make her his wife; he will love in her the mother of his children, and
will never leave her. Don't you suppose that those things weigh more in
the scales than the glances and sighs and pretty speeches of the young
man from Paris?"
"You are right, Bertrand; sometimes I have no common sense. Let us say
no more about Denise. I will go to see her when she's married; but until
then I don't propose to go to Montfermeil again; the girl is too
enticing."
"Bravo! that is acting like an honorable man, lieutenant."
Auguste started for his notary's; as he went downstairs he met Madame
Saint-Edmond for the first time since the adventure at the Tournebride.
At sight of Auguste, Léonie stopped, leaned against the wall, turned her
head away, drew her handkerchief, and omitted nothing calculated to give
the impression that she was about to faint; but Auguste, paying no heed
to his neighbor's expressive pantomime, contented himself with a low
bow, and passed without stopping.
The notary handed Dalville the funds which he had in his hands belonging
to him. Auguste put two hundred and fifty thousand francs in his wallet,
and left the balance with Bertrand, urging him to be less economical in
his expenditure, because, as their fortune was about to be doubled, he
did not see why they should deny themselves anything. The next
afternoon, at five, Auguste took his wallet and went to Destival's
house, bidding Bertrand enjoy himself while he was away. To obey his
master, the ex-corporal went in search of his friend Schtrack, with whom
he proposed to take a short promenade.
The business agent had taken larger apartments than those he formerly
occupied. He had mounted his household with more splendor, and although
he could not as yet rival Monsieur de la Thomassinière in magnificence,
it was plain that he was doing all that he could to approach him. As a
general rule, however, the pains that one takes to deceive the eyes do
not have the hoped-for result, and serve only to arouse mockery. One
rarely succeeds in art by departing from one's specialty; and in the
world he who tries to make himself out what he is not, is a
laughing-stock. In vain does the grisette, beneath her big bonnet,
strive to copy the simpers of a lady in society; in vain does the
tailor's apprentice, newly-clad from head to foot, believe that, because
he is dressed in the latest fashion, he has the air and aspect of a
stockbroker. The natural characteristics always show through; one may
impose on the multitude, and amid the multitude pass for what one is
not; but at the slightest examination,
"The mask falls, the man remains,
The hero vanishes."
Thus we find in the world a great many people who would be most
estimable and would not arouse criticism, if they did not try to do more
than they are able to do. An under clerk, with a salary of a hundred
louis, must needs give evening parties, balls; the house is turned
topsy-turvy; beds are taken down to make more room, a piano is hired,
and lamps of all kinds; decanters of syrups are prepared, and punch, and
there is a supper. But, despite all the trouble he has taken, the
company, much too numerous for the tiny apartments, cannot find room.
There are not enough chairs; the paper behind the beds is of a different
color and betrays the moving in the morning; the piano is out of tune;
the refreshments, bought all made, are not sweet enough, because the
sugar has been used sparingly in order to make another decanter of
syrup; the lamps refuse to burn, because the host is not familiar with
them; the punch is compounded of poor brandy, because they bought the
cheapest brand; and at supper you will find nothing but stale bread to
eat with the fowl that is handed you. People love to criticise; you
laugh quietly at everything that is bad, entirely oblivious to what is
all right. Now, is it not much better to give, instead of this, an
unpretentious party, to have fewer guests, and to leave the bed in
place; to have one less cold joint, and to serve fresh bread; in short,
to put aside the ambition to have a grand reception, and aim at nothing
more than getting a few friends together?
At Monsieur Destival's the beds were not taken down because they had a
salon large enough to hold a numerous company; the lamps burned well,
because they were frequently used; and the punch was good, because
Madame Destival knew nothing of that false economy by virtue of which
nothing is ever done well. But Domingo, stationed in the reception room
to announce the guests, and Baptiste, who ran constantly from one room
to another to execute his masters's orders, and who commented aloud on
everything that he was told to do, produced an irresistibly comical
effect, largely because Destival was incessantly calling one or the
other of them by the epithets of "knave" and "rascal."
