go!' I had a bit of money put by, and that paid for my seat in the
diligence, where we was packed together as tight as herrings, saving
your presence, messieurs and mesdames; and here I be in Paris, where
you've feathered your nest so well!"
The Marquis de Cligneval, who was seated opposite Monsieur de la
Thomassinière, determined to put an end to the embarrassment of his
host, upon whose purse he drew too freely not to be ready to shut his
eyes to the lowly condition of his parents. So he hastened to intervene,
and observed pleasantly:
"It is really very amiable on your excellent mother's part to surprise
you like this. She was in such haste that she came in rather a négligé
costume. But what does it matter? you are among your friends. Pray let
her sit beside me; I shall be delighted to make her acquaintance. She
has a most venerable face--a Greek profile. I am very fond of country
people; they have such delightful dispositions."
La Thomassinière looked at the marquis with an expression which
signified: "You have saved my life!" while Mère Thomas exclaimed:
"What's that he says--I came in négligé. But you're wrong, my boy; I put
on my Sunday best."
"Hush! hush, mother, for heaven's sake!" whispered La Thomassinière. "Be
careful; you're speaking to a marquis."
"A what? What did you say, Thomas?--But I say, where's my darter-in-law?
Show her to me, my boy; wouldn't she like to give her man's mother a
kiss?"
"Madame de la Thomassinière, pray embrace your mother-in-law," said
Madame Destival, with a mocking glance at Athalie.
"I can't stand it any longer! I am dying!" murmured Athalie in an
expiring voice; and she fell over upon Auguste, who was seated next her.
"My wife has fainted!" cried La Thomassinière, overjoyed by an incident
which might divert the attention of the company; and he sprang to his
feet and rushed toward his wife, who was already surrounded by several
people.
"Oho! is that your wife, that bleating little minx?" exclaimed Mère
Thomas. "She's ate too much, my boy; she's got the indigestion, sure
enough. Just give her a drink of brandy--that'll settle her stomach."
Someone gave Athalie smelling salts; she was taken into the fresh air;
but she was careful not to recover consciousness. Mère Thomas pushed
away two petites-maîtresses who were aiding her daughter-in-law,
saying:
"Look out, my little darlings, you're stifling the child. Bless me! if
you want to bring her to right off, I know what'll do it; two or three
slaps on the backsides--that'll bring a woman to in short order; it
never fails."
The ladies exchanged glances and moved away from Madame Thomas, saying
to one another:
"This is shocking! it is getting to be unbearable."
"She amuses me immensely, my dear."
"For my part, she makes me blush; whenever she opens her mouth I tremble
for fear that some disgusting remark will come out."
"She has begun well."
"This is a hysterical attack," said La Thomassinière; "madame must be
taken to her room. They always last two or three hours, at least."
"Well, well! that's very nice!" said Mère Thomas.
The hostess was taken to her room, and she vowed to herself that she
would not leave it so long as Madame Thomas should be in the house.
However, for most of the guests the dinner was the most essential thing,
and Madame de la Thomassinière had no sooner been taken from the
dining-room than they all resumed their places at the table, with such
remarks as: "It won't amount to anything; it isn't dangerous." All of
which meant: "We have paid enough attention to the hostess, who thought
it best to faint; now let's think of our stomachs, and not neglect any
longer the delicious dishes that have been prepared for us."
La Thomassinière would gladly have followed his wife; but he realized
that it would be discourteous to leave his guests, with whom he had
already changed his tone. So he returned to his seat, cudgelling his
brain to devise a method of imposing silence on his dear mother.
Destival, meanwhile, fearing that Madame Thomas might be spirited away,
offered her his hand to escort her to her seat by the marquis. Mère
Thomas accepted his hand with a: "Thank 'ee, my man," and planted
herself on a chair beside Monsieur de Cligneval.
"Now, my spark, I don't need your hand no more," she said to her escort;
"when it comes to forks and teeth, I can go it alone, friend."
"She is overflowing with wit!" cried the marquis; "really, her repartees
are delicious!"
La Thomassinière, who was afraid to raise his eyes, tried to hurry the
dinner. But his guests did not support him; they were very comfortable
at table and did full honor to the feast. The marquis stuffed Mère
Thomas; he kept her plate constantly filled, hoping that that would stop
her chatter; but she was a shrewd old girl, who could do two things at
once. While she was eating, she kept repeating:
"Dieu! how good this is! What a fine _fricot_! I ain't never ate
anything as tasted like this! I say, Thomas, my boy, we don't make such
good fricassees to our little cabaret at the sign of the Learned Ass! Do
you remember, boy?"
