inclination, whom I met at the Bal du Colisée. We fell while waltzing,
both at the same time. I instantly discovered a secret sympathy
therein."
Edouard allowed a faint smile to escape him, and drew near to a
quadrille in which some very pretty women were performing.
"What do you think of that little blonde, Monsieur Robineau?"
"Why, nothing extraordinary; a good complexion, and youth; but she
doesn’t turn her feet out enough."
"You are hard to suit! I think her very attractive; her eyes are lovely,
her bearing full of grace. She does not seem to have made a careful
study of dancing, but anyone can see that she enjoys it.--And what of
the tall one, opposite?"
"She is not pretty; her nose is much too long, and there seems to be no
end to her arms; her hair is badly arranged----"
"Well, I think that she has a very bright face, and it seems to me that,
while she is not pretty, she must be attractive. I will wager that her
conversation is very agreeable--And that stout brunette that’s dancing
now?"
"She is a perfect bundle, and she tears about like one possessed."
"But see how light she is, despite her stoutness! What vivacity gleams
in her eyes!"
"I say, Monsieur Edouard, you claim to be weary of _bonnes fortunes_,
and yet you find all women to your liking; they all attract you!"
"Although I am weary of ephemeral liaisons, I did not say that I
proposed to love no more; on the contrary, I am at present in search of
an opportunity to fall in love in earnest."
"Well, well! so am I, messieurs," cried Alfred, who had stopped beside
his two friends and had overheard Edouard’s last words. "I have a heart
to place, and may the devil take me if I have known what to do with it
for the last fortnight!--Here are plenty of good-looking women,
however!"
"Faith! messieurs," said Robineau, throwing out his chest, "I protest
that I contemplate all the ladies with a most indifferent eye. I am a
philosopher, you see; besides, I have what I need, and it would be
difficult for me to find anything better."
"Aha! Robineau, then you must show her to us. You must ask us to dine
with her."
"Upon my word! do you mean to say that you think that she’s a woman for
mixed parties? a woman to be taken where there are men?"
"Are you trying to make us think that she’s a duchess?"
"Why--look you--that might be."
"Ha! ha!--What on earth have you got in your pockets, Robineau? Are you
wearing false hips to please your Dulcinea?"
Robineau blushed and put his hands over his pockets as he replied:
"It’s some papers that I forgot to take out of my coat."
"If you danced with such pockets as that, you must have produced a
tremendous effect!--Ha! ha! it’s worse than Mère Gigogne!--Are these
ministerial papers, too?"
Robineau turned away in a pet and threw himself on a sofa, heedless of
the fact that he was crushing his cakes; and there he remained until the
end of the ball, when Alfred came to him and said:
"We are going up to my rooms, Robineau; we are going to finish the night
at the table, with a few faithful friends. Will you join us?"
"Yes, to be sure."
"Then make up your mind to leave your couch, to which you seem to be
glued like a pasha."
Robineau followed Alfred. Young De Marcey’s apartment was above his
father’s, and contained everything that luxury, refinement and variety
could suggest. It was a retreat that any petite-maitresse might have
envied.
Four young men, as heedless and reckless as the master of the place,
soon appeared in response to their friend’s invitation, and with Edouard
and Robineau completed the party.
"Messieurs," said Alfred, presenting Robineau to his young friends,
"allow me to introduce an old school-mate, a very good fellow, albeit
slightly irascible when you talk to him of his conquests or his
employment. Do not pay any attention to the size of his pockets; he
maintains that it makes him more graceful. He is a little out of temper
now because he lost some money at écarté; but we will make him tipsy and
he will be a delightful companion."
All the young men laughed, and Robineau followed their example, crying:
"That devilish Alfred! always joking! But, as for making me tipsy, I
defy you to do it, messieurs. I have a hard head, I tell you; I have
never been known to get drunk."
"On my honor, Alfred, your quarters are delightful. Everything is so
fresh and bright, and decorated with such taste! It is an enchanting
spot," said one of the young men, as he walked about the apartment.
"Faith, messieurs, if you like it, so much the better. But I have
nothing to do with it; my father looks after everything that concerns
me, and he has lately had all the furnishings of my apartments replaced,
saying that what I had was not handsome enough. I let him do as he
pleases."
"Nobody can deny, Alfred, that you have a most agreeable father!"