When Dalville arrived he found several persons in the salon; he
recognized Monsieur Monin and his better half, the latter of whom did
not wear a shepherdess's hat on this occasion, but a huge turban
beneath which her fat face strikingly resembled a Turk's. Auguste had
hardly entered the salon when Monin inquired concerning the state of his
health. Madame Destival accorded him a most gracious welcome, and her
reproaches for the infrequency of his visits were uttered in such an
amiable tone that they could not fail to make him regret that he had
earned them.
Before Auguste had looked at the other guests, Monsieur Destival entered
the salon, and at sight of Dalville uttered a joyful cry as if he had
thought him dead; then he ran to him and grasped his hands, saying:
"Here is our dear friend; it is really he! he has not failed us! How
kind of him! You see, it is a great favor to have him here! He has so
many acquaintances, so many invitations! he can hardly keep track of
them all.--Have you thought about our little investment?" he added in an
undertone.
"I have the money with me," said Auguste.
"In that case, let us step into my study and fix it up before dinner, so
that we need think of nothing but enjoying ourselves."
"Very well."
"A million pardons, mesdames, for taking our dear Dalville away from
you; I promise to restore him to you in five minutes; otherwise I
imagine that you would hate me mortally."
As he spoke, Destival led Auguste into his study, where the younger man
produced his wallet. Having counted the notes, the business agent locked
them up in his desk and gave Auguste a receipt for the amount, which
Auguste put in his pocket.
"That's all right," he said; "I will examine this when I am at home."
Then the gentlemen returned to the salon, Dalville eager to make the
acquaintance of two or three attractive women of whom he had caught a
glimpse, and Destival as radiant as if he had just discovered a diamond
mine.
The company was increased by several persons among whom Auguste noticed
three sisters, young and pretty, whose manners and speech and smiles,
however, were never free from affectation; a very merry and talkative
young woman, ready to joke with everybody, but especially with the
gentlemen; a silly little creature of sixteen, very shy and awkward, who
dared not leave her mamma's chair or look at the persons to whom she
spoke. A tall man with spectacles, who ran his nose against the
paintings, engravings, screens and decanters, persisted in handling and
examining everything, shaking his head and emitting an occasional _hum!
hum!_ doubtless fraught with meaning; while a short man, embarrassed by
his huge paunch, his short arms, and his small head, not knowing what to
do with himself, stood first on one leg, then on the other, played with
his watch chain, stuck out his tongue when anybody looked at him, and
scratched his nose when nobody was looking.
Generally speaking, the female portion of the company seemed more select
than the male portion; but a business agent has to do with all classes,
and it frequently happens that it is not the most fashionably dressed
men through whom the most money is to be made.
Monin remained almost all the time behind his wife's chair, leaving his
station only to inquire for somebody's health; and, when he had put his
question to some new arrival, he would return with a smile on his face,
open his snuff-box, and offer it to _Bichette_, who, despite her turban,
emulated her husband in the size of her pinch.
The clock struck six, and Domingo came writhing into the room, and said
in a jargon composed of all known languages:
"Master, soup served."
And Monin, who had not noticed the negro in the reception room, and who
supposed that he was a trader from the coast of Guinea, who was invited
to dinner, was about to leave his wife's chair to ask him how his health
was, when Bichette, divining her husband's purpose, caught him by his
coat, saying:
"Where on earth are you going, Monsieur Monin? Stay where you are! Don't
you see that that's Monsieur Destival's negro?"
"What! is that a negro, Bichette?"
"Do you mean to say that you can't see it for yourself?"
"Yes, of course; but I'll tell you--I thought he was talking German.
'Soup served,' he said."
"Well, monsieur, is that German, I'd like to know? Still, when a person
makes so much talk about having a negro, he ought to teach him to walk.
Do you suppose I'd have a groom that acted as if he had lead in his
breeches? A sweet creature, their Domingo! He's some wretched savage
who's been soaked in licorice juice to make a negro of him."
"Dinner is served, and Monsieur and Madame de la Thomassinière have not
come!" said Madame Destival, snappishly.
"We are only waiting for them. They are terrible people--never on time!
It's after six."
"Six ten," said the tall man in spectacles. "I am always with the sun;
hum! hum!"
"Six seven," said Monin, consulting his watch.
"You are slow, monsieur; hum! hum!"
