succeeds with him. However, he doesn't
shine by his wit, that's sure enough! But he has just made sixty
thousand francs in a transaction that I had in view."
"Well, monsieur, why didn't you carry it out?"
"I hadn't funds enough to buy the debt, madame."
"You should borrow, find the money. Really, monsieur, you ought to blush
for shame when you see the show of magnificence that that Thomassinière
makes, and you do not outshine him. Those people have eight servants,
and I have just one wretched maid and an ill-tempered footman who does
everything!--I want a lady's maid, monsieur; I insist upon having one!"
"Before long, madame, I hope----"
"They have a calèche and a landau and a coupé, and we have only a very
shabby cabriolet! But monsieur must needs learn to drill, instead of
giving his attention to making money!"
"I have several affairs under way, madame. If I sell Monin that
house----"
"Well, come to some conclusion about it, monsieur. I tell you that I
can't live like this any longer; I must have two new cashmeres, a lady's
maid, a calèche, and a country house where I can give parties; not like
that old barrack at Livry, which I can't endure now."
"Never fear, madame. I must have a clerk, a man cook, and a negro
servant. I am going to venture into some new schemes, and you will see
that we will soon crush that miserable parvenu, who murders the language
with an assurance that suffocates me."
The calèche, drawn by two spirited horses, bore away Athalie and the
four young men of fashion, among whom was Dalville. Each of the four
paid court to the petite-maîtresse, who had the art of distributing a
word, a smile, a glance, to each in turn, and revelled deliciously in
the homage that was laid at her feet. Is there a greater joy for a true
coquette than to be surrounded by men who wear her chains? Athalie was
vivacious and playful; they knew that, to please her, they must be
overflowing with hilarity, and the four gentlemen vied with one another
in doing and saying the most extravagant things. Among all the _bons
mots_ that were made, there were some very bad ones; for the more one
tries to be witty, the less success one has. But Athalie, grateful for
the efforts they made to entertain her, greeted them all with bursts of
laughter; and the gentlemen zealously followed suit, although they would
have been sorely puzzled sometimes to say what they were laughing about.
In the midst of this running fire of nonsense, the light vehicle arrived
at the country house.
Madame de la Thomassinière's property at Fleury was a charming abode,
which, in truth, left the little country house at Livry a long way
behind. There, everything witnessed to luxury and elegance: spacious
courtyards, cardrooms, ballrooms and banquet-halls; peristyles of a
severely simple style of architecture led to daintily furnished
apartments; nothing had been forgotten that could increase the comfort
and pleasure of the occupants of that charming abode. In the gardens,
which were of vast extent, you found summer-houses for reading, for
work, or for repose; cool grottoes, shady walks, dense shrubbery,
labyrinths where one could lose oneself, delicious nooks where the
rippling murmur of a brook invited one to dream or to do something else;
and over that enchanting spot a lovely woman of twenty years reigned
supreme and gave no thought to anything save the invention of new forms
of amusement.
While the mistress of the house gave orders for an out-of-door
breakfast, the gentlemen strolled about the gardens and admired their
manifold beauties. Auguste walked alone toward a hedge between the
garden and the orchard. It was a part of the garden where no one ever
walked. Why, then, did Auguste turn his steps in that direction? Because
he had caught sight of a short skirt and a little cap beyond the hedge,
and an irresistible fascination drew the young man toward whatever
suggested anything feminine.
Auguste entered the orchard, therefore, and saw a young woman picking
apricots. She had neither the refined features nor the charm of Denise.
She was simply a rosy-cheeked, fresh, buxom damsel; but there are men
who prefer that to waterfalls, grottoes and labyrinths constructed at
vast expense; Auguste was one of them. Who would believe that a simple
petticoat may be awarded the preference over the marvelous creations of
art; that it may disturb the peace of an empire, overturn a republic,
crush a whole people, astound the universe, ordain laws, and cause half
of mankind to lose their senses? O Cleopatra, Elizabeth, Delilah,
Judith, Ninon! your petticoats wrought all these miracles! To be sure,
it was not your petticoats exactly to which your thanks were due.
The stout girl was standing on a ladder that rested against the tree,
and was plucking the ripest fruit. Auguste walked to the ladder and
looked up; I presume that he was looking at the apricots.
"I say! what are you doing there, monsieur?" said the girl, when, upon
turning her head, she discovered the young man.
"My dear girl, I am admiring. I am a great lover of the beauties of
nature, and I am as well able to appreciate them in sackcloth as in
silk."
The stout girl, who did not understand this language, concluded that the
gentleman was fond of apricots, and offered him one, saying:
"Here, monsieur, here's one that's good and ripe."
Auguste took the apricot and walked still nearer the ladder.
"I'm afraid that you'll fall," he said to the gardener; "I'll hold the
ladder."
