"Sapristi! if I have got to stay here till night, between the aunt and
the niece, with the accompaniment of two little brats who keep wiping
their hands on my trousers, I shall pay dear for my dinner! Let's see if
I can't find a back-door.--We had better begin the inspection of your
house with the garden," he said to Aunt Duponceau; "after such an
excellent breakfast, one feels the need of a breath of fresh air."
This suggestion was adopted, and they adjourned to the garden, which was
of small dimensions and offered nothing attractive to the eye save four
gillyflowers in pots; for in December there are few leaves on the trees.
The garden presented but slight attraction, therefore, but at the end of
it was a gate opening on the Bois de Boulogne. The ladies and the
children, being stiff with cold, soon had enough of the garden;
whereupon Cherami took a cigar from his pocket, saying:
"I am going to ask your leave to smoke this cigar outside, in the Bois.
I cannot go without a smoke after breakfast; it's a habit that has
fastened itself on me: a very bad habit, I admit, but it's too late to
cure myself of it."
"Smoke in the garden," said Madame Duponceau.
"No, indeed! Your garden's very small, and the smell of tobacco would
sadly impair the perfume of your gillyflowers. I don't choose to turn
your delightful _cottage_ into a barrack."
"He is very well bred," whispered Madame Duponceau to her niece.
"Yes," replied Madame Capucine; "I shouldn't know Monsieur Cherami, now
that he's decently dressed."
Our smoker succeeded, not without difficulty, in rescuing his switch
from the hands of young Narcisse, who insisted on beating his brother
with it; he lighted his cigar, passed through the gate at the end of the
garden, and drew a long breath of relief.
"Par la sambleu!" he exclaimed; "here I am outside at last; there are
breakfasts which cost a big price. Madame Capucine ogles me in a way
that begins to alarm me. Her aunt always seems to refuse what you ask
her. The little brats are two infernal monkeys, who ought to be kept in
the big cage at the Jardin des Plantes. Ouf! I feel the need of air! I
hardly expected this morning to go for a walk in the Bois de Boulogne,
in such an atmosphere as this. But, since I am here, I must make the
most of my luck. I won't go back to those mummies till dinner time. I'll
tell them that my cigar made me ill."
XXXV
THE BOIS DE BOULOGNE
Cherami sauntered through the Bois, where, by reason of the season and
the early hour, he met very few people. He had just lighted his second
cigar, when, as he turned from one path into another, he saw a man
coming toward him, very well dressed, walking very rapidly, and turning
from time to time, to look behind him and on both sides, as if he feared
that he was followed. When he saw Cherami walking in his direction, he
stopped, and seemed undecided as to what he should do, being evidently
inclined to retrace his steps. But, meanwhile, our smoker was drawing
nearer, and ere long the two men stood face to face and looked at each
other. Thereupon each of the two uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Pardieu! I am not mistaken. It is Monsieur Auguste Monleard whom I have
the honor of saluting?"
"And you are the gentleman with whom I fought at Belleville?"
"Himself--at your service, for anything in my power!--Arthur Cherami."
"Ah, yes! I had forgotten your name."
"This is very early for you to be in the Bois de Boulogne. I say early,
although it is after half-past twelve; but in winter people seldom come
for a turn in the Bois until between three o'clock and five."
"True, very true; but how about yourself?"
"Oh! I breakfasted at Passy, with certain excellent people, whose
society is not over and above diverting: and, faith! after breakfast I
came here for a smoke. How does it happen that you are not on
horseback?"
"Why, because it suited me to come on foot, I presume."
"That was well deserved--excuse my curiosity. For my part, if I still
owned a horse, I certainly wouldn't be on foot. You see, I am very fond
of horses! I used to have some fine ones: that was my passion!"
While Cherami was speaking, Auguste continued to glance uneasily from
side to side; he was even paler than usual, and his face wore a grave
and gloomy expression.
"Do you happen to have a meeting on hand for to-day?" continued Cherami,
flicking the ashes from his cigar. "If that's the case, and you need a
second, you know, my dear monsieur, that I am entirely at your service,
and that I should be enchanted to oblige you in any way."
"No, no, I have no duel this morning," Auguste replied; then, gazing
fixedly at the person before him, he added, in a minute or two: "And
yet, monsieur, you can, none the less, do me a very great favor."
"I can? Then, speak! I am entirely at your service. I have nothing to
do."