"Who wants some truffles? who hasn't any truffles?" cried Monsieur de la
Thomassinière, trying to drown his mother's voice. But Madame Destival,
who had heard every word, inquired:
"What do you say, madame? Did Monsieur de la Thomassinière ever keep a
cabaret?"
"La Thomassinière!" echoed Mère Thomas, emptying her glass. "Who's that,
my heart?"
"Your son, madame."
"What! don't you call yourself Thomas no more, my son? So that's what
all them green monkeys stitched with gold, in your outside room, meant
when they said this wa'n't where you lived! What have you dropped your
father's name for, Thomas? Didn't it sound good enough for you? Let me
tell you he was an honest man, who sold wine for six sous a litre
without putting any drugs in it, like your swindlers in Paris!--Excuse
me, friends."
"Monsieur your son calls himself La Thomassinière now," said the
marquis, "from the name of an estate that he has bought. That is the
custom in Paris; he hasn't changed his name but he has lengthened it a
little; it's pleasanter to the ear."
"Yes, to be sure," said La Thomassinière, trying to recover his
self-assurance. "When one has made a fortune as _consequential_ as mine,
one is at liberty to forget. Besides, as monsieur le marquis says, it's
done every day."
"Oh! that makes a difference," rejoined Mère Thomas, "if you've been
a-buying estates. That's worse than the Marquis de Carabas. But for all
that, my boy, you'd ought to sent for me to come to see you sooner; for
I've been just a little bit homesick down to our place; it's a regular
hole, and I couldn't have such a devil of a spree with the two hundred
francs you send me every year."
"Mon Dieu! how outrageous!" cried a lady wearing a cap adorned by a
bird-of-paradise, pushing her chair away from the table; while the
gentlemen glanced at one another, laughing, and Monsieur de la
Thomassinière stretched his feet under the table trying to find those of
his excellent mother, who sat opposite him, and to whom he vainly made
signals to urge her to be quiet.
"What struck that party?" said Mère Thomas, staring at the lady in the
cap. "Is she going to faint too? What's she making faces at me for, with
that tail of a kite on her head?"
"Mother, I implore you!" said La Thomassinière, moving his feet
frantically.
"Down! down, I say! there's dogs under the table, boy. Here's two or
three on 'em running atween my legs. Tell someone to give 'em something
to eat, so they'll leave us alone. Give me a drink! Who's going to fill
my glass? you, old boy?"
It was the marquis to whom this question was addressed; he took a
decanter of madeira that stood before him and filled the glass of his
neighbor, who always refused to drink without touching glasses.
"What's this yellow wine, my boy?"
"Madeira, madame."
"Pretty good, eh?"
"Perfect! it's the best I ever drank."
"Here's your health then, my buck; and yours, old fox!"
The last remark was addressed to Madame Thomas's left hand neighbor, an
old chevalier, with his hair curled and powdered in the style in vogue
during the Regency, who seemed extremely ill-pleased to be seated beside
Monsieur de la Thomassinière's mother. He turned his head whenever she
looked at him, and did not answer when she spoke to him. This time
Madame Thomas held her glass over the old fellow's plate, so that it was
impossible for him to avoid replying, and he muttered disdainfully:
"I don't drink, madame."
"Ah! you don't drink, don't you, old bean-pole? Well then, you can go
without, that's all. You needn't put on so many airs; you look as
pleasant as a bad clove!--Your health, my son, and yours, messieurs,
mesdames, and the whole company; and yours, too, you green monkey, as
didn't want to let me in."
This compliment was aimed at Lafleur. Monsieur de la Thomassinière beat
his brow in despair, while the marquis repeated till he was hoarse:
"Excellent! excellent! The old patriarchal custom--to drink everybody's
health. Noah's children always touched one another's glasses."
Madame Thomas tossed off the glass of madeira at a swallow; but when she
had drunk it, she made a wry face and glared at the marquis, crying:
"God! what vile stuff your madeira is! Bah! it tastes like a donkey's
water right in your mouth, my children!"
All the ladies cried out and hid their faces behind their napkins. The
men laughed; and Madame Thomas, who saw nothing unnatural in what she
had said and thought that they shared her amusement, caused her glass to
be filled with another kind of wine; while her son sank back in his
chair, muttering:
"I am a ruined man!"