"My husband sets his watch every day by the cannon at the Palais-Royal,"
said Madame Monin, with a disdainful glance at the spectacled man; while
the little man with short arms stood thrice on his right leg and twice
on his left, in his struggles to draw his watch from his fob; and,
having finally succeeded in producing a silver time-piece, to which a
gold chain was attached, he gazed a long time at the dial and said:
"Yes, it must be about that."
"Faith," said Destival, "if La Thomassinière weren't going to bring his
wife, we wouldn't wait any longer, for it's ridiculous to keep a whole
large party waiting like this; but a pretty woman always has some
additional touch to give her costume, and we must always forgive the
Graces.--Domingo, see that the entrées are kept warm. Baptiste, have the
chafing dishes red hot. Come, you knaves, move a little more quickly
when I give an order!"
Domingo did not move any more quickly, because the doeskin breeches made
it impossible. Baptiste, always in ill humor, pushed the negro roughly,
muttering:
"Well, you darkie! A pretty sort of assistant to give me! He can't do
anything but break dishes and steal liquor! I wish he'd drink so much
that he'd smash the whole crockery closet! That would teach 'em to give
a brand new red jacket to that miserable black fellow, when they've made
me wear the same shabby coat for three years."
The half hour struck and the guests' faces lengthened. Auguste talked
with one of his neighbors, who said:
"Don't you think, monsieur, that it's absurd that one or two people
should keep a whole party waiting, and that decent people should be at
the mercy of a fellow who doesn't choose to be prompt? At my house,
monsieur, we dine at a fixed hour; I never wait two minutes for the
people I invite, and they are always prompt, I assure you, for they know
we should dine without them."
Auguste agreed that his neighbor was right. Madame Destival lost
patience; monsieur kept running to the dining-room and back, crying:
"Everything will be cold! The little pâtés won't be eatable! It's
exceedingly unpleasant!"
"Yes," said the man with the spectacles, "warmed-over pastry is good for
nothing, hum! hum! because it's good only when it's just out of the
oven, hum!"
Monin seemed profoundly affected by what was said about the little
pâtés, and the uneasy gentleman scratched his nose with a piteous
expression. At last, about seven o'clock, there was a violent ring and
Monsieur and Madame de la Thomassinière soon entered the salon.
Athalie was resplendent; her costume was magnificent; her neck and arms
were covered with diamonds and their dazzling reflection was in perfect
harmony with the piquant expression of her features. At sight of her,
the men uttered involuntary murmurs of admiration; the women said
nothing, but scrutinized her costume, even to the tiniest details, and
their eyes were unable to dissemble a gleam of jealousy, because
everything was unexceptionable and there was nothing to criticise. Now
criticism is a source of the greatest pleasure in society, where people
do not spare even their friends! Fancy what they say of others!
La Thomassinière, who had made twenty thousand francs that very morning
on a piece of land which he had resold, and who had the Marquis de
Cligneval at his table almost every day, had assumed a more supercilious
air than ever. He puffed himself out until his coat and his cravat were
too tight for him, dragged his feet when he walked, and swayed his body
like a pendulum. As he entered the salon he cast insolent glances upon
all the guests, bowed to nobody, trod upon feet and dresses without
apologizing, and did not answer Monin when he quitted his post behind
Bichette's chair to ask the speculator:
"How's the state of your health?"
"How cruel of you to keep us waiting, my dear La Thomassinière!" said
Monsieur Destival, offering his hand to the parvenu, who patronizingly
gave him two fingers to shake, saying:
"Yes, that is true. But what can I do, when I haven't a moment to
myself? We nearly missed coming. My friend the marquis wanted to take us
into the country; but I thought that it would incommode you if we didn't
come, so I said: 'Let's go.' But it was a close shave, on my word!"
During this conversation, Monin had remained behind La Thomassinière.
Obtaining no reply, he decided to return to his wife; but Bichette, who
saw everything that took place in every corner of the salon, had noticed
that La Thomassinière did not acknowledge her husband's salutation, and
she glared fiercely at the parvenu, as she said to Monin:
"Why did you go to speak to that uncivil fellow?"
"Bichette, I----"
"Why do you need to inquire for everybody's health?"
"Because, Bichette----"
"Are you a friend of those people?"
"You know perfectly well that we met them at Monsieur Destival's. Will
you have a pinch, Bichette?"
"Didn't you notice that the insolent wretch, the pitiful creature, who
makes such a ridiculous splurge, turned his back on you without
acknowledging your greeting?"
