tradesman his fifty crowns on the spot, and he did not go to bed, so
that he might, unseen, witness Madame Florimont's departure. She rose at
daybreak, without waking Auguste, and drove off with the leather dealer.
"A pleasant journey!" exclaimed Bertrand as he looked after the wagon.
When it was out of sight he ran to Auguste's room and woke him, crying:
"Victory, lieutenant! I have driven the enemy from the citadel!"
"What's the matter?" inquired Auguste, rubbing his eyes.
"The matter is that I have relieved you of your emotional
travelling-companion, who went off this morning with our leather man."
"Is it possible, Bertrand?"
"Why, yes, monsieur; she's gone, I tell you. You are not inclined to run
after her, I trust?"
"God forbid!--So she has ceased to love me?"
"As if that adventuress ever loved you! She goes with the first comer
who looks to be rich! And yet that's the woman, monsieur, that you had
on your hands! You fall in love in a diligence, and crac! you scrape
acquaintance, and--Look you, lieutenant, I'm no lady-killer myself, but
it seems to me that a man ought to say these two things to himself in a
public conveyance: 'If this woman is respectable, she won't listen to
me; if she isn't, it isn't worth while to speak to her.'"
"You are right, a hundred times right! But this folly shall be my last."
"Do you know that counting everything--conveyance, presents and board
bills--your intrigue has cost us at least five hundred francs? A pretty
beginning for a man who is going to try to make a fortune!"
"Oh! you'll see, Bertrand, after this, that I'll be so good----"
"God grant it! But to avoid meeting that lady again, my advice is that
we don't go to Lyon."
"Agreed; let's push on to Italy at once. Beneath the beautiful sky that
saw the birth of Virgil and Tibullus, in the fatherland of all the
arts--there will I, impelled by a noble emulation, turn my talents to
account and try to acquire additional ones. Perhaps fortune will smile
on my efforts! Music, painting, offer resources which I must not blush
to employ! We will spend very little and I will try to earn a great
deal; for, in all lands, the higher prices one charges, the more merit
is attributed to one. And then, when I have saved a neat little sum, we
will return to France to enjoy the fruit of my labors."
"That's the talk, lieutenant; and, more fortunate than the great
Turenne, who was killed on the battlefield, we will enjoy the blessings
of peace after the war."
XXIII
THE WEDDING PARTY
The travellers allowed the leather dealer plenty of time, in order not
to overtake Madame Florimont. The proprietor of a small _carriole_
offered to drive them whereever they chose to go, representing himself
as a public carrier, and assuring them that his vehicle was in condition
to take them to Naples, which journey it had made at least fifteen
times.
Although the _carriole_ bore no resemblance to the _berline_ of an
ordinary carrier, our travellers made the best of it; but before
entering, Bertrand satisfied himself that there were no women inside. A
dress terrified him; he would not even have left his master alone with a
nurse.
The vehicle contained no other passengers save an honest peasant of some
fifty years, whom Bertrand scrutinized a long while, to make sure that
he was not a woman disguised, while Auguste took his seat, laughing at
his companion's fears.
"Are you going to Italy too, my good man?" Auguste asked the peasant.
"Oh, nenni, monsieur," was the reply; "I ain't going so far as that; I'm
only just going to my sister's, who lives a short three leagues out of
Lyon; she's marrying her youngest son Eustache, my nephew."
"Oho! so you're going to a wedding? That's delightful! A wedding's great
fun."
"Oh, yes, monsieur; for we be all great jokers to our place! and sly
dogs!"
"One can see that by looking at you."
"And the way we drink--it's a regular benediction!"
"That's very good," said Bertrand; "so you have good wines, do you?"
"Oh, famous! My sister's got her own vineyard; she's one of the biggest
farmers in the place; and see! when a woman marries off her son, why she
makes the corks fly, you know. The wedding'll last at least a week. If
you think you'd enjoy it, messieurs, you'd better come with me; you'll
be made welcome, and you'll see some good fellows. My sister'll be glad
to see you, and so will Cadet, for he likes folks from the city. You're
Parisians, ain't you, messieurs?"
"As you say, Monsieur----"
"Rondin, at your service. Well! do you accept?"
