Spartacus in the centre of the shop, where he stared at one after
another without speaking, and said to him:
"Will monsieur kindly tell us what he would like?"
Cherami, having taken time enough to examine all the shopgirls, of whom
there were ten or twelve, replied in a drawling tone:
"A thousand pardons, madame; I did come in here in search of something;
there is no doubt of that; but I don't see what I want; no, I don't see
it."
"If monsieur will tell me what he desires, I can tell him at once
whether he will find it here."
"Very good, madame; I am looking for children's caps--for a little boy
of five."
All the girls in the shop laughed aloud; but the forewoman assumed a
sour expression as she rejoined:
"Did monsieur take this for a hat-shop?"
"Have I made a mistake? Oh! I beg your pardon; I am distressed; it was
all these feathers that misled me; they put so many feathers on hats
nowadays. Accept my apologies, madame; your humble servant."
Having executed a graceful bow, Cherami left the shop, saying to
himself:
"That's one; I did that very well; it wasn't a bit bad. My two young
friends are not there. Let's try another."
A little farther on, he saw another establishment for the sale of
flowers and feathers. He entered as before, and struck the same
attitude.
"We are waiting for monsieur to say what he wants," said an old woman.
"Mon Dieu! madame," said Cherami, examining the girls, of whom there
were not so many as in the first shop, "I would like--I wanted a coat,
either blue or black, but made in the latest style, and, above all
things, becoming to me. I don't care for the price, but I am particular
about being well dressed."
"You are not in a tailor's shop, monsieur!" retorted the old woman
superciliously, while the workgirls exchanged glances and laughed till
they cried.
But the old woman bade them be silent, and added:
"Apparently you didn't look to see what we keep here, monsieur?"
"What! am I not in a shop of outfitters for both sexes?"
"No, monsieur; we sell only flowers and feathers."
"Oh! a thousand pardons, madame; but your shop has a sort of resemblance
to the Magasin du Prophete. It isn't so brightly lighted, I agree; but
these flowers, these wreaths--it's all so pretty! and, in Paris,
outfitters' shops look like stage decorations.--Accept my apologies,
madame."
"Two!" said Cherami, when he was in the street once more. "My pretty
grisettes are not there either. Patience! we shall find them at last.
Ah! I see another feather-shop; they fairly swarm in this street.
Forward!"
In the third shop, Cherami asked for shirts, while passing in review the
workgirls and apprentices, without finding those whom he sought. He
succeeded, as before, in making the young women laugh and in obtaining a
tart response from the mistress of the place.
In the fourth shop, after staring about for some time, Cherami
exclaimed:
"I don't see any; this is very strange; I don't see any, and yet I was
certain that I saw several in the window."
"Will monsieur kindly tell us what he desires?" said the forewoman.
"I want to buy a Bayonne ham, madame; the best you have."
This time the laughter was general, and the mistress shared the
merriment of her workgirls; so that Cherami had an opportunity to
examine them at his leisure. At last, when the hilarity had subsided
somewhat, the forewoman, still smiling, said to him:
"We don't sell hams here, monsieur; pray, what sort of a place did you
take this for?"
"Oh! a thousand pardons, madame; isn't this a provision shop?"
"No, monsieur; it's a flower and feather shop."
"Ah! I am a miserable wretch! But let me tell you what misled me: it was
the birds that I saw in the window. I said to myself: 'That's game;
therefore, they sell provisions.'"
"Those are birds-of-paradise that you saw, monsieur; they're used to put
on ladies' hats, but not to eat."
"Birds-of-paradise! Pardon me, but they are in paradise, in very truth,
since they live under the same roof with such charming ladies! I renew
my apologies, and beg you to accept my respects."
Cherami left the fourth shop, saying to himself:
"They are not there either; I shan't have my cue this evening. This is
enough for to-day; but I am well pleased with the effect I produced in
that last place: they all laughed, even the mistress herself laughed
like a madwoman! It was very amusing to see the gayety on all those
female faces--and all because I asked for a ham! After all, a ham was
more absurd than a coat, shirts, or children's caps! Well, to-morrow I
must ask for something even more absurd. Oh! I shall think up something;
I'm never at a loss. Meanwhile, let's go and have a game of pool at the
usual place. When my pocket is well lined, I play superbly, I handle my
cue magnificently. I am sure of winning, according to the proverb:
'Water keeps flowing to the river.'"
The next day, after dinner, Cherami returned to Rue Saint-Denis, saying
to himself:
"I know how far I went yesterday, and where I must begin to-day. I have
something very amusing to ask for. How I'll make them laugh! Oh! I
propose that not even the forewomen shall succeed in keeping a serious
face. They will fancy they're at the Palais-Royal when Grassot plays _La
Garde-Malade_, or _Le Vieux Loup de Mer_."