"Oh! as to that, messieurs, I do him full justice. He is so kind that I
am sometimes tempted to reproach him for indulging me too much. If I
incur debts, he pays them; if I want money, he gives it to me; if I
express a fear that my follies displease him, he embraces me, saying:
‘You are young, and you must enjoy yourself; be happy, my dear boy--that
is all I desire.’ And I give you my word, he is so kind that I often
pause in the act of committing some extravagance; for I have no secrets
from my father, and I should be terribly distressed if I did anything
that grieved him. Yes, messieurs, his indulgence will keep me in the
paths of prudence, whereas, if he had thwarted me, if he had been harsh
toward me, I should have done a hundred times as many wild and foolish
things."
"In short, each of you loves the other dearly," said Edouard; "and it
seems to me that one should always be happy to have one’s father for a
friend."
"My father was very fond of me too," said Robineau; "however, he broke a
cane over my back one day because I had lost my handkerchief. He was
orderly to the last degree, was my father, but he loved me dearly all
the same."
"To the table, messieurs, to the table, and let us see who can say the
most foolish things! After an evening of dignified behavior, it is
pleasant to take one’s ease for a while."
They took their seats at the table, and attacked a fine fowl and a ham
roasted in currant jelly. Those who had danced a great deal were hungry;
the others were incited by their example, and Robineau forgot that he
had stuffed himself with cakes, in order to do honor to the sugar-cured
ham, which he considered delicious. Bordeaux and chambertin circulated
freely; the conversation became more and more animated, and as they
drank they laughed and jested; each had his anecdote to tell, each had
some love-making adventure with which he was anxious to regale his
friends; the subject of women is inexhaustible, and men are always glad
to return to it, for there is no man to whom it does not recall pleasant
memories.
"Messieurs," said a young man, who seemed to be rather inflammable,
"there is one incontestable truth, and that is that if we wish to be
loved by the women, we must not love anyone of them."
"Oh! upon my word!"
"I leave it to Alfred; am I not right?"
"Faith! I am inclined to think just the opposite; for I am rather
fortunate with the fair sex, and yet I love them all."
"Very good; you love them all, therefore you love none of them; which is
just what I said."
"It would be a great pity, messieurs," said Edouard, "to think that a
deeply rooted sentiment may not be reciprocated; and that as soon as we
are really in love with a woman, she will cease to love us."
"When a man is in love, he loses all his advantages, and he is stupid
enough to be carved."
"That is true," said Robineau, "he is terribly stupid."
"The woman we love doesn’t think us stupid, when she returns our love."
"Monsieur Edouard is right," said Robineau, tossing off a glass of
chambertin; "when she returns our love, why, that is another matter! it
is altogether different!"
"But when she doesn’t return it," said one of the young men, "then she
makes sport of us and laughs at our sighs; she makes us look like
downright jackasses, and we don’t discover it."
"We don’t even suspect it," said Robineau, filling his glass with
chambertin again, "and that’s the amusing part of it."
"A woman, messieurs," rejoined Edouard, "who laughs at a man because he
is really in love with her, such a woman is a flirt, and it seems to me
that society is not made up entirely of flirts. How many passionate,
loving hearts there are, ready to respond to our love! How many women
who cannot help loving a scapegrace in secret, and who exert every
effort to conceal what they feel!"
"They are innumerable," said Robineau.
"Faith! coquettish or sentimental, artless or passionate, they are
fascinating," said Alfred; "except, however, when they run after us,
follow us and set spies to watch all our movements."
"Oh! the devil! a woman who follows a man is a horrible creature! In the
first place, it’s very bad form! But such a thing is never seen now."
"Yes it is, sometimes."
"For my part, messieurs," said Robineau, who persisted in talking
constantly, although his tongue was beginning to thicken, "when a woman
follows me, and I discover it--for when I don’t discover it, I close my
eyes--but when she follows me, I say to her: ‘My dear love, you are
following me about and I don’t like it. When I choose to be with you, I
will tell you so; but if I choose to speak to another woman, I don’t
need your presence in order to make myself agreeable; on the contrary,
it paralyzes my faculties.’"
"Bravo! bravo!" laughed the young men; "he talks like Cicero."
"Now for the champagne, messieurs," said Alfred.
"Champagne it is!"
"Yes, champagne!" cried Robineau, "and let’s see who will drink the
most; I never get drunk."
