how long a time she'll spend over it. One day, I remember, in the time
of my splendor, I was waiting for my mistress, to go to the theatre, to
see a new play. I believe it was at the Opera-Comique--but, no matter.
She had finally got dressed,--it had taken her a long while,--when,
happening to look in the mirror, she cried: 'My wreath of blue-bottles
is too far down on my forehead--I must change it--it's just a matter of
putting in a pin.'--'All right,' said I; 'put in your pin. I'll
wait'--My dear fellow, that pin, and all the others that she put in
after it, took an hour and a half! and when we reached the theatre, the
new play was over."
Observing that his young companion had fallen into abstraction once
more, and was paying no heed to him, Cherami decided to leave the
private room and try his fortunes in the corridor, saying to himself:
"I feel the need of a little fresh air; it's as hot as the tropics in
these private dining-rooms. Ah! what do I see yonder? Ladies--many
ladies. I must go and cast an eye in that direction. The fair sex
attracts me--it's my magnet."
The ladies of the Monleard party were beginning to return, arrayed for
the ball. To reach the room where they were to dance, they had to pass
along the corridor to the main staircase. Cherami took his stand at the
head of the staircase, and there ogled the ladies, bowed to them all as
if he knew them, and spoke to each of them as she passed.
"Charming, on my word! A divine costume!--White shoulders that would
drive Venus to despair!--Ah! how we are going to flirt!--A very pretty
head-dress; bravo!--Ah! here's a mamma who proposes to play the coy
maiden. Dear lady, you will find difficulty in getting partners, I warn
you. There are pretty faces here that will monopolize all the cavaliers.
Oho! what fine eyes! they are like carbuncles. Who will deign to accept
my hand or my arm? I am at your service, fair ladies!"
But the ladies, instead of accepting the hand which my gentleman offered
them, passed him without replying, or shrank from him, because there
was in his whole aspect a seediness entirely out of harmony with their
ball-dresses; moreover, he smelt so strongly of punch and liquors that
it was impossible to pass him without receiving a whiff of the odor.
Several ladies put their handkerchiefs to their faces as they hurried
by, and some exclaimed: "Why, who can that man be? Where did he come
from? He is drunk!--Surely he is not one of Monsieur Monleard's wedding
guests. What is he doing there, like a sentinel? He speaks to everybody,
and with an astonishing lack of ceremony. He poisons the air with wine
and liquor. Can't somebody send the horrible creature away?"
These complaints soon reached the ears of the gentlemen who had remained
to play cards. Some of them rose and walked into the hall, saying:
"Parbleu! we will find out who this fellow is who takes the liberty of
speaking to ladies whom he doesn't know!"
Cherami had just offered his hand to a pretty little woman, who had
refused it and instantly put her handkerchief to her nose. This
pantomime, having been frequently repeated in front of the ex-beau,
began to offend him, and he suddenly exclaimed:
"Deuce take it! what's the matter with all these prudes, that they hide
their faces with their handkerchiefs? Can it be because they think that
I have any desire to kiss them! Ah! I've seen prettier women than
you--who didn't run away from me, my princesses!"
"To whom are you speaking, monsieur? Is it these ladies to whom you dare
to address such language?"
"Hallo! who's this? where did he come from? Ah! what a noble head!"
"It is for you, monsieur, to answer those questions. Off with you, at
once, or I'll put you out-of-doors."
"Out-of-doors, eh? Understand that I dined here--with my friend
Gustave--Gustave something or other--and that I have as much right as
you to stay here--that I won't go away."
"I forbid you to speak to these ladies."
"Thanks! I have my cue."
The ladies interposed to prevent a dispute, and succeeded in taking
their champions away with them, saying:
"You can see that the man's drunk. What satisfaction do you expect to
obtain from a man who hasn't his senses? Leave him there, and pay no
more attention to him."
The men yielded to this request, and they left Cherami standing there
and entered the ballroom.
Meanwhile, the waiter who had served the dinner in the private room ran
up to Cherami.
"The gentleman who dined with you is going away; someone has come for
him."
"What! my friend Gustave going away? Why, it's impossible! He won't go
without me; besides, he's waiting for the bride; we must have the bride;
she's been promised to us."
"He's going, I tell you."
The ex-beau decided to return to the private room, and found at the door
his young friend and a man of mature years, short of stature, but with a
cold, stern face which imposed respect. They were on the point of
leaving.