"Yes, it was a lucky chance that led to my meeting you here. I left
Paris this morning, rather suddenly, and I forgot to write to a certain
person; but it's very important that I should."
"You want me to carry a letter to someone?"
"Monsieur Cherami, this is a matter of the utmost gravity; I apply to
you, because I think I have judged you accurately. You are a man capable
of understanding me."
"The deuce! the deuce! but you have a serious way of talking! It is
plain that this is no joking matter."
"Are you still disposed to do me a favor?"
"More so than ever."
"Very well; then be good enough to come with me. There must be a cafe
somewhere about here; a restaurant where I can write a letter?"
"Yes, we have only to turn back a little way, and we shall find what we
want."
"Let us go. Have you breakfasted?"
"Why, yes; as I told you just now, I breakfasted at Passy. But that
won't interfere with my taking something more. The air is sharp, and
walking assists in rapid digestion."
They turned back; Auguste walked so fast that Cherami, despite his long
legs, had difficulty in following him; he tried to continue the
conversation, but his companion seemed absorbed by his thoughts, and did
not answer.
"There's something wrong with that man," said Arthur to himself, as he
lighted another cigar. "I don't know what it is, but that long face of
his doesn't indicate a man who is trying to make up his mind what sauce
to order for his lobster. However, it's his business. He has confidence
in me, and I'll not betray him, for he's a good fellow. I am only sorry
that I stuffed myself with eggs and pie at Aunt Duponceau's, for I
should have breakfasted much better with him, that's sure. But every man
isn't a sorcerer."
They found a cafe-restaurant, and were shown to a private room.
"Order whatever you choose," said Auguste to Cherami; "I have
breakfasted."
"You too? In that case, it was hardly worth while to come here."
"I beg your pardon; I am going to write, I must write, two letters; then
I will leave you. So, eat at your leisure; you have no occasion to
hurry."
"Very good.--Waiter! Let me see, what can I take--something light, to
give me an appetite? Ah! I have it. Bring me a good slice of pate de
foie gras, and a bottle of very old Beaune; we will toy with that, and
then we'll see."
Cherami was duly served. Meanwhile, Auguste had seated himself at
another table and was writing.
Madame Duponceau's breakfast did not interfere with Cherami's enjoyment
of the foie gras, which he watered with frequent draughts of Beaune,
saying to his neighbor from time to time:
"Pray drink a glass of this wine; it's old and very good; there won't be
any left in a moment; however, we can remedy that by ordering
another.--Waiter, bring me some kind of cheese and a second bottle of
this Beaune."
Auguste had ceased to write; he sealed the two letters and handed them
to Cherami.
"Will you kindly take these letters, my dear monsieur? one is for my
wife, Madame Monleard; the address is written on it."
"By the way, how is your good wife?"
"Very well; but allow me to finish. This other letter, without address,
is for you."
"For me?"
"Yes; and you must give me your word of honor not to read it until half
an hour after I have left you."
"Half an hour after you have left me?"
"Yes; will you promise?"
"If it will oblige you, I promise."
"Thanks; I rely upon your word."
"You may safely do so; I haven't thirty-six words in serious matters;
but the other letter?"
"When you have read what I have written to you, you will see what I ask
you to do; and I am confident that you will carry out my intentions."
"I have told you that I am entirely at your service."
"Here is my purse, for I shall not come back here. You will find enough
inside to pay for whatever you may have ordered."
"Very good; I will pay, and I will put the change in the purse. It's a
very pretty little thing--very dainty, and in excellent taste."
"If you like it, pray keep it in memory of--our acquaintance."
"You are really too kind. I don't stand on ceremony, myself, so I accept
it."
"And now--pour me a glass of wine, so that I may drink with you."
"Ah! now you're talking!"
Cherami filled two glasses; Auguste took one of them with a firm hand,
touched it to the one held by the ex-beau, muttered a few unintelligible
words, and swallowed the wine at a single gulp.
"Sapristi! how fast you go! one has no time to follow you. I toss
champagne off like that sometimes, but it's a miserable way to drink, as
a rule. I like better to sip. Shall we have another glass, so that I may
drink your health?"
"No, I haven't time. Adieu, monsieur; I rely on your promise. You will
not read that letter for half an hour."
"You have my word! Are you going so soon?"
"I must."
"When shall I see you again?"
"Impossible to say. Adieu, monsieur!"
"Au revoir, rather!"
Auguste took his hat, shook hands with Cherami, pointed again to the two
letters on the table, and rushed from the room.