Auguste looked at Bertrand; the idea of attending a village wedding was
decidedly attractive to him, and the ex-corporal, for his part, felt a
secret longing to make the acquaintance of Monsieur Cadet Eustache's
wine; but the fear that his master would become too well acquainted with
the ladies of the party led him to resist the longing, and he whispered
to Auguste:
"Decline, lieutenant; that's the wisest thing to do, believe me; if we
keep stopping on the road, our tour of the world will be simply a short
trip to Bourgogne, which is not the land of your Virgils and Tibulluses;
and we shall return to Paris without making a fortune."
"I am very sorry to decline your invitation, Monsieur Rondin," said
Auguste, "but my companion reminds me that our business requires our
presence in Italy as soon as possible. In truth, if we keep this
conveyance, I don't think that we shall arrive there for a long time to
come; I believe that the knave is driving at a walk; so that his
miserable vehicle can make its sixteenth trip to Naples, no doubt.--I
say, driver--are you asleep, my friend? Do you think it's a joke to
drive like this?"
The driver turned and coolly informed his passengers that his horses
were going at their ordinary pace, which they never varied, but that he
would undertake to set them down without mishap at their destination.
"That is very pleasant," said Bertrand; "it means that we are to go all
the way to Italy as if we were following a hearse; if the driver has
made the trip fifteen times at this gait, he must have begun very young.
And you, Monsieur Rondin, on your way to a wedding--aren't you in a
hurry?"
"Oh! they'll wait for me. Besides, Cadet must have a chance to rest
before he gets married."
"Has the groom been travelling too?"
"Yes, monsieur, he's just come from Paris--that's where he brought his
bride from."
"Aha! so he went to Paris for a wife?"
"I'll tell you, messieurs: Cadet's a sly one, who'll never let anyone
play it on him! The girls of his village, they're a lot of hussies, and
so, to be sure of getting something good, he went to Paris to look for a
wife."
"He must be a very clever rascal."
"Oh! he's the shrewdest lady-killer within six leagues; his mother she
lets him do just as he wants to, so off he goes to Paris, where he had
business anyway. After some time he writes home as how he's found the
woman as suits him. Well, well! she must be virtue and innocence itself,
you see! for Cadet knows what's what in the matter of women."
"And he found this treasure in Paris?"
"Not just in Paris, but in the outskirts. So, as he took his charmer's
fancy, he brought her back with him, and he's going to marry her. That's
why I'd like to have you come to the wedding, to tell me what you think
of my nephew's choice."
Auguste would have liked to make the acquaintance of the bride whom
Monsieur Cadet Eustache had found in the suburbs of Paris. He thought of
Denise, and imagined that Monsieur Rondin's nephew had found some young
village maiden as fresh and pretty and alluring as the little milkmaid.
That thought made him sigh.
"Perhaps she too is married!" he said to himself; "for she was in love
with someone; she told me as much when she said that she would never
love me."
Auguste had ceased to smile since his memories had taken him back to
Montfermeil. The peasant, surprised by his neighbor's melancholy, dared
not suggest again his coming to the wedding, and Bertrand said under his
breath:
"It would certainly be good fun to stay at table for a whole week; but
there's always some pretty face at a wedding party, and I musn't expose
my lieutenant to the risk of running off with another woman, for I
shan't always have the good fortune to fall in with a leather
merchant."
Nothing more was said, and the _carriole_ crawled on. In four hours they
made but one league. At the end of that time, Père Rondin, who was fond
of talking, said to Auguste:
"If you're going to Italy on business, it's safe to say you won't get
there in time. Be you an attorney?"
"No, I am a painter and a musician."
"A painter and a musician! Jarni! that's just what we want! you could
play for our girls to dance, and paint a picture of the bride! That
would be a nice surprise for Eustache!"
"Parbleu!" thought Auguste, "it would be funny enough if I should make
the first trial of my talents on these good people!--What do you say,
Bertrand? I rather like the idea of painting the bride's portrait."
"You see, Cadet wrote me as how she's a fine figure of a girl," said
Père Rondin. "Be you good at catching resemblances?"
"Why, I haven't tried anything else as yet. However, I'll paint whatever
you wish.--Come, Bertrand, this decides me. We'll go to the wedding."
"The wedding it is, monsieur. But for God's sake, don't do anything
foolish, but remember your resolutions."
"Never fear, you will be satisfied with me."
Père Rondin was overjoyed that he had induced the travellers to attend
the wedding; he was even on the point of inviting the driver too, when
the vehicle, which was moving at a snail's pace, was overturned into a
ditch, the only one by the road at that time, and the travellers rolled
over one another. Luckily they got off with a few bruises, and the
driver calmly busied himself with getting his horses on their feet,
informing his passengers that he was sorry that he had not warned them,
but that ever since he had been driving over that road he rarely failed
to be upset there, because his horses had fallen into that habit.