"Well, well! what does this mean?" cried Cherami. "What! my dear
Gustave, going, and without me--your intimate friend, your Orestes, your
Patroclus?"
"Who is this new friend of yours, whom I don't know, whom I have never
seen with you?" the short man asked Gustave, whose arm he held fast.
"It's a gentleman who has been kind enough to take some interest in me,
uncle," faltered Gustave;--"I was so unhappy--and to keep me company."
"And whose dinner you have paid for, I presume? Your friend did not
spare himself."
"What do I hear? Monsieur is your uncle?"
"Yes, monsieur; I am Gustave's uncle."
"Then you are Monsieur Grandcourt?"
"Just so."
"Oh! Delighted to make the acquaintance of my friend's uncle."
"I am obliged to you, monsieur; but we are going."
"What! you are going? Pray, do you not know that your dear nephew
desires to speak once more with the bride, the faithless Fanny?"
"Indeed, I do know it, and it was for the express purpose of preventing
that interview, which might result in a scandalous scene, that I came
here and that I am taking my nephew away."
"But her little sister, the charming Adolphine, would have obtained an
interview for us in secret."
"You are mistaken, monsieur; for it was Mademoiselle Adolphine herself
who sent word to me that my nephew was here, and begged me to exert my
authority to take him away and prevent his seeing her sister; that young
woman realized all the impropriety of the proposed interview."
"What! it was the little sister who sent word to you? Ah! the little
mouse! These women are all leagued together to fool us."
"On this occasion, monsieur, Mademoiselle Adolphine showed as much good
sense as prudence, and she deserves only praise from us. Come, Gustave,
say adieu to monsieur, thank him for the service which he intended, I
doubt not, to render you, and let's be off."
"So it's all over, uncle, is it? you drag me away without allowing me to
see her once more?"
"Really, nephew, you disgust me with your love and your regrets for a
woman who has treated you with contempt, played with you like a child.
Be a man, for God's sake! Repay contempt with contempt, scorn with
scorn! and blush to think that you placed your affections so ill. Let us
go."
"One moment, dear uncle of my friend: I desire most earnestly to know
you more intimately. Gustave will tell you that I am worthy of your
friendship. I do not accompany you, because I am going to the Blanquette
wedding feast, which is on the second floor. Give me your address,
please; I will call and breakfast with you to-morrow."
"It is useless, monsieur; to-morrow, we shall be at Havre."
"At Havre? Very good! it's all the same to me; I will go there with you.
Ah! my dear Gustave, do let go of the dear uncle's arm a moment; I have
a word to say to you in private, just a word; but it's very important."
But, paying no further heed to Cherami, Monsieur Grandcourt led his
nephew away at a rapid pace, and they left the restaurant while
Gustave's friend was still talking to them in the corridor.
XV
THE ECARTE PLAYERS
When he finally discovered that he was alone, Cherami returned to the
private dining-room, sat down at the table, looked into the bowl, where
there was still some punch, and poured out a glass, saying to himself:
"After all, I shall have no difficulty in finding them again. The uncle
doesn't seem quite so amiable as the nephew; there's a something stiff
and cold in his face. He fell in here like a bombshell. It's a pity; I
felt just in the mood to kidnap the bride before the noses of the
Athenians and of all those hussies who hid their faces with their
handkerchiefs. Suppose I go and clean out the whole crowd? No, they're
not worth the trouble. I prefer to pay a visit to the Blanquette
festivity; there I am known, they won't treat me as an intruder.
Sapristi! what a pity that I hadn't the time to borrow a few napoleons
from my new friend. He would have loaned them to me; there's no doubt
about it. Ah! I waited too long; but I couldn't suspect that an uncle
would arrive all of a sudden--just as they do in vaudevilles, to bring
about an unexpected denouement. Aha! what do I hear? Music, they're
playing a quadrille. Gad! it seems to me that I could make a pretty
figure at a little contra-dance. That music puts me right in the mood
for it. O power of music! _Emollit mores nec sint esse feros._ I think
I'll go and say that to the bucks who are dancing upstairs! They'd think
I was asking them for a cigar.--Pretty music! Sapristi! it shall not be
said that I remained alone in this room, like a bear in its cage, while
everybody else in the place is enjoying himself. Here goes for a look in
at the Blanquette function."