The corks popped, they partook freely of the champagne, and soon
everybody was speaking at the same moment and each imagined that he was
being listened to. But amid the uproar and the outbursts of laughter,
Robineau succeeded in making himself heard because he shouted louder
than all the others, and the tipsier he grew, the more he insisted upon
arguing to prove that wine did not go to his head.
"My dear friend," he said, addressing Alfred, "you haven’t a suspicion
that I am in the secret of your love-affairs, of your conquests; that is
to say, a sweet little brunette, a widow; I don’t propose to mention her
name, because we must be discreet, but it seems that you made love to
her in great shape, and that the said Madame de Gerville set out to put
your constancy to the test----"
"Madame de Gerville! how do you know that? How do you know Madame de
Gerville?"
"In the first place, I haven’t said that it was Madame de Gerville; I
didn’t mention any names, did I, messieurs?"
"No, no!" cried the young men, laughing heartily; "oh, no! he knows too
much for that! anybody can see that he never gets tight!"
"Why, messieurs," said Robineau, putting a glass of champagne to his
lips, "I swallow this like milk; I have a head of iron!--But all the
same, Alfred, the young widow says that you’re a monster! a perfidious
wretch! It would seem that she was really taken with you."
"I don’t know whether Madame de Gerville was taken with me; but I
confess that I was deeply in love with her,--so much so that for a
moment I thought it was serious. Jenny is lively, amiable, clever; but
one fine day I met a certain Clara at her house; I didn’t know that she
was her particular friend; there are many women who see one another
every day, but don’t love one another. This Clara is very attractive
too; I told her that I considered her a charming creature--the most
natural thing in the world; but it seems that she repeated it to Madame
de Gerville, and that Madame de Gerville didn’t like it. Faith! it
matters little to me. To the devil with constancy! I know nothing but
pleasure myself!--Let us drink to the health of all pretty women!"
"Ah! messieurs, everybody must live! here’s to the ladies in general!"
said Edouard.
"Yes," said Robineau, holding out his glass to touch Edouard’s, "the
ladies in general! and in particular, too; for I have a particular
one--ha! ha!--and a solid one, too! Virtue personified, with a wanton
air, and plenty of morals--the whole disguised as a milliner."
"Aha! so your duchess is only a milliner now!" said Alfred! "and you
wouldn’t invite her to dine with us!"
"Well, messieurs, what’s the odds, after all? What does rank amount to
when beauty is in question?"
"He is right. Haven’t kings been known to marry shepherdesses? The
ancients weren’t so proud as we are. Did not Shechem, the son of King
Hamor, marry Dinah, the shepherd Jacob’s daughter? Did not one of the
Pharaohs of Egypt fall in love with Sarah, a shepherd’s sister?"
"Very good! in that case, long live the grisettes! I know of no one like
a grisette for the combination of love and dancing; for patching your
breeches when you tear them, for keeping your breakfast hot in the
morning and lighting your lamp at night. Just go and ask some fine lady
of fashion, such as I saw here to-night, to sew on a button or mend your
suspenders--you’d be well received, wouldn’t you?--Long live the
grisettes! I stick to that!"
"Long live the grisettes!" echoed the young men, laughing; and they
plied Robineau with drink, because he was beginning not to know what he
was saying, and that greatly entertained the young men, especially
Alfred, who was not sorry to hear him contradict, when he was drunk,
the lies into which his self-conceit had led him when he was
sober.--Liars should never drink too much. The old proverb, _in vino
veritas_, is true. How many people there are who would make fools of
themselves in their cups, if they did not take care to keep sober! What
reckless admissions, what piquant confessions we should hear, if--But
the ladies never get tipsy!
"So it seems, Robineau, you’ve a very pretty milliner for a mistress?"
said Alfred, filling his friend’s glass.
"Pretty, messieurs! Why, I don’t mean to say that her face is absolutely
beyond criticism; and there are some defects in the contour, too. But
her figure! oh! it’s like a model! If she was here, I’d have her stand
up on this table, so that you could admire her. In short, she is Fifine!
that tells the whole story!"
"Ah! her name is Fifine, is it?"
"Yes, messieurs; a charming girl! a regular dragon! who has never been
able to resist an invitation to drink,--that is when she took a fancy to
the man."
"And she took a fancy to you at once, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes! instantly; that is to say, she made me run about a good deal.
And the boxes I carried! and the rolls I paid for! How I did pay for
them! She is decidedly fond of rolls, is Fifine.--No matter; here’s her
health, messieurs!"