Cherami balanced himself on the hind legs of his chair, drank another
glass of wine, and ordered cigars, saying:
"As I have to stay here another half-hour, I may as well employ my time
to advantage.--Waiter! coffee, brandy, and kirsch. By the way, see what
time it is now by your sundials, and tell me exactly."
The waiter brought what had been ordered, and said:
"The clock in the hall has just struck two, monsieur."
"Very good; when it strikes the half-hour, you are to come and tell me;
do you hear?"
"Yes, monsieur; I shall not fail. Does monsieur wish anything else?"
"No; these decanters of brandy and kirsch will help me kill time. If I
want you, I'll ring.--This has been a most extraordinary day!" said
Cherami to himself, as he lighted a fresh cigar. "I hardly suspected,
this morning, when I was pacing the boulevards to get up an appetite,
that I should breakfast at Passy, and then breakfast a second time in
the Bois de Boulogne. This Monsieur Auguste Monleard is concealing some
scheme or other which is not of a cheerful nature. Those two letters he
left with me--one of which is for myself--there's a mystery about the
whole business! This purse he gave me is a very dainty affair; let's see
what there is in it. A hundred-franc note! Damnation! I have my cue! I
shall have enough to pay for my breakfast.--What are these other papers?
Broker's memorandums: 'bought by order of M. Monleard; sold by order of
M. Monleard.'--These are of no importance, and there's nothing else. Can
it be that our young capitalist has been unlucky in speculation, and has
vamosed, as they say?--It's very possible. Well! I shall know all about
it before long; at least ten minutes must have passed. Let's take a
drink of kirsch. That little scamp of a Narcisse has nicked my switch
all up. Children are very nice--when they're well brought up.--I can't
keep my eyes off that letter. Time never dragged so with me! Suppose I
ask for my bill--that's a good idea.--Waiter!"
"Did monsieur call?"
"Yes; bring me my check. Add three more kirsches--I shall drink them
before I go--and, when you come back, tell me what time it is."
"Yes, monsieur."
The waiter returned with the bill, which he handed to Cherami, saying:
"It's a quarter past two, monsieur."
"Only a quarter! Sacrebleu! you make a mistake; it isn't possible that
it's only a quarter past!"
"I give you my word, monsieur, that that's all it is by the clock in the
hall. If you will come and look for yourself----"
"All right! Let's see the footing! seventeen francs fifty. Here, change
this note for me, and, when you bring back the change, look at the clock
a little more carefully."
"Why, monsieur, I can't look at it any different way from----"
"Go, boy, and don't argue. I don't like arguers."
"Such is life!" mused Cherami, resorting to the kirsch once more; "when
you're with a woman who pleases you, when you're playing an exciting
game of cards, time doesn't walk; it flies: _hora vita simul!_ At other
times, it crawls like a tortoise; and yet, the time is sure to come when
we find that it has moved altogether too fast! That simply proves that
men are never satisfied with the present. Ah! what a pretty, old fairy
tale that is of _Nourjahad and Cheredin_, which impressed me so when I
read it--in my youth. Monsieur Nourjahad is a young, handsome, and
wealthy Mussulman, who lacks nothing to make him happy, and, of course,
he isn't satisfied; he complains because time doesn't go fast enough to
suit him, because he is to marry his cousin at twenty-five, and to reign
over a great kingdom when he is thirty. Cheredin is an old dervish,
something of a sorcerer; he hears Nourjahad railing at destiny, and says
to him: 'I can grant you the power to make time pass as swiftly as you
wish; but, beware! it is very dangerous. You will shorten your life, if
you do not moderate your desires.'--The young man is overjoyed, he
accepts, and promises to use in moderation the power which is bestowed
on him. But, fiddle-de-dee! When shall we ever see a man resist the
desire of possessing at once what he ought not to have until later?
Nourjahad desires to be twenty-five years old, in order to marry his
cousin; then thirty, in order to be sultan. Soon he desires to be a
father, then to see his child grown up; then, being at war with his
neighbors, he wants the decisive battle to come at once. In a word, that
devil of a Nourjahad goes so fast, in the satisfaction of his desires,
that he finds that he has grown thirty years older in a month; thereupon
he curses the power that was placed in his hands, and Cheredin observes:
'My good friend, that is what all men would do, if they were enabled to
make time move faster.'--And, touching Nourjahad with his wand, he
restores his youth, and advises him to keep it as long as
possible.--That is a very sensible preachment; but if, instead of making
time move faster, one could make it go backward, ah! then we should look
twice before doing it. A man goes through some such infernal
quarter-hours in the course of his life, that he wouldn't like to repeat
them."