That accident put the finishing touch to the travellers' disgust with
the wretched _carriole_.
"It ain't only a day's walk from here to our place," said Père Rondin;
"let's foot it. We'll get there a blamed sight quicker if we walk."
The peasant's suggestion was accepted. They left the _carriole_.
Bertrand took one valise, Auguste absolutely insisting on taking the
other, and they started.
It was a lovely country. They were delighted that they were travelling
on foot. Père Rondin was familiar with the roads. They halted only once
for refreshment, and the next morning they arrived at Monsieur Cadet
Eustache's farm.
They were not a hundred yards away when a tall youth rushed out and
threw himself on Père Rondin's neck, crying:
"Here's uncle! come on, uncle! I'm only waiting for you to get married!
and I tell you, I just long to be!"
"Good-day, Cadet. See, I've brought along a couple of good fellows, my
boy; this gentleman who makes pictures and music, and Monsieur Bertrand,
who drinks straight, I warn you."
Monsieur Cadet Eustache bowed low to the two travellers, then said to
his uncle:
"Haven't you brought anybody else?"
"What do you mean by that, my boy?"
"Why, if you'd had some more too, it would have been all the better,
because we mean to have some fun, you see! But never mind--they make two
more, anyway."
"Haven't you got many people at your wedding?"
"Oh! there's eighty of us already."
"That's doing pretty well, seems to me."
"Oh! but we must have some fun! I want to have some fun! and it takes a
lot for that; for my part, I never laugh unless there's at least a dozen
in company."
"I told you my nephew was a joker," said Père Rondin to Auguste, who
looked at Bertrand and smiled, while the latter muttered:
"This bridegroom impresses me as a big idiot."
"But take us into the house, Cadet; we're tired, and we want something
to eat and drink."
"Oh! excuse me, uncle; you see, my wife that is to be is on my
brain.--Ah! messieurs, you'll see, that's all I've got to say; you'll
see such a fresh and blooming young woman! She's like a poppy! And a
figure! oh! I tell you--round and plump everywhere!"
"Ah! you rascal! you seem to have found out about all this while you was
bringing her home."
"Oh, uncle! I should never have thought of such a thing, because she's
innocence itself, you see, and she'd have given me a good crack! and
she's a strong one, my girl is. She's a good stout sample of virtue.
However, she's my choice, and as you've got here, we'll have the wedding
to-morrow."
During this dialogue they had arrived at the farm-house, which was a
substantial one and indicated that its owner was in comfortable
circumstances.
"Jérôme," said Monsieur Cadet to one of his men, "go and let everybody
in the neighborhood know that the wedding will be to-morrow, and that
we're getting everything ready for the supper and the ball; and go and
tell the musicians I've engaged.--I'll go and get my bride that is to
be; she and mother are at one of the neighbors', but I want you to see
her right away, and these gentlemen too."
"The fellow's terrible far gone," said Père Rondin as he escorted the
travellers into the house and invited them to be seated.
Madame Eustache soon appeared; she kissed her brother, then proceeded to
kiss the new arrivals; for that is the way acquaintances are made in the
country.
"But where's the bride?" queried Père Rondin; "ain't we going to see
her?"
"In just a minute, brother; she's gone to prink up a bit for the
company. Ah! my eye! she's a fine girl, and Cadet knows what's what!"
"Has she got any money?"
"She's got a nice little pile that the gentleman she worked for gave
her; and he told my boy he was giving him a real _rosière!_[G] And
Cadet's a shrewd one, you know, and wouldn't let anybody take him in."
[G] _Rosière_ is the name given to the maiden who is awarded the prize
for virtue in a village competition.
"Morbleu!" whispered Bertrand to Auguste, "if the rosière corresponds
with the bridegroom, I'll bet we're going to see some stout Pontoise
cowherd."
At last they heard Cadet Eustache's voice introducing his chosen bride
to the guests, and Auguste was not a little surprised to recognize
Mademoiselle Tapotte, Monsieur de la Thomassinière's gardener.
Mademoiselle Tapotte had grown taller, and she was still very plump; she
was, in truth, a fine figure of a girl, and, as formerly, she kept her
eyes on the floor and bowed without looking at anybody.
"Superb!" cried Père Rondin; "bravo! you've made a great find, Cadet, on
my word! And it's a fact that you can still see on her cheeks the down
of chastity."