The more Madame Thomas drank, the more loquacious she became. In vain
did the marquis fill her plate, and Monsieur de la Thomassinière call to
his servants: "Serve monsieur! Remove madame's plate!" the stout old
lady's voice soared above those of all her fashionable neighbors, for
people of fashion are not in the habit of speaking loud.
The old gentleman with the pigeon's wings, whom Madame Thomas had called
a clove, could not digest that insult; he scowled terribly, tried to
turn his back on his neighbor, and muttered:
"It's abominable to invite people like myself to compromise their
dignity with such riff-raff! Gad! if they ever catch me here again! I am
terribly distressed that I came."
For all that, the old chevalier did not go away, but ate and drank for
four, by way of compensation for the annoyance that he felt.
Mère Thomas wanted some of everything, she called for all the dishes
that she saw, and she would say to the marquis:
"What's that, my fine little fellow?"
"_Poulet à la Marengo_, madame."
"My soul! how it's disguised! Never mind, just pass me a wing.--And
what's that black stew over yonder?"
"A salmi of partridge _aux truffes_."
"That must be heating; but give me a bit of your _salmigondis aux
truffes_, I'll take the chances.--and that big dish all covered over
with sauce?"
"That's a _Sultane à la Chantilly_."
"A sultana! The dear boy! does he take us for Turks, I wonder! Just give
me a taste of that too, so that I'll know how those miserable dogs
cook."
"You'll make yourself ill, Madame Thomas," said La Thomassinière in an
undertone, horrified to see his mother's eyes grow brighter and
brighter, and that she insisted on tasting all the wines as well as all
the dishes.
"Get out, boy, I've got a stomach like an ostrich! Don't you remember
the bet I made one day with our cousin as kept the eating house? A fine
man, he was! He died three year ago, poor Chahû!"
"Lafleur! Jasmin! Comtois! take these plates away; serve the dessert, I
say!"
In vain did Monsieur de la Thomassinière shout to his servants--his
mother continued her narrative none the less:
"You must know, my children, that Chahû was one of the biggest eaters in
all Brie; he was a chap with a big head, and he'd put down a turkey,
saving your presence, just as slick as you or me'd swallow a lark.
Bless my soul, if he didn't take a fancy one day to bet me that he'd eat
more'n me of a rabbit stew I'd made for a mason's wedding feast. I'm a
sly fox, so I took his bet; and when we'd got half through, I told him
in confidence that it was cats as I'd stewed up; and at that my jackass
turned up his toes and got rid of his dinner on the floor."
The ladies refused to listen to any more; they left the table and took
refuge in the salon. Monsieur de la Thomassinière was beside himself; he
turned red, yellow and lead-colored in turn; the perspiration stood on
his brow; he poured wine in his plate and put his fork in his glass. The
young men laughed heartily, Auguste with the rest, for he was of the
opinion that his host well deserved this little lesson. Destival was
radiant; his eyes sparkled with delight as he looked from one person to
another and finally fastened his gaze on La Thomassinière. The Marquis
de Cligneval looked at his host with an expression which signified:
"Gad! I've done what I could; but, as you see, it's impossible to hold
her back."
"Well! what makes all them pretty females go scooting off at once?"
queried Mère Thomas; "be they all going to the closet together? I say,
it's like the hens down our way: when one goes, the others have to
follow."
A young poet, who had written some verses for Madame de la
Thomassinière, and who was exceedingly annoyed because Mère Thomas's
arrival, by causing Athalie to swoon and putting the ladies to flight,
had prevented him from reciting his quatrain, which would, so he
thought, create a sensation, said to the buxom dame, as he readjusted
his collar:
"Madame, it is your fault in some degree that the Graces have fled from
us."
"What's that you say, my little dapper?" retorted Mère Thomas, planting
both elbows on the table, the better to observe the young man.
"I say, madame," replied the poet, "that the Graces are easily
frightened, and that----"
"What's that you're singing about your Graces! Be they birds you're
trying to tame?"
"Madame, the Graces are the ladies; the Zephyrs and the Loves fly at
their heels; Pleasure and Laughter form their train and strew roses
along their path."
"Phew! what sort of a stew is that, my boy, made out of roses and
rice."[D]
[D] _Ris_, meaning _laughter_, has the same pronunciation as _riz_
(rice).
"I mean to imply, madame, that there are remarks at which modesty takes
offence, and that, when telling stories, you should touch very lightly
upon certain subjects, for
"'Le Latin dans les mots brave l'honnêteté,
Mais l'auditeur Français veut être respecté!