The waiter appeared, panting for breath, and cried:
"I beg your pardon, monsieur, for being so long, but we didn't have the
change for a hundred francs here, and I had to go a long way to get it.
Lord! what a nuisance change is! Count it, monsieur."
"And the time? Sacrebleu! tell me what time it is, will you?"
"Oh! I didn't think to look, monsieur."
"Then go and look now, villain! beast!"
"Look first and see if the change is right."
"I don't care a damn about my change. The time, you rascal, the time, at
once!"
Cherami pushed the waiter out of the room and impatiently awaited his
return, muttering again:
"Ah! how well I understand Nourjahad's feeling!"
"Monsieur, it has struck the half-hour; it's three minutes past," cried
the waiter.
"At last! that's very lucky! Off with you, then!"
"But is monsieur's change all right? I want to be sure."
"What's that? yes, blackguard, it's all right; here are two francs for
you; and now, clear out!"
"Shall I come back and tell monsieur the time again?"
Cherami half rose from his seat; only half, but the waiter understood,
and fled.
The two letters were on the table; having thrown away the end of his
cigar, Cherami took the one which was for himself, saying:
"It's very strange; I really feel a sort of emotion. Come, no nonsense;
let's see what there is inside!"
He opened the letter and read:
* * * * *
"'My dear Monsieur:--When you read these words, I shall be dead---- '
* * * * *
"Dead!" cried Cherami, striking the table violently with his clenched
fist. "Nonsense! it isn't possible; I must have read it wrong! but, no;
that's what it says: 'I shall be dead.' Let's go on:
* * * * *
"'I had a very respectable little fortune, but it wasn't enough for me;
I speculated on the Bourse, and I had bad luck; I married, hoping that a
woman's love would change the course of my ideas, and that an attractive
home would satisfy my ambition. Unluckily, I was mistaken. The person
whom I married has one of those emotionless hearts with which it is
impossible to give play to one's feelings; after a week of wedlock, I
found that she had not the slightest love for me, but that she desired
to cut a figure in society, and to eclipse all other women. Thereupon I
speculated more wildly than ever, in order to gratify my vanity, if
nothing more. Ten days ago, I gave a great party, to try to disguise my
condition. I still hoped to extricate myself; I risked all that I had! I
lost, and I am ruined!--and, as I haven't your philosophy, as I could
not determine to live in poverty after having tasted the pleasures of
luxury, I am going to blow out my brains. Be good enough to call upon
my wife and prepare her gently for the news; I do not think, however,
that her heart will suffer most.
"'I ask your pardon for the trouble I cause you, but I have formed this
judgment of you: that you are a man and will keep the promise you made
me. Receive my last adieu.
"'AUGUSTE MONLEARD.'"
* * * * *
For a few moments after reading this letter, Cherami was speechless with
dismay. He even put his hand to his eyes to wipe away a tear; then
muttered:
"What! that handsome young dandy who sat there just now! But, sacrebleu!
perhaps it's not too late yet!"
Springing to his feet, he seized his hat and cane, put the letters in
his pocket, and left the room. Below, he inquired which direction his
late companion had taken; they told him, and he hastened away toward the
loneliest part of the Bois. But he soon saw a crowd of people, and,
marching toward them, some gendarmes who had been sent for, and who
plunged at once into the underbrush.
"What has happened?" he inquired of a peasant woman who passed him;
"what are those gendarmes here for?"
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, because someone has killed himself in the woods--a
young man--very well dressed, too, I give you my word. I can't
understand why people who are rich enough to dress like that should do
such things! That little boy there found him."
"It's all over then; he's dead?"
"Oh! yes, monsieur.--And his nice new overcoat!"
"In that case," said Cherami to himself, "I have only to execute the
commission he intrusted to me."
XXXVI
A STRONG WOMAN
As he returned to Paris, Cherami's reflections took this turn:
"Well, here's something that changes the state of affairs very
materially. That young Fanny's a widow--she's free--her husband is dead.