Monsieur Cadet received these compliments with a smile and said:
"I have the honor to present Mademoiselle Suzanne Tapotte, who will be
Madame Eustache to-morrow if God lets us live."
Everyone kissed the bride--that is also the custom--and Bertrand, who
knew nothing of Auguste's adventure at Fleury, was reassured at sight of
the maiden and flattered himself that she would not lead his master into
any fresh folly.
But, when it came Auguste's turn to kiss Mademoiselle Suzanne Tapotte,
that young woman, despite her ingenuousness, raised her eyes, and a
little shriek escaped her when she recognized the young man.
"I am very awkward," said Auguste instantly, "to tread on your foot! I
beg your pardon, fair fiancée!"
"Oh! was that what made her cry?" said Cadet, laughingly; "when anyone
treads on the feet of our girls about here, they don't yell; they know
what it means. They ain't like Suzanne! By the way, monsieur, uncle says
you make portraits; do you make faces too?"
"What do you suppose that I make?"
"Why, I mean a head, with eyes and a nose, et cetera."
"I generally find nothing else to paint."
"Pardi, monsieur, if you had time to catch the likeness of my bride,
just the face alone, I'd like it mighty well."
"I haven't anything but my pencils in my valise, but I can try to draw
her."
"Draw her! Will that be just the same?"
"To be sure."
"Mademoiselle Suzanne Tapotte, monsieur is going to make your portrait;
he's going to catch you."
The bride made some objection to allowing herself to be drawn; but
Monsieur Cadet was obstinate about it, and she finally consented to lend
her face to Auguste, who asked for a room where he could work quietly
and without being disturbed.
He was taken to a small room at the top of the house and furnished with
all that he required. Monsieur Cadet brought his fiancée, who seated
herself, with downcast eyes, beside the table at which Auguste was
working. Monsieur Cadet was preparing to watch the process of catching
his charmer's likeness when Auguste said to him:
"I am very sorry to send you away, but I cannot draw before anybody. If
you want your wife's portrait, you must leave me alone with her; indeed,
that is the custom; a painter doesn't like to have anyone see his work
before it's finished."
"Oh, yes, that's right," said Cadet; "and then, if I watched you, I
wouldn't have any surprise."
"That's so."
"All right, I'll go away. You needn't be afraid to stay alone with
monsieur, Mamzelle Tapotte; he's an artist--he's going to catch you and
surprise me. Ah! how nice that'll be!"
Mademoiselle Tapotte smiled without raising her eyes, and Monsieur Cadet
left her alone with Auguste, while he went to oversee all the
preparations for the wedding.
Bertrand was already at table with Père Rondin. They were soon joined by
several farmers of the neighborhood. Neighbors, male and female, kindred
and friends came to take up their quarters under Eustache's roof on the
day before the wedding. Long tables were laid and covered with dishes
and pitchers. They laughed and sang and shrieked and made a great
uproar, for the hilarity of the peasant is exceedingly noisy. It seemed
as if the wedding festivities had already begun; and Bertrand, who found
the wine excellent and did not notice among the village girls any faces
likely to inflame his master, concluded that they might safely pass a
week at the farm.
But everybody asked for the bride, and Monsieur Cadet said:
"Someone's catching her just at this minute, getting up a surprise for
me, copying her face. I guess I'll go and see how it's coming on."
Monsieur Cadet went up to the room where he had left Auguste and
Mademoiselle Tapotte. But the door was locked, doubtless so that they
might not be disturbed. The groom tapped gently on the door, saying:
"It's me,--is it done?"
"No, not yet," Auguste replied.
"Is it coming on all right?"
"Yes, it's coming on well."
"What are you doing now?"
"An ear."
"Is it a good likeness?"
"It will be very striking."
Cadet went down to the company, exclaiming:
"I couldn't get in; he was just doing an ear, that's going to be
striking. Oh! that painter seems to be a smart one! I tried to look
through the key-hole, but he must have her posed in profile, for I
thought I saw an eye instead of an ear. I'm going to put my wife's
picture in our big room opposite the one of the boar my grandfather
killed."
At last, after two hours, Auguste appeared, leading the bride that was
to be, who would not have raised her eyes to look at a diamond, and who
was even more ruddy than usual. Everyone exclaimed at her beauty, her
bloom, and her innocent air, and Monsieur Cadet swelled with pride.