"Oh! it ain't worth while, monsieur, thanks; I know how to do it; anyway
I can cling to the branches."
However, Auguste remained at the foot of the ladder, and as the girl was
on the fourth rung, the young man's hand naturally found itself in close
proximity to her leg, and, naturally again, that hand caressed a woolen
stocking encasing a calf with which a dancer at the Opéra would have
been content.
The gardener continued to gather fruit while Auguste patted her calf.
"On my word!" he thought, "here's a peasant who knows what's what, who
is learned in the ways of the world. She is not precisely one of
Florian's shepherdesses. This leg reminds me rather of Teniers's Flemish
women; but at all events, it doesn't scratch, and that's very lucky, for
with such calves as these, the scar would be lasting."
"When I heard someone coming behind me," said the girl, "I thought at
first 'twas monsieur."
"Monsieur! what monsieur?" inquired Auguste.
"Pardi! monsieur le bourgeois, my master."
"Ah! Monsieur de la Thomassinière?"
"Why, yes."
"So he comes into his orchard sometimes, does he?"
"Oh, yes! he comes here."
"Does he like apricots?"
"Oh, yes! apricots, and something else."
"Does he take hold of your leg too, my child?"
"Does he! pardi! rather! Catch him holding back!"
The stout girl chuckled, and Auguste said to himself:
"It seems that Monsieur de la Thomassinière, who talks of nothing but
the duchesses, countesses and baronesses he courts, dances attendance on
and deigns to be tender with his gardener. How many men try to take
credit in society for brilliant conquests, when they have triumphed over
nobody but their cook! However, there are many baronesses whose calves
aren't as firm as these."
While he indulged in these reflections, the young man continued to pat
the leg, and the stout girl to laugh. Her basket being full, she began
to descend the ladder, and, as Auguste did not lower his hand, that
member necessarily found itself above the calf, where there was still
much to pat, and the stout girl laughed louder than ever.
"Does Monsieur de la Thomassinière permit himself to embrace you also?"
Auguste asked, looking the gardener in the face.
"Well, I say! well, pardié! Well, well, but you make me laugh!"
At that moment Auguste saw Athalie's pretty cap over the hedge, as that
lady approached the orchard. He ceased instantly to make the stout girl
laugh, and asked her hastily:
"Your name?"
"Tapotte."
"And your room?"
"Over there, at the end, by the shed where they keep the hay."
"Good; adieu--I'll see you again."
With that the young man walked quickly to the entrance to the orchard
and passed through at the very moment that Athalie reached the hedge.
"Where have you been hiding, monsieur?" she asked, with a smile.
"Why, madame--I went in here, you see, not knowing that it was the
orchard, and, to tell you the truth, I have been eating your fruit."
"Before breakfast? that is very wrong. I am a wee bit selfish; I don't
like anybody to take any pleasure without me. I supposed that you had
found some milkmaid here on my place, some peasant girl, whose--ruddy
complexion had taken your fancy."
"Oh, madame!"
"I do not think, however, that this establishment contains any rustic
beauties worthy of your homage; for I assume that you still have some
taste, and I agree that the little milkmaid was not bad-looking."
"True, true, she was very pretty; and you remind me----"
"Nonsense, monsieur; give me your arm and come to breakfast; everything
is ready on a plot of greensward shaded by honeysuckle. The other
gentlemen are waiting for us, and it is an unheard-of thing that I
should have to come in search of you."
"If you would allow me to find you sometimes, madame, you would not have
that trouble."
"Oh! no sentiment, monsieur, I beg; remember that we came here only to
be foolish."
They reached the shady nook where a dainty repast was spread. A
petite-maîtresse puts coquetry into everything, and the open-air
breakfast, although it consisted simply of milk, eggs, butter, fruit and
excellent wine, seemed far richer when served by a lovely woman, in
china decorated with lovely landscapes. Daintiness never spoils
anything; it often enhances the value of the simplest things, and a
certain wine which has a most delectable flavor in an artistically cut
glass, might seem poor stuff in a beer mug.
They had been at table a quarter of an hour, talking, laughing, and
eating heartily, because dancing, enjoyment and the fresh air sharpen
the appetite, when they heard Monsieur de la Thomassinière's voice in a
path near by.
"There's my husband," said Athalie; "I was sure that he'd come; he's
very fond of this place. But he has brought somebody with him."
"Let us pray that it isn't some horrible bore," said one of the young
men.
"Oh! what does it matter? If it's anyone who bores me, I shall pay no
attention to him, and you must do as I do, messieurs."
Monsieur de la Thomassinière appeared with a man of mature years, but
dressed in the latest fashion, whose gait and manners, and even his
voice, were affected. He had a distinguished face, but his look was a
little deceitful; he smiled almost constantly, and frequently raised to
his eyes an eye-glass, through which he admired the flowers, trees and
shrubs.