I trust that Gustave won't say now that it was I who killed him! At all
events, I have the letter he wrote me, and I will keep it carefully;
otherwise, people would be quite capable of believing that I shot him in
a duel; but, after all, that young woman, whom Gustave still adores--and
who is the cause of his going away from Paris because he's afraid of
meeting her--that Fanny for whom he has a passion such as we seldom see
nowadays; I might say, such as we never see!--However, since she is a
widow now, and since she greeted Gustave so kindly the last time he met
her--for I remember that he told me she even urged him to call--now,
then, or _ergo_, as we used to say at school, since that young woman did
not look upon Gustave with an unfavorable eye when she was married, it
seems to me that she should look upon him even more favorably now that
she's a widow. She gave poor Monleard the preference, because he offered
her everything that attracts a woman. To-day, when she is ruined, it
seems to me that she would be very glad to fall in with my young friend,
who gives me the impression of occupying a very satisfactory position in
life. I really believe that the thing can be arranged--not instantly,
because we must give the little woman time to weep over her husband; but
I foresee that hereafter Gustave's love and constancy will be rewarded.
Ah! I like to think of that; for then Gustave will cease to travel, he
will stay in Paris; and a man is very glad to have such friends as he
is, always at hand. What a pity that he isn't here now! I would have
lost no time in telling him the great news. Oh! but I will find out
where he is, I will find him. Meanwhile, I must think about performing
my mission to the young wife, with all proper precautions. It isn't
precisely an agreeable errand; but if one did only agreeable things, it
would become monotonous."
Fanny was in her boudoir, trying on some morning caps, and leaving her
mirror from time to time to go to look at the last bulletin from the
Bourse, which was on her toilet table, when her maid appeared and told
her that a gentleman desired to speak to her.
"A gentleman! What gentleman? Do you know him? Did he give his name?"
"No, madame; I have never seen him here."
"Are you sure that he wants to see me, not Monsieur Monleard?"
"It is certainly you, madame; and he says that it's on very important
business."
"Is the man respectable? Does he look like a gentleman?"
"Why, yes, madame."
"Then show him into the salon; I will go down."
She hastily finished her toilet, saying to herself:
"Monsieur Vauflers has probably sent some friend of his to tell me what
he has done on the Bourse. It's after four o'clock; yes, it must be
that."
Cherami, being ushered into the salon, scrutinized the furniture,
muttering:
"It's not bad, it's very _chic!_ I used to have such quarters myself.
It's more comfortable than the Widow Louchard's lodgings. But one has
his ups and downs all the same, even in such surroundings."
Fanny appeared at last; she bowed to her visitor, who seemed to her to
have "a funny look"; for such is the fashionable method of describing
what one does not know how to describe; then she pointed to a chair, and
said:
"You wish to speak to me, monsieur? about some business at the Bourse, I
presume?"
Cherami was embarrassed at the sight of the young woman. He realized
that his mission was more difficult to execute than he had thought;
however, he sat down, stammering:
"Madame--it is--it is on the subject----"
"Of to-day's market, is it not?"
"No, not to-day's, madame; but it was the Bourse which caused--which
brought about the event--the calamity----"
"Be kind enough, monsieur, to explain yourself more clearly, for I do
not understand you at all."
Cherami bit his lips, seeking the best method of preparing the young
woman for what he had to tell her; and after reflecting for a
considerable time, he cried:
"Madame, I came to tell you that your husband is dead!"
Fanny started from her seat, gazed at the man before her, and rejoined,
with a shrug of her shoulders:
"If this is a joke, monsieur, allow me to inform you that it is in
execrable taste."
"Therefore I should not have the hardihood to indulge in it, madame. I
did not come here with any purpose of joking; what I say to you, I say
in all seriousness."
"But I saw my husband at breakfast this forenoon, monsieur. He was not
ill, not even indisposed. What, in heaven's name, can have happened to
him?"
"Nothing has happened to him; he himself thought it best to put an end
to his own life; and he blew out his brains in the Bois de Boulogne,
about half-past two o'clock."
Fanny changed color, but did not lose courage.
"No, monsieur; it's not possible," she rejoined; "there is some mistake,
it cannot be my husband. Why should Auguste kill himself--young, rich,
and happy as he was?"
"It would seem, madame, that he was much less happy than you like to
think. And as to being rich, he was so no longer, for he had ruined
himself utterly on the Bourse; he was penniless, and he lacked the
courage to endure these hard blows of fortune."
"Ruined!" cried the young woman, springing to her feet. "What do you
say, monsieur? Ruined! why, then I am ruined, too! Then I have nothing!
Why, that would be too terrible; it would be ghastly!"