But, since the preceding night, certain things had happened in Rue
Saint-Denis which our grisette-hunter could not divine.
In a quarter so wholly given over to business, there are brokers and
under-clerks who go about almost every morning inquiring as to the
course of prices, articles most in demand, etc.; this is commonly called
_faire la place_. Now, when one of these brokers entered a certain
feather-shop, the girls asked him laughingly:
"Have you brought us some children's caps? we had a call for some last
night."
"Caps? you are joking!"
"No, indeed!"
And thereupon they told him about their customer of the night before.
The story made the broker laugh, and that was the end of it. But at
another shop they told him about a man who had wanted to buy a coat.
"This is a strange thing!" he exclaimed; "over yonder, somebody asked
for a child's cap. Can it be the same man?"
At that, the proprietor's interest was aroused.
"I must go to see my confreres, and find out whether they also saw this
person."
"That is right," said the broker; "we must go to the bottom of this; for
it seems to me as if someone had made up his mind to play a practical
joke on you. I'll go with you."
They soon learned that Cherami had visited four shops; but they also
satisfied themselves that he had been to no more. The dealers in
feathers took counsel together, and those who had not received a call
from the jocose gentleman said to one another:
"Perhaps the fellow will begin again to-morrow night; we must prepare to
give him a warm reception."
The tradesmen, at whose establishments he had asked for caps, a coat,
shirts, and a ham, said to their confreres:
"Allow us to come to your shops to-night and wait for this man, so that
we can have our share in the reception you propose to give him."
Everything being agreed upon, in the evening they divided up into groups
and waited impatiently for the party of the night before to appear.
Our hunter of feather-makers entered Rue Saint-Denis, far from
suspecting all that had been plotted against him; he waved his switch
about, looked to right and left, then said to himself:
"I went in there--and there. I recognize the shops perfectly. Ah!
there's my number three. There's only one more--the fourth--there it is;
yes, I recognize the forewoman, who had a very amiable expression,
laughing as she did with all the rest of them. Now, I will go into the
next one I see, and we'll have a little laugh. Oh! the question I am
going to ask will be so laughable! the girls will fairly howl. I won't
even answer for it that I can keep a serious face myself.--Ah! there's
a feather-shop. A fine place--forward!"
Cherami made but one bound to the shop he had discovered; he entered,
struck a graceful attitude, and ogled the workgirls, not noticing
several young men who had stepped behind the doors when he entered.
The forewoman looked at him in a strange way, but asked him, none the
less, in a polite tone, what he wanted.
Cherami replied, with a winning smile:
"What do I want? Mon Dieu! fair lady, a very simple thing. I would
like--I like to think that you keep them--I would like a broomstick."
"Certainly we keep them, monsieur," the forewoman instantly answered.
"How lucky! we have just laid in a stock. You couldn't go to a better
place."
While Cherami listened in utter amazement to this reply, which he was
very far from expecting, the young men, who had, as it happened,
provided themselves with broomsticks, came forth from their hiding-place
and fell upon him at close quarters, crying:
"Ah! you want broomsticks, do you? well! you shall have 'em!--to teach
you to go into shops as you did last night, to make sport of honest
tradesmen! Take that, and that! how do you like broomsticks?"
Cherami, who was unprepared for this attack, tried to parry the blows
with his switch, but the switch was no match for the weapons of his
opponents; so he thought of nothing but making his escape.
"I will wait for you in the street, messieurs," he cried; "I challenge
you all, one at a time."
But they made no reply; they simply pushed him into the street and
closed the door on him. Somewhat ashamed of the result of his jest, our
friend, who had received a too well-aimed blow from a broomstick over
his left eye, walked away, holding his handkerchief to the wound, and
saying to himself:
"What a damnable idea that was of mine, to ask for a broomstick! This
time, I have my cue!"
XL
THE BANKER
Cherami's left eye was so badly damaged, and retained so long the marks
of the blow it had received, that the ex-beau was obliged to keep his
room six weeks, because he did not choose to go out with a bandage
across his face.
Madame Louchard, who was frequently intrusted with the duty of dressing
the wounded organ, said one day to her tenant:
"How in the world did you get that _trump_?"
"You call that a _trump_, my amiable hostess! It would be a deuced fine
hand which was full of such trumps!"
"You fought another duel, did you, hot-head?"
"I am forced to confess that I was beaten this time; I wasn't strong
enough; there was a whole regiment against me."
"That wasn't done by a sword, was it?"
"No, unluckily! A sword puts your eye out, but doesn't force it out of
your head. But I got it for the sake of two girls!"
"Aha! so you must have two at once! God! what good reason I have to hate
men!"