"Here they are!" said Monsieur de la Thomassinière, when he caught sight
of the little party. "My valet did not deceive me, and my concierge's
information was accurate. This way, monsieur le marquis, this way."
"What's this? my husband has brought a marquis to see me!" exclaimed
Athalie; "come, messieurs, we must make a little room for him. Really,
Monsieur de la Thomassinière is as rattle-brained as I am! The idea of
not letting me know!"
"This is exquisite, enchanting! It is all in the most perfect taste!"
exclaimed the marquis, going into ecstasies over everything he saw. When
he caught sight of the little party of five, he made a very low bow to
the mistress of the house, who had risen to receive him; while Monsieur
de la Thomassinière, who felt two feet taller since he had brought home
a marquis, bestowed a patronizing nod on the young men, and said to his
wife, taking his companion's hand:
"Madame, this is Monsieur le Marquis de Cligneval, who has been kind
enough to condescend to allow me to bring him to call upon you. He came
to see me at my house this morning about a _consequential_ matter. I
said to him: 'We can talk about this just as well at my place in the
country.' That suited him, and gad! I had my dapple-grey horse put in
the cabriolet, monsieur le marquis got in with me, I gave the beast a
cut with my whip, and zeste! we were off like the wind.--My dapple-grey
goes prettily, eh, monsieur le marquis?"
"Like an angel, my dear fellow.--Pray excuse me, madame, for appearing
in morning dress."
"One is always suitably attired in the country, monsieur; and these
gentlemen, you will observe, are dressed just as I brought them away
from a ball, without giving them time to change their clothes. But you
will breakfast with us, I trust?"
"With pleasure, madame."
"Oh, yes!" said La Thomassinière, shaking Monsieur de Cligneval's hand;
"oh, yes! the marquis will have some breakfast; he promised. I'll have
some, too."
"Take your seats then, messieurs, and be content with what I have to
give you."
Madame gave the marquis a seat by her side; Monsieur de la Thomassinière
would have liked to sit on the marquis's other side, but he was obliged
to be content with a seat opposite him. Monsieur de Cligneval did full
justice to the breakfast; he declared everything excellent, delicious,
exquisite, although La Thomassinière exhausted his breath saying to him:
"Oh! I usually have much better things to eat. But we didn't know,
madame was not notified. I hope to treat you much better another time.
This is an unpretentious repast; but when I choose, I do things very
nicely."
While praising the food, Monsieur de Cligneval found time to bestow
compliments on the hostess. The marquis was well bred; he carried a
little too far perhaps the determination to make his good breeding
apparent; but he was agreeable and witty, and the whole party was soon
in high spirits, even Monsieur de la Thomassinière, who never laughed
because he thought it bad form, but who laughed very loud now in order
to copy monsieur le marquis.
When she passed the fruit, Athalie found several that were not ripe.
"These apricots are good for nothing," she said to a servant.
"We must have some better ones than these," cried La Thomassinière.
"Tell the gardener to bring some at once--the best she can find."
The servant obeyed, and Mademoiselle Tapotte soon arrived with a basket
filled with superb fruit, which she handed to Athalie, keeping her eyes
on the ground as if she dared not look at the guests; whereas, on the
contrary, the young men scrutinized the buxom creature, making comments
in undertones, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière cast furtive glances at
her.
"That is right!" said Athalie, as she took the basket, "these are fine.
See, messieurs, they have just been picked; they look much
better.--Another time, Tapotte, don't send me green fruit."
"No, madame," said the gardener, with a very awkward curtsy; then she
took her leave, much redder than when she came.
"What did you call that stout damsel, madame?" inquired one of the young
men.
"Tapotte, monsieur."
"Indeed! that's a queer name."
"It's amusing," said the marquis.
"Yes, very amusing," rejoined La Thomassinière. And Auguste reflected
that the name was well deserved.
"She's not a bad-looking girl," said one of the young men.
"Oh! what can you see that's attractive in that creature?" cried
Athalie; "she's heavy and awkward and vulgar."
"Mon Dieu! she's a huge mass of flesh that moves, and that's all," said
the marquis.
"Yes, yes," assented La Thomassinière, blushing slightly, "she moves,
she moves, and, as monsieur le marquis says, she knows how to do nothing
else."
"What are you laughing at, Monsieur Dalville?" Athalie asked Auguste;
"at Mademoiselle Tapotte? You have said nothing about her."
"I'll bet that monsieur agrees with me," said the marquis, "and that he
sees nothing about her that deserves to be looked at a second time."
"He!" rejoined Athalie; "oh! you don't know him, monsieur; he detects
charms under round caps and calico dresses."
"I don't deny it, madame, and I do not think that it is necessary to
wear fine clothes in order to be beautiful. As for your gardener,
certainly she has neither pretty features nor a pretty figure; but, for
all that, her freshness and bloom, her good-natured appearance----"