"Perhaps he didn't see me, Bichette."
"Not see you! You were right under his nose! You're a chicken-hearted
creature, Monsieur Monin! Those Thomassinières shall pay me for this.
Meanwhile, let me see you speaking to that man or his wife, and I'll
take away your snuff-box for a week."
Monin, terrified by that threat, retreated behind the chair and took
three pinches in rapid succession. But Domingo announced again that
dinner was served, and they all repaired to the dining-room. Dalville
offered his hand to the hostess, a provincial dandy escorted the
gorgeous Athalie, the spectacled gentleman went to the three sisters,
saying that he would take charge of the Graces, La Thomassinière went
out alone, considering doubtless that his own presence was honor enough,
Monin walked at a snail's pace with an old dowager, and Madame Monin
alone was left in the salon with Monsieur Bisbis--the little man who
shifted from one leg to the other;--he skipped forward to the stout lady
in the turban, offered her his right hand, then the left, then the right
again, until Madame Monin, out of patience, seized her escort about the
waist, as if she were going to dance a waltz, and pulled him into the
dining-room.
Dalville occupied one of the places of honor beside the hostess, and on
his other side was the young lady who talked so easily. Athalie was
between the provincial beau and the gentleman with spectacles; her
husband was between an old lady and one of the three sisters. Madame
Monin had her escort for her neighbor, and Monsieur Monin found himself
seated beside the silly school-girl, who dared not raise her eyes, and
to whom he had twice offered snuff when the soup was served.
The dinner was a magnificent affair: three courses, four entrées to
each. Monin had no time to visit his snuff-box; he had not gone beyond
the anchovies, when the first course disappeared. La Thomassinière found
an opportunity to say that the madeira was poor, that the olives were
too salt, that the butter was not so good as that made on his country
place at Fleury, and that two servants were not enough to serve twenty
people. To be sure, he was often obliged to ask twice for a dish,
because Domingo never came quickly enough, and Baptiste got confused and
lost his head running around the table.
During the second course Baptiste dropped a dish of macaroni on Madame
Monin, and Domingo broke a pile of plates because he tried to run.
Madame Monin shrieked because her dress of Naples silk was spotted, and
Madame Destival tried to pacify her. Monsieur Destival scolded his
servants, and Monin dared not fill his glass again because Bichette was
in a rage.
Although he drank freely of all the wines, La Thomassinière kept
repeating that he had much better ones in his cellar. Destival made wry
faces at his wife, who was bright enough to pretend to pay no attention
to the parvenu's absurd talk. Athalie seemed to be bored by the insipid
remarks of her neighbors; Madame Monin was apparently attempting the
conquest of Monsieur Bisbis, who fidgeted on his chair, uncertain how to
eat the charlotte russe, which he finally decided to attack with his
fork. Monin longingly eyed the Roman punch, which he feared would never
reach him, and he said twice to Baptiste:
"I say--er--servant, give me some of that dish they're passing over
there."
But Baptiste, still in ill humor, walked away, muttering between his
teeth:
"I've got something else to do. How all these people eat! There won't be
anything left for us!"
Monin, his appeal being disregarded by Baptiste, decided to apply to
Domingo, to whom he gave his plate, saying:
"Negro, just ask for a little of that shiny stuff for--for a person."
Domingo presented the plate to Monsieur Destival, who was serving the
Roman punch.
"A little shiny stuff," he said, "for little man with big nose."
Everybody laughed, Madame Monin alone taking it very ill that the negro
should presume so to designate her husband; and she vented her wrath on
a third dish of cream, saying to Monsieur Bisbis:
"I'd rather be served by four chimney-sweeps than a negro."
After the coffee and the liqueurs, they left the table in about as
hilarious a mood as when they sat down; that is to say, everyone was
bored, as is usually the case at a formal dinner. But the people invited
for the evening were already coming in crowds; and Destival was
enchanted, because there was hardly room to move, and everyone
exclaimed:
"Mon Dieu! what a crowd! how hot it is here!"
The card tables were set out, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière took his
seat at an écarté table, tossing his purse on the table, saying: "I play
for nothing but gold."