And Cherami jumped to his feet, put his hat on his head, took his little
cane, and rushed from the room. When he was in the corridor, he lurched
against the wall more than once; but, with the instinct of a man
accustomed to frequent over-indulgence, he drew himself up and steadied
himself on his legs.
"What does this mean?" he said.--"You stumble for a glass or two of
punch? Come, come, Arthur, I shouldn't know you, my boy; you're not
drunk, you can't be drunk."
Thereupon the mind steadied the body, and he walked to the stairway with
a somewhat less uncertain step. There he could plainly hear the
orchestra of the elegant Monleard ball. He paused a moment, saying to
himself:
"Suppose I should enter abruptly, and make a scene with the perfidious
Fanny, in behalf of my young friend Gustave--what a stunning coup! what
an effect I would produce!--Yes, but those people don't know me; they
don't know that I once had thirty-five thousand francs a year, and that
I have been the most popular man in Paris. They would be quite capable
of treating me as an intruder! I should talk back--and then, duels!
Let's not end in sadness a day so well employed. _Dies fasti_, as the
Romans used to say. It's surprising how the punch brings back my Latin!
Let's go up a floor, and join the Blanquette wedding party; there, at
all events, I know the bridegroom slightly, and the uncle very well. I
owe him four or five hundred francs for cloth--an additional reason why
he should receive me well; a man never closes his door to his debtors."
Having arrived on the second floor, Cherami heard the strains of another
orchestra; he passed through a large room where he saw nothing but men's
hats hanging on hooks, and immediately hung up his own and placed his
cane beside it.
"I must show my breeding," he said to himself; "one doesn't appear at a
wedding party as at a messroom. Ah! what do I see in that corner? a very
fine yellow glove, on my word! Pardieu! it arrives most opportunely!
It's for the left hand, but, no matter: I can keep the other in my
pocket. It fits me, it really fits me beautifully! What a pity that the
man who dropped it didn't drop the right-hand one too! No matter; this
one gives a sort of dressed-up, coquettish air, which sets off the
wearer. I will keep my right hand under the tail of my coat--nay, I will
skilfully hold both tails in my hand, and people will think I'm in full
dress. Forward, charge their guns!"
Cherami passed into a second room, which was occupied by card-players:
there were two tables of whist and one of ecarte. With the exception of
two elderly women at one of the whist tables, there were only men in the
room; and as they were all busily engaged in playing, or watching the
play, nobody noticed the arrival of the party in plaid trousers.
Cherami smiled at everybody, although he saw no one whom he knew; there
were very few persons about the whist tables--only one or two
enthusiasts watching the games--so that one could easily approach them.
It was not the same with the ecarte table; there was a crowd of young
men about it, and it was very difficult to see their hands.
Cherami walked about for some minutes, daintily scratching the end of
his nose with his gloved hand, and holding the other behind his back,
under the skirt of his coat. Suddenly one of the players cried:
"Twenty francs lacking! Come, gentlemen; who'll make it good?"
"Not I, by a long shot!" said a young man, turning toward Cherami;
"they're having extraordinary luck! They have passed six times over
there! But I know Minoret; he's a lucky dog! When he sets about it, he's
quite capable of passing twenty times in succession."
"Still twenty francs lacking," the same voice repeated; "who makes it
good?"
"I," cried Cherami, in a loud voice. "I make it good; I trust to
Monsieur Minoret's luck."
This remark attracted general attention to Cherami. The young men
scrutinized him, then smiled, and said to one another:
"Who the deuce is this fellow?"
"What an extraordinary figure!"
"And his dress is even more extraordinary. Who ever heard of going to a
wedding in plaid trousers and waistcoat!"
"And they're far from new."
"He wasn't at the supper, I'm sure."
"No. I would like right well to know who he is. He seems to know
Minoret."
A moment later, the player addressed as Minoret spoke again:
"Well! who is it who makes good the twenty francs? Why doesn't he put up
the money?"
"I am the man, monsieur, who makes it good," replied Cherami, still
louder than before; "and, sapristi! when I say that I make it good, it
seems to me that it's the same thing as if I had put up the money! But
perhaps you'll give me time to find my purse, which has slipped into
the lining of my waistcoat."
The tone in which Cherami spoke imposed silence upon all those who
surrounded the ecarte table. It rarely happens that one cannot, by
talking loud enough, produce that effect on the multitude; and if the
victory on the battlefield almost always remains with the greatest
numbers, so in a discussion it almost always remains with the loudest
voices.