"However, this forced retirement has compelled me to be economical; I
have given you a superb payment on account."
"Twenty-five francs! Do you call that superb?"
"Everything is comparative; I usually give you only a hundred sous. My
eye is getting well, thank God! I shall soon resume my activity."
"And run after your girls again, I suppose?"
"No, on my word as a gentleman, I shan't begin that again; I've had
enough of it! I have my cue. I am going to try to find my friend
Gustave; he may have been in Paris since I have kept my room. My first
visit will be to his uncle, a by no means amiable party, who presumes to
look askance at me; but, so long as he tells me where his nephew is, I
will allow him to make faces at me, if it affords him any pleasure."
A few days later, Cherami was, in fact, able to go out, and without a
bandage; his eye had resumed its normal appearance. Our man had taken
great pains with his toilet: his boots were polished, his hat and coat
carefully brushed; he took his switch, entered the omnibus from
Belleville, took an exchange check, and, in due time, arrived at the
banker's establishment in Faubourg Montmartre.
On this occasion, Cherami did not stop to talk with the concierge; he
went straight to the office and found the same clerk still at work on
his figures. It is a fact that there are some clerks in banking-houses
who pass almost the whole day at that work. When they go to sleep, it
would seem that they must always see figures dancing and fluttering
about them; what a pleasant life! and what delightful dreams!
Cherami stopped in front of the old clerk, who kept his eyes fixed on
his ledger as before, making the same dull sound that some machines
make: "Six--eight--fourteen--twenty-seven--thirty."
"I say, my good man, haven't you stopped that since the last time I
came?" cried Cherami, tapping on the clerk's desk with his switch.
"Sapristi! you're no common clerk; you're a living logarithm, a
ciphering-machine on which somebody ought to take out a patent! You
ought to fetch a big price."
The old clerk replied simply, without raising his head:
"Don't hit my ledger like that; don't you see that you raise the dust?"
"Yes, to be sure, I see that I raise lots of dust; your office-boys
don't dust here every day, it seems?"
"Thirty-five--forty-four--fifty-three."
"Ah! the machine's starting up again. Look you: I would be glad to avoid
applying to your employer, Monsieur Grandcourt, as we're not on the best
of terms. Come, Papa Double-Naught, tell me if the banker's nephew,
Gustave, has returned from Germany. I have something to say to
him--something important, very important; I am anxious to assure his
happiness! Well?"
"Eighty from a hundred and sixty leaves----"
"Ah! this is too much! it passes conception! He ought to be sent to the
Exposition!"
Having brought his switch down on the desk once more, with such violence
that the sand and ink flew up into the clerk's face, Cherami strode
toward the banker's private office, and found that gentleman reading the
newspaper.
At sight of Cherami, whom he recognized at once, although his apparel
was greatly improved, Monsieur Grandcourt frowned. His visitor, on the
contrary, tried to smile, and said, bowing gracefully:
"Monsieur, I have the honor to be your servant."
"Good-morning, monsieur!"
"Do you remember me, by any chance?"
"Perfectly, monsieur. Indeed, you are not at all changed, except in
respect to your dress, which I congratulate you upon having renewed."
"Ah! you notice that? You look at a man's dress, I see?"
"Why, I should say that it was impossible not to notice it."
"I mean to say that you attach importance to it, that you judge the man
by his coat."
"Was it to ascertain my opinion on that subject that you called on me,
monsieur?"
"No; oh, no! I snap my fingers at other people's opinions. I know my own
value, and that's enough for me."
"I congratulate you, monsieur, on knowing your own value; it is quite
possible that the world at large doesn't suspect it."
Cherami bit his lips and twisted his whiskers, muttering:
"This devil of a fellow hasn't changed, either--still sarcastic,
mocking. I don't despise intellects of that type; they prick and stir
one up. You retort, and the conversation is all the more highly spiced."
Monsieur Grandcourt repressed a faint smile and leaned back in his
chair, crossing his legs, as if waiting to hear what his caller had to
say.
"I would be willing to bet that you guess why I have come?" said Cherami
at last.
"It is quite possible, monsieur; still, I may be mistaken."
"I have come to ask where your dear nephew is--my friend Gustave."
"He is travelling, monsieur."
"Still travelling? But, he must be somewhere."
"He was at Berlin not long ago."
"Not long ago--that's rather vague. However, he writes to you, and you
answer him, I presume?"
"There is no doubt about that."
"Consequently, he tells you where to send your letters. Very good! be
kind enough to give me his address, so that I may write to Gustave
forthwith. I desire to tell him a piece of news which will make him very
happy, and will probably hasten his return to Paris. When one can give a
friend pleasure, it would seem that one cannot do it too quickly! Don't
you agree with me in that?"