"Fifine’s health!" replied the young men. This toast moved Robineau to
tears; he took out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes, and pulled from
his pocket with it, and scattered about the floor and on the table, all
the cakes he had purloined, which had became as flat as pie crust. The
young men roared with laughter, and Alfred emptied Robineau’s other
pocket on his plate, crying:
"Here’s a provident fellow, messieurs; he put his dessert in his
pocket."
"It was for my canary, messieurs," faltered Robineau, dumfounded for an
instant by the spectacle of the little cakes; "for Fifine’s canary, I
mean, who says ‘kiss me quick’ like a starling.--Still, you understand,
it was only a joke, a wager; I am not reduced to that means of getting
bird food. Not that the loss of my twenty-one francs doesn’t embarrass
me a good deal; but----"
"I thought you had lost more than three hundred?" said Alfred.
"The deuce! three hundred francs! A copying clerk at fifteen hundred
francs a year! Why, that would be more than two months’ salary!"
"You are mistaken; you earn a hundred louis, and you are soon to have an
increase."
"Nonsense! A hundred louis! And as for getting an increase, my
deputy-chief, who rules the roost, told me only this morning that, if I
didn’t write better, they would be obliged to discharge me. That sounds
well from him, when his writing is like fly tracks, and he earns six
thousand francs! It seems to me that he ought to write better than
me.--Well, messieurs, you don’t seem to be drinking; I was sure that I
would beat you all!"
The young men were, in fact, beginning to yawn; Alfred tried in vain to
wake them up--he too was overcome with drowsiness. The young men took
their hats and bade one another good-night, pretending to be very firm
on their legs.
It was broad daylight, and the streets were already alive with
workingmen on their way to work; the peasants were returning leisurely
to the country from the market, where they had been to sell their
vegetables. The fresh, ruddy faces of the husbandman and the mechanic
formed a striking contrast to the pallid faces of our young rakes; but
the former had slept, while the latter had been up all night and were
about to retire when the others were already beginning their day’s work.
Robineau left the hôtel with the young men. When he was alone in the
street, he had some difficulty in making up his mind what to do; the
houses seemed to be moving about, and the very earth to be unstable
beneath his feet. He gazed with a frightened expression at the people
who passed; and it is probable that they detected something peculiar in
his face or his costume, for they laughed as they looked at him.
Determined, however, to overcome what he took for a passing dizziness,
Robineau pulled his hat over his eyes, and, exerting himself to the
utmost to maintain the perpendicular, ran all the way home without
stopping, and arrived there completely exhausted.
The first person Robineau met on the staircase was Fifine, who was going
down to buy some milk for her breakfast.
"What! have you just come home?" she asked Robineau, who was trying
vainly to put his key in the lock.
"Yes, my dear love, the party is just done."
"The party! why, it’s been daylight a long while; it’s after six
o’clock.--Well! what makes you fumble at your door like that?"
"I don’t know what’s got into my key, Fifine, but it simply won’t go
into the lock."
"Give it to me; I’ll find a way to unlock it."
Fifine opened the door, and exclaimed, after looking at Robineau more
attentively:
"Mon Dieu! what a face! Your eyes are coming out of your head!"
"I don’t know what’s the matter with me, my dear; but this much is
certain, that I don’t feel very well."
"Oh! I see well enough what the matter is; it seems to me that you have
been having a good bout!"
Robineau had thrown himself into a chair, and was sighing piteously.
Fifine followed him and stood gazing at him with a scornful shrug. At
last, finding that he said nothing, but continued to sigh, she
exclaimed:
"How much longer are you going to groan like that? You seem to have come
back from your ball in fine spirits!"
"Ah! Fifine, that is because I consider a ball a very foolish
thing!--These great parties--the trouble one has to take in
dressing--all for the sake of being bored to death!--Ah! I should have
done much better to keep my money to go into the country with you."
"Oho! I see how it is; monsieur has lost his money at écarté; and then
morality comes to the front."
"Yes, my darling girl, I have lost my all! I have nothing left!"
"I wish all your écarté players had the jaundice, and you too!"
"I don’t know if I have the jaundice, but I feel very sick at my
stomach."
"Oh! I believe you; your disappointment evidently didn’t interfere with
your eating and drinking."
"I took almost nothing, I assure you; but there was a magnificent
supper."
"Did you bring me any good things?"
"I had my pockets full; and I don’t know how it happened, but I haven’t
anything at all now!"