So the card-players concluded to deal the cards and go on with the game.
Meanwhile, Cherami went through a very curious pantomime. Having decided
to withdraw his right hand from behind his back, he plunged it into one
pocket of his waistcoat, then into the other, then into his
trousers-pockets, pretending to be in search of something which he was
very sure of not finding; but he went about it with a zeal which
deceived the most incredulous, interspersing his investigations with
such ejaculations as:
"Where the devil have I put my purse! It's inconceivable--as soon as you
begin to look for a thing, you can't remember what you did with it! I
certainly had it just now when I paid my cabman. Can I have dropped it
beside my pocket, thinking that I put it inside? Let's try this side; it
seems to me that I feel something. Yes--I have it at last. Oh! the
devil! it isn't my purse, it's my cigar-case!--I believe I haven't
looked in this pocket."
But, as our bettor hoped, the game came to an end before he had finished
his search; and ere long these words reached his ears, and filled his
heart with joy:
"I was sure of it; Minoret has won again!"
Cherami instantly rushed to the table, extended his left hand, closed,
to the player on whom he had bet, and said:
"I have just found my purse: here's the twenty francs I bet on you,
monsieur."
"You don't need to put up the money, monsieur, as we have won," replied
Minoret; "on the contrary, here's twenty francs that belongs to you."
As he spoke, the player handed Cherami a twenty-franc piece; but in
order to take it, he would have had to open the hand which he held
tightly closed, and then they would have seen that he had nothing in it.
Like the shrewd man he was, he realized the peril of his position, and
boldly solved the difficulty by replying in his turn:
"Very good, monsieur; keep the twenty francs; I will bet on you again."
To those who consider that it was very imprudent for a man who had not a
sou, to risk upon one deal the twenty francs he had just won, we reply
that, as a general rule, those who are most in need of money play for
the highest stakes. Moreover, in this instance, Cherami was excused by
the embarrassing position in which he was placed.
Monsieur Minoret's luck did not change; he won six times more, and was
not beaten until the seventh; and Cherami, who had continued to bet on
the same side, found himself in possession of one hundred and twenty
francs when he left the table, at which he had taken his place without a
sou. There was a fitting occasion to speak Latin; and our gambler, after
the sacramental "I have my cue," did not fail to add: "_Audaces fortuna
juvat!_" Never was maxim more fittingly applied; indeed, one might
perhaps consider that on this occasion Cherami was something more than
audacious.
"I must confess that I did well to bet!" said Cherami to himself,
jingling in his pockets the gold pieces he had won. "Pardieu! I am
tempted to go and buy a right-hand glove. Bah! what's the use? I may
well have lost the other. The first owner of this one must find himself
in the same predicament. Let's go to the ballroom; I feel in the mood
for a polka, and if there's any susceptible female there, I will
fascinate her by my glances."
XVI
THE BLANQUETTE WEDDING BALL
The ballroom was long and narrow; a waltz was in progress at the moment
selected by Cherami to make his appearance. He began by running into a
couple who were waltzing in two-time, which means that they were out of
step, as a waltz is always in three-time. Surely they who invented that
style of dancing could not have had a musical ear. Now, waltzers in
two-time always move very rapidly; indeed, that is the main purpose of
the innovation. Cherami, colliding suddenly with the couple as they
passed, stepped back and came in contact with some waltzers in
three-time, who were abandoning themselves voluptuously to the charms of
the waltz; the lady, letting her head hang languidly on one side, and
keeping her eyes half-closed to avoid being dizzy; her partner, holding
himself firm on his legs, pressing his partner's waist with an arm of
iron, and gazing down at her with eyes that flashed fire.
Being abruptly aroused from their ecstasy by a person who bumped against
them and threw them out of step, they cried:
"Pray be careful! Mon Dieu! how awkward some people are!"
"What's that! be careful yourselves!" retorted the man with one glove.
"What the devil! you waltzed into my back."
"But you should get out of the way, monsieur! The idea of standing in
front of people who are waltzing!"
"Ah! monsieur, you have torn my dress, and you trod on my foot!"
"But who is this shabbily dressed individual, who scratches his nose
with a bright yellow glove, and runs into everybody? Do you know him?"
"No."
"Nor I."
"Nor I."
"Wait; Minoret must know him; he bet on Minoret's hand."