The groom asked to see the portrait and Auguste exhibited a face which
was as like that of the queen of clubs as one drop of water is like
another. The guests all went into ecstasies over it, saying that the
resemblance was striking, and furthermore that it had the advantage of
resembling the groom and Père Rondin as well. Monsieur Cadet was
overjoyed, and Auguste received compliments from the whole company.
The rest of the day passed in dancing and recreation; many guests did
not leave the table except to go to bed, and Bertrand was among them.
The wedding day arrived at last. At daybreak the farm-house was astir.
Monsieur Cadet donned a costume that he had had made in Paris: nut-brown
coat, waistcoat and trousers. Mamma Eustache went to dress the bride.
Mademoiselle Suzanne Tapotte was soon led in, armed with the virginal
bouquet; whereupon they set out for the church, with the musicians at
the head of the procession.
Bertrand enjoyed the festivities immensely; Auguste too, seemed not to
be bored; he danced with the girls, while his companion kept the corks
popping. The whole night was passed in games, feasting and carousing.
But at midnight Monsieur Cadet led his wife away to the nuptial chamber,
leaving the rest to drink and dance. Two hours later they were amazed by
the apparition of the husband, in nightgown and nightcap, in the
ball-room, crying:
"My friends, I am the happiest of men, that's all I've got to say."
And Monsieur Cadet returned to his spouse amid a shower of
congratulations and jests from his friends, while Père Rondin said to
Auguste:
"Didn't I tell you my nephew was a sly one, and that it's a sort of
rosière, as you might say, that he's brought from Paris?"
Auguste added his congratulations to those of the other guests. At
daybreak, weary of dancing and eating, he went to bed, leaving the
dauntless Bertrand to hold his own with three farmers, two of whom were
all ready to slide under the table.
Auguste and his faithful companion passed the week of the wedding
festivities at Monsieur Eustache's farm; and during that time the bride
gave the young man several more sittings, for she always found something
to change in her nose or her eye or her ear.
At the end of the week the travellers resumed their journey, not without
an invitation from Monsieur Cadet to repeat their visit.
"_Beati pauperes spiritu!_" said Auguste as they left the farm. To which
Bertrand replied:
"Yes, lieutenant. Here is one place at all events where you have behaved
yourself."
XXIV
A SKETCH OF ITALY
Auguste and Bertrand arrived at Turin, undelayed by any fresh adventure.
They took rooms at a modest hotel, for, before continuing their journey,
Auguste desired to make the acquaintance of that pleasant Italian city,
where one may fancy oneself in France, and where reigns an attractive
mixture of French manners and Italian morals. The ladies of Turin are
pretty, agreeable and piquant; in addition to the charm of our
Frenchwomen they have more fire in their glance, a more sensuous
intonation to the voice, more abandon in their bearing. Bertrand,
observing that his master gazed persistently at the Italian women, said
to him again and again:
"Look out, lieutenant; we are travelling in search of fortune and not of
conquests; we didn't come to Italy to admire black eyes and Greek
noses."
"True, Bertrand; but as we find them here, there's no reason why we
shouldn't admire them."
"Remember, monsieur, that the fine arts alone are to occupy your mind."
"The sight of a lovely woman kindles the flame of genius. Raphael was in
love with his Madonna model."
"Perhaps that wasn't the best thing he did, lieutenant."
"Bertrand, you understand nothing about art."
"Perhaps not, but I know enough about it to calculate."
"I want to paint one of these charming heads that have caught my eye; I
want to take for a model one of the piquant faces that I notice among
the girls of this region."
"In that case you will do like Monsieur Raphael, you will fall in love
with your model."
"So much the better, if it results in my producing a chef-d'oeuvre."
"I'm afraid that it will result in your producing something else."
"Have you heard them sing, Bertrand?"
"Who, monsieur?"
"The young girls in the suburbs, the villagers, the simple
working-girls; they all sing with such taste and harmony! I hear
delightful concerts every evening when I am walking. We are in the land
of music, my friend."
"I should prefer to be in the land of gold mines."
"Here the common people, the workmen, are born musicians; the petty
tradeswoman seeks recreation after her day's labor with her guitar. The
boatman as well as the great nobleman, the peasant woman as well as the
rich lady, blends her voice with the chords that she strikes on that
instrument."
"It seems, then, that everybody plays it."
"And the Italian women have a nonchalant air when singing that forms
such a striking contrast to the fire of their eyes."
"I certainly shall go back to Paris and make trousers, monsieur."