"Ah! I recognize you there! How kind of you!"
"Fifine, if you find fault with me, I shall be ill."
"That means that your supper was too much for you. What a charming
creature--a lover like this, who goes off to enjoy himself with other
people, and comes home with an attack of indigestion!"
"Don’t abandon me, Fifine, I implore you!"
"That’s it! I must nurse him now!--Well, stay there; keep quiet, and
I’ll make you some tea."
"Oh, yes! make me some tea; I don’t want to drink anything else."
The young milliner hastened downstairs and bought all that she needed
for Robineau, who had a severe attack of indigestion. But Fifine was
active, quick-witted and skilful; in an instant she lighted a fire,
heated some water and gave the sick man a cup of tea. Thanks to her
attentions, he felt better after a little, and at each cup of tea that
the girl gave him, he cried:
"Ah! I shall remember your kindness, Fifine; I won’t spend my money with
anybody but you. I wish I had a crown to offer you, and even then I
should not think that I had paid you for your devotion.--As for these
big parties, I shan’t go to any more of them. Society offers no
temptations to me;--a cottage and you--that is true happiness!"
IV
UNEXPECTED FORTUNE.--A RIDE.--THE EFFECTS OF WEALTH
A week had passed since the ball at Monsieur de Marcey’s. The baron had
left Paris on the following day, to visit one of his estates some
leagues from the capital. He was in the habit of absenting himself quite
often, either to visit some friend, or to inspect his various estates,
or simply in search of diversion; but his absences did not ordinarily
last more than ten or twelve days. When Monsieur de Marcey set out upon
one of these little trips, his son very rarely accompanied him. Alfred,
on his side, followed all his own fancies; he went wherever he chose,
stayed in the city or in the country, untrammelled by the baron in any
respect.
Alfred was in his own apartment, dressing--a very serious occupation for
a dandy; but he was doing it carelessly, because for the moment there
was no one whom he was especially desirous to please. To be sure he
still gave a thought to Madame de Gerville from time to time, for the
vivacious Jenny had really attracted him; but she had taken offence
because he had thought Clara pretty and had told her so. Alfred, who
could not understand how a woman could take offence at anything so
natural, had done nothing to appease Jenny’s anger; and as he dressed,
he said to himself:
"Women are becoming unreasonably exacting! They would like us not to
notice that a woman we happen to have on our arm is pretty; but they are
very willing that we should think ugly women pretty. Oh! they are
exceedingly kind to those who are ugly; they persist in assuring us that
they are good-looking; ‘you are too particular,’ they will say; ‘that
woman is not bad-looking.’--But when we say: ‘Look! there’s a lovely
woman!’ they cry: ‘Mon Dieu! where in heaven’s name are your eyes? I
thought that you had better taste than that. What good points do you see
in her?’--Mon Dieu! mesdames, why don’t you remember that one is never a
just judge in his own cause? You may say what you please, but men will
always be better able than you to detect in a woman that indefinable
something that imparts charm to a face which you consider very ordinary;
and, by the same token, you should be more just to men than we are."
Alfred was disturbed in his reflections by a great noise in his salon,
and an instant later the door of his dressing-room was suddenly thrown
open, and Robineau, rushing in like a bombshell, threw himself into his
arms so violently that he overturned a very dainty washstand, at which
Albert was performing his ablutions.
"Oh! my friend! my dear friend!" cried Robineau, whose face was
transfigured by excitement, "how happy I am! Pray embrace me! No, it is
my place to embrace you!--Ah! you don’t know,--you have no suspicion!"
"What I do know is that you rush in here like a madman," rejoined
Alfred, "and that you have broken a most exquisite washstand from
Jacob’s--a perfectly beautiful thing."
"I don’t care for that, my friend; I’ll give you another--two, three, if
you choose! I’ll give you anything you want!"
Alfred scrutinized Robineau and tried to read in his eyes, while
Robineau tried to calm himself a little and to make himself understood.
"My dear Alfred, my joy, my bewilderment must seem extraordinary to
you--I can understand that; they produce the same effect on me, and
there are times when I think I am dreaming. But it isn’t a dream, thank
God!--When I left you a week ago, after your ball, what was I?"
"Faith! you were drunk."
"That isn’t what I mean.--I was still a mere clerk, a humble copyist at
fifteen hundred francs a year."
"Are you the chief of a bureau now?"