And a young man went up to Minoret, who had also entered the ballroom,
and said to him:
"My dear Minoret, tell me who that extraordinary person in the Scotch
trousers is, who bet twenty francs on you just now?"
"Who? that tall man with the red face, holding his left hand in the
air?"
"Yes."
"I don't know him at all."
"But he called you by name when he bet."
"I don't know whether he knows me, or not, but I don't know him."
"That's strange. He acts as if he were a little tipsy. We must find out
who he is. Ah! there's Armand, one of the groomsmen. I say, Armand, come
here a moment; tell us who that man is, whose costume is so
unconventional for a wedding party?"
"The gentleman in a frock-coat, who runs into everybody?"
"The same."
"I have just asked the bride, and she doesn't know him either."
"And the groom?"
"He is dancing. But there's his uncle, Monsieur Blanquette; I'll go and
ask him about the fellow; and if nobody knows him, we'll soon show him
the door, I promise you."
But before the groomsman could reach the bridegroom's uncle, Cherami,
who had spied the linen-draper, hastened to meet him, and said, tapping
him on the stomach:
"Here I am, my dear friend! You didn't ask me to your party, but I said
to myself: 'I'll go all the same, because, with old acquaintances, one
shouldn't take offence at trifles.'--Then what did I do?--I dined here,
in a private room on the first floor, and dined magnificently, too, I
flatter myself! and then I came up to say bonsoir to you, and to salute
the bride--and to dance with anybody, I don't care who! I'm an obliging
person, you see.--So there you are, my dear Papa Blanquette. Old friends
are always on hand, as the song says."
Monsieur Blanquette was surprised beyond words to find himself
confronted by the gentleman whom he had met in the afternoon, when he
alighted from his carriage. He did not seem overjoyed to see him at the
ball; but as he did not desire his nephew's wedding party to be
disturbed by any unpleasant scene, he strove to conceal his annoyance,
and rejoined:
"Faith, Monsieur Cherami, I didn't expect to see you again! So you dined
at this restaurant, did you?"
"Yes, my estimable friend; and dined deliciously, too, I beg you to
believe."
"So I perceive!"
"What! so you perceive! and by what do you perceive it, I pray to know?"
"Why, because you seem to be much inclined--to laugh."
"I am always cheerful when I am among my friends. That's my nature, you
know. Pray present me to the bride."
"But, excuse me--it seems to me that you are hardly in ball dress--and
the ladies are rather particular about that."
"If you'd invited me, I'd have come in full dress; you didn't invite me,
so I came as a neighbor. All is for the best, as Doctor Pangloss says.
Present me to your niece."
"Later; they are going to dance now; you see they are forming a
quadrille. Let us go into another room."
"They are going to dance, eh? Then I'll not go, deuce take me! for I can
dance, you know. I used to be one of the best of La Chaumiere's pupils,
and she was a pupil of Chicard. People fought for places to see me dance
the _Tulipe Orageuse._ I propose to show you that I haven't forgotten it
all."
Thereupon the ex-beau, leaving Monsieur Blanquette, walked toward the
benches on which the ladies were seated, and offered his gloved hand to
one of the younger ones, saying:
"Will you do me the honor, lovely coryphee, to accept my hand for this
contra-dance?"
"I am engaged, monsieur."
Cherami thereupon addressed the same request to one after another,
varying his phrase slightly; but there was no variation in the replies;
it was always the same formula:
"I am engaged."
For no young woman, married or unmarried, cared to dance with a person
so red of face, so shabbily dressed, smelling so strongly of rum, and
with his right hand always behind his back.
"Sapristi! it seems that all the ladies have been engaged beforehand!"
cried Cherami, glaring at the benches in turn; "I am refused all along
the line!"
But at every ball there is sure to be some elderly woman, ugly, dowdily
dressed, who still has the assurance to take her place among the
dancers. Our Arthur finally espied a lady of that type, sitting in a
corner; on her head was a sort of turban, laden with an appalling mass
of flowers, feathers, and lace.
"I shall be unlucky indeed, if this creature is engaged!" said Cherami
to himself, boldly directing his steps toward the turbaned dame.
He had not delivered half of his invitation, when she rose as if
impelled by a spring, and seized his gloved hand, saying:
"With pleasure; yes, monsieur; I accept. Oh! I will dance as long as you
please."
"In that case, fair lady, let us take our places."