Du moindre sens impur la liberté l'outrage
Si la pudeur des mots n'en adoucit l'image.'"[E]
[E] The Latin tongue defies decency, but the French listener insists on
being treated with respect. He is offended by the faintest touch of
impurity of sense unless the image is softened by the decency of the
words.
Mère Thomas roared with laughter, and, turning to her neighbor with the
pigeon's wings, who was dipping a macaroon in champagne, his face still
wearing a scowl, she said:
"Do you understand that, old fox? That fellow says he's got impure
senses; it ain't decent to make a confession like that at dessert."
"Ah! madame!" cried the poet, flushing with wrath, "no one ever
dared----"
"What's up, Biribi? Bah! you're losing your temper, my lad, you're red
as a turkey-cock; I see that; but I'm a good-natured fool, and I ain't
got no more gall 'n a flea. Let's drink together; that's better'n
talking about your fat women--grasses, Graces--and your thin women, what
I don't know nothing about. Some wine, marquis--that nice little wine as
foams. Oh! I know what this is; it's champagne, that's what it is; it
ain't no fraud, like your madeira! Your health, my little duckies;
yours, Thomas. Whatever's the matter with you, my son? You don't say
nothing, and you look as queer as queer; be you going to go off the
hooks, like your wife? We must have a song, children; that's always the
thing at dessert. Come! who's going to be the one to begin? Thomas, you
used to know lots o' songs; I'm going to sing you the one Chahû's wife
sung to my wedding:
"'J'entre en train quand il entre en train,
J'entre en train quand il entre--'"
You must sing the chorus, children."
"One moment, one moment, madame," said the marquis; "pray wait for the
coffee and liqueurs."
"Oh, yes! that's so, my friend; they'll clear my voice."
"This is getting worse and worse!" said the marquis to his host in an
undertone.
"Oh! monsieur le marquis, I am in utter despair; I am overwhelmed with
confusion; I am afraid to turn my head!"
"Why, my dear fellow, I am not in the least offended; a great many
people have mothers who are--who are not precisely noble. That does not
prevent your being a man whom I esteem beyond measure, nor does it make
your dinner any the less delicious. But there are people in society who
are not so sensible as I am, and in whose estimation this may do you an
injury. To say nothing of the fact that our dear mamma is getting tipsy,
and I don't know what she may not sing us before she is through."
"And to think that I expect more than eighty people to-night for the
ball--the most fashionable and most distinguished people in Paris! Save
me, monsieur le marquis; I lay my purse, my cash-box, my credit, at your
feet!"
"My dear La Thomassinière, my friendship for you is an sufficient motive
to--However, I believe that I have a note for six thousand francs to
meet to-morrow."
"You will allow me to attend to that, monsieur le marquis."
"We must devise some way to make everybody leave the house."
"Yes, and as soon as possible."
"Wait--I have an idea--Yes, on my word, it's an excellent idea."
"Ah! monsieur le marquis! my gratitude----"
"It may cost you rather dear, but I see no other resource."
"I am ready to make every possible sacrifice."
"Very good; let me set to work. Go back to the table as if nothing were
in the wind. Tell your servants to carry out my orders, and await their
effect."
"Lafleur, Jasmin, Comtois, obey monsieur le marquis rather than myself."
The marquis left the dining-room, followed by the servants, and La
Thomassinière returned to the table. Coffee and liqueurs were served.
The marquis soon reappeared and resumed his seat beside Madame Thomas,
reassuring his host with a glance.
Mère Thomas hummed as she drank her coffee.
"My children," she said, "we must have a dance to-night; I feel twenty
year younger. Thomas, you'll take a turn, I hope? Give me a glass,
marquis; but none of that sugary stuff that sticks in your gullet. Give
me something stiff and strong, my friend; that's the only kind that
makes you feel good."
Madame Thomas had taken two petits verres of brandy, one of rum and one
of kirsch; she was declaring that they were very refreshing, and seemed
disposed to go on drinking, when a cloud of smoke arose in the courtyard
and found its way into the rooms. The guests looked at each other
uneasily.
"Seems to me there's a bit of a fog," said Mère Thomas; "it smells like
something burning; be any of you sitting on a foot-warmer?"
The servants rushed into the room, shouting in dismay:
"The house is on fire!"
"Fire!" cried all the guests, springing from their chairs. Mère Thomas
alone remained seated.
"Well! all you got to do is fling water on it!" she said.