But the young people--that is to say, the young ladies and some few men
who were sensible enough to prefer their conversation to a game of
cards--took refuge in Madame Destival's bedroom. Athalie also went
thither, as did Dalville and other young men. They decided that cards
should be barred out, and, in order to do something, someone proposed
playing games.
The suggestion was accepted, and they seated themselves in a circle.
Madame Monin eagerly joined them and wanted to begin with "In my hole,
in the common hole, and in my neighbor's hole!" which she described to
the others by pointing her forefinger, with much dexterity, to the right
and left and centre of the assemblage; but, despite the neat way in
which Madame Monin put her finger in her neighbor's hole, the game was
voted down, in favor of crambo, which requires the imposing of forfeits;
although Madame Monin declared that it was too easy, and that her head
was full of rhymes. But she ran short on the second round, because the
others had said everything that she knew; so she looked at Monsieur
Bisbis, and said:
"Give me one."
"I'm trying to think of one for myself," whispered Monsieur Bisbis.
They soon tired of crambo, and a young lady having proposed
blind-man's-buff seated, the gentlemen voted unanimously in favor of
that game. The little school-girl began; she recognized the third person
in whose lap she sat--her young cousin, who had come after dinner. After
him came the turn of the tall man with spectacles, who seated himself
cautiously on the ladies' laps, saying:
"Hum! hum! I'll bet I can guess. Hum! hum! I know who it is. Parbleu! if
I could use my hands it would be too easy."
However, he sat down upon the whole party without guessing; luckily
Madame Monin remained and she was readily recognizable. Enchanted to
have been caught, Madame Monin allowed herself to be bandaged, and
hurled herself recklessly at the circle. At the first onslaught her
weight crushed a young dandy, who cried:
"Name me, madame, name me, I beg you!"
"One moment, monsieur; you're in a terrible hurry," said Madame Monin,
trying to find something by which to recognize him.
"Get off me, madame, I can't stand it any longer!" cried the young man,
turning purple.
"It seems to me, monsieur, that you're not so much to be pitied, having
me on your knees."
"I am suffocating, madame."
The buxom dame persisted; but as everybody dreaded to receive her on his
knees, it was proposed to draw forfeits at once, despite the
remonstrances of Madame Monin, who was determined to sit on Monsieur
Bisbis's lap, although he swore that he had nothing to identify him.
One of the three sisters had the forfeits wrapped in the skirt of her
dress. A young officer put in his hand to draw, and spent a very long
time mixing them up, so that there should be no cheating. Athalie
directed operations. She told the young officer to draw; but he
evidently had some difficulty in getting hold, for he was a long time
deciding to remove his hand from its hiding-place in the folds of the
young lady's dress. At last the forfeit was brought forth; it belonged
to the school-girl, and she was told to tell somebody something in
confidence. She hesitated, uncertain to whom she should turn, or rather
because she was afraid to select her little cousin, at whom she glanced
furtively, with a blush. But her mamma was there, so she chose Monsieur
Monin for her confidant.
Monin, who had slipped behind his wife's chair, was amazed when the girl
said to him:
"Will you come with me, monsieur?"
The ex-druggist did not know what to do, so he leaned over his better
half and whispered:
"Shall I go with her, Bichette?"
"Greatly to be pitied, aren't you, for being chosen to receive a young
lady's confidence!" rejoined Madame Monin, smiling at Monsieur Bisbis.
Whereupon Monin allowed the girl to take his hand and lead him to a
corner of the salon, where she whispered in his ear:
"It's been a very fine day, monsieur."
Monin stared at the young lady with a dazed expression.
"What must I answer?" said he.
"Nothing," was the reply.
And the girl returned to her place, while Monin found his way back to
his wife, saying to the people about him:
"It's a pretty game! I didn't know that I knew how to play it."
The next forfeit was Athalie's. She was condemned to _sulk_, and all the
men sulked with her; and while sulking, Dalville obtained an
assignation. A very pretty thing, these innocent games! Well-brought-up
young ladies are forbidden to waltz, but they are permitted to give or
receive confidences, to hide with a young man, or to wait in a little
dark closet until the concierge of the convent is relieved; and there
are always kisses to be given and received in corners, secretly, behind
curtains. If I ever have a daughter, I shall allow her to waltz in my
presence, but forbid her to play _innocent_ games.