"My house on fire!" said Monsieur de la Thomassinière, glancing at the
marquis. "How can it have happened? Ah! there was a pile of
straw--somebody must have dropped a match on it. Look, monsieur, see
what a smoke there is in the courtyard!"
As it was about nine o'clock in the evening, the flame made by a number
of bunches of straw, which the marquis had fired, made the courtyard as
light as day. The cry of _fire_! soon arose on all sides; it reached the
salon, and the ladies who had taken refuge there from the society of
Madame Thomas, rushed out shrieking, and calling their fathers or their
husbands.
The gentlemen tried to allay their fears, saying: "It's nothing, it
won't amount to anything; but we must go as soon as possible. Get your
bonnets and shawls; make haste, for ladies should never stay where
everything is in confusion. We will go with you."
Meanwhile the fire which the marquis had kindled, in order to put the
guests to flight, and which the servants did not think of putting out,
because they knew that it was a ruse on their master's part,--the fire
actually attacked the carriage-house and spread from that to the stable.
While the ladies went to get their shawls and the men their hats, and
while the servants ran through the rooms shouting _fire_! the danger had
become real, and no one discovered it until a large part of the
courtyard was already wrapped in flames.
Thereupon tumult and confusion held full sway; the ladies fled into the
street; one lost her turban, another her cap, and several fainted.
Auguste took Athalie in his arms and carried her to a stone bench in the
next street. Amid the general upheaval, Mère Thomas decided at last to
leave the table; she raised her skirts above her knees and began to run,
crying out:
"Just look at all them friends of Thomas's! the cowardly skunks are
running away instead of forming a line! and they'd leave me here to
roast just like a chestnut!"
The results of the marquis's little ruse were one wing of the house
burned, four horses burned, three firemen injured, ten shawls lost,
fifteen hats stolen, six locks of hair scorched, three bracelets lost,
and two combs broken; but Monsieur de la Thomassinière made himself
whole with twenty thousand francs, and at all events his worthy mother
did not exhibit herself to the numerous guests who were invited for the
evening.
XV
THAT WHICH WAS FORESEEN
On the morrow of the scene at his house, Monsieur de la Thomassinière
and Athalie started for England, where they determined to remain until
Paris had forgotten the scandal caused by the stout countrywoman. As for
the latter, they had sent her back post haste to her village, expressly
forbidding her ever to leave it again, on pain of withdrawal of the
allowance of two hundred francs which her generous son deigned to pay
her.
The absurd false shame of La Thomassinière, who blushed for his mother
after he became wealthy, and the petty baseness of Athalie, who had
pretended to faint in order to avoid embracing Mère Thomas, made Auguste
quite indifferent to their departure; but their house was the only place
where he saw Monsieur de Cligneval, and Bertrand said more than once:
"Seems to me, lieutenant, that we don't hear much about that marquis who
owes you a hundred louis."
"Perhaps I shall hear from him to-day."
"And the little milkmaid, when are we going to see her again, and thank
her for what she brought you? The chickens were fine! I had to eat them
while you were dining out."
"I don't think that Denise gives very much thought to us. Hasn't she a
lover? Isn't she to be married?"
"Is that a reason for not thanking her for her chickens, lieutenant?"
"Perhaps she came to Paris to invite me to her wedding."
"I don't know what she came for; but she seemed unhappy when she went
away. She said she wouldn't trouble you any more, and I saw tears in her
eyes. That touched me, I admit; the child is so sweet and pretty, and
anyone can see that her tears ain't make-believe."
Auguste was apparently reflecting on what the ex-corporal had said, when
there was a violent ring at the door, and Bertrand announced that an old
gentleman whose face denoted intense excitement, wished to see Monsieur
Dalville. Auguste was surprised to recognize Monsieur Monin, whose eyes,
even more staring than usual, seemed to indicate that something of grave
importance had happened.
"Is it you, Monsieur Monin?" said Auguste, offering a chair to the
ex-druggist, who, despite his excitement, inquired as he seated himself:
"How's the state of your health?"
"I ought rather to ask you that, Monsieur Monin. You look as if you were
in some trouble; may I know what it is?"
"Yes, monsieur; I have less than I had! that's why I've come."
"What do you say? less than you had? I don't understand."
"Do you mean to say you don't know it?"
"Know what, Monsieur Monin?"
"What I just told you."
"Not yet; but if you would be good enough to explain----"
"The fact is, monsieur, it gave me such a blow!"
"Indeed, you seem to be a little confused."
"Didn't it have the same effect on you?"