"Perhaps, monsieur; that depends on the possible results of the pleasure
which you wish to afford your friend. What is this joyous news which you
are in such haste to transmit to my nephew, so as to make him hurry
back? Couldn't you tell me?"
"I might say that you are very inquisitive; but you are my friend's
uncle, and, for that reason, I excuse you. The little woman whom Gustave
adored, whom he still adores--at least, he told me so before he went
away--that charming Fanny!--and she really is very pretty! I had a
chance to examine her at my ease when I called on her--a refined,
intellectual face, a coaxing voice, a foot just large enough to say that
she has one----"
"Well, monsieur, this Fanny?"
"Well, dear uncle, she is a widow!"
"Oh! monsieur, I have known that a long while. She's a widow because her
husband blew his brains out, which doesn't indicate that he was very
happy at home."
"I beg your pardon; he killed himself because he was ruined--by unlucky
speculations on the Bourse. Still, I am not talking about the dead man,
but about his widow. Since the woman Gustave adored is free, what is
there to prevent him, later--I don't say now, at once, but when her year
of mourning has passed----"
"So, monsieur, it is with the purpose of reviving that idiotic passion
of my nephew for a woman who laughed at him, that you insist upon
knowing where he is? You hope that on receipt of your letter he will
drop everything and return to Paris?"
"I am even capable of going where he is, myself, to fetch him home, if
it isn't too far--and doesn't cost too much! I will travel third class;
I don't mind. One must make some sacrifice to friendship."
"You will not have that trouble, monsieur; and as I consider that my
nephew will certainly return soon enough, so far as seeing your Fanny is
concerned, and as I flatter myself that he will then have ceased to
think of that young woman, I shall not give you his address."
"Ah! indeed! so you are still as hard-hearted and tyrannical as ever?"
"A man is not necessarily a tyrant, monsieur, because he prevents silly
boys from making fools of themselves. I am well aware that, nowadays, it
is customary to give that name to those who insist that laws and customs
and individual rights shall be respected; that old age shall be honored,
that children shall revere their parents and celebrate their birthdays,
and that there shall be no smoking in a room where there are ladies; if
that's what you mean by _tyrant_, why, I am a tyrant, monsieur, and I
am proud of it."
Cherami paced up and down the room, muttering:
"You are trying to make me think it's noon at two o'clock! I care
nothing for all that! Once, twice, will you give me Gustave's address?"
"A hundred times, no!"
"Good-day, then! I have my cue!"
And Cherami rushed from the room in a rage, saying to himself:
"If I had such an uncle as that, I'd disinherit him!"
XLI
THE YOUNG WIDOW
For several days, Cherami went every morning and inquired of the
banker's concierge if the young traveller had returned; but as he always
received a negative reply, he soon tired of repeating the same trip to
no purpose, and confined himself to going there once a week.
Meanwhile, time passed, and Cherami, reduced once more to the necessity
of living on his slender income, found himself anew without enough money
in his pocket to buy a cigar.
But winter had given place to spring, fine weather had returned, and the
ex-beau strolled about in search of acquaintances more persistently than
ever.
One morning, near the Chateau d'Eau, he saw two girls, apparently
waiting for an omnibus; he walked toward them, saying to himself:
"Par la sambleu! I believe those are my pretty feather-makers. Yes, they
certainly are Mesdemoiselles Laurette and Lucie."
Hearing their names, the young women turned and looked at the stranger,
who bowed low to them. Suddenly Laurette, the dark one, cried:
"Ah! I recognize monsieur now; he's the one who talked with us at Porte
Saint-Martin last summer."
"Yes, mesdemoiselles; the same. Are you going up to Belleville again?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"And to the restaurant in Parc Saint-Fargeau?"
"No, monsieur; but we have a friend who lives in the village of
L'Avenir."
"And where might the village of L'Avenir be, if you please?"
"What! you don't know it?"
"I have never been able to read the future (_l'avenir_), and I was not
aware that it had a village."
"It's in Romainville Forest, a little this side, on high land from which
you get a fine view. There have been a lot of houses built there, almost
all alike; small, but very neat and prettily decorated, each with its
little garden. As they don't cost much, and you can pay on very easy
terms, why, the village of L'Avenir sprang up all at once, as if by
magic."
"Pardieu! I'll go and buy a house there--as soon as I'm in funds. Ah!
mesdemoiselles, I have hunted everywhere for you! If you knew all that I
have done to find you!"
"Us, monsieur? Why did you want to find us?"
"To ask you to go to the play and to supper."
"Ah! what a fine idea! But perhaps we wouldn't have accepted?"
"That _perhaps_ relieves my mind. There was nothing improper in my
suggestion."
"Monsieur certainly has too gentlemanly an air for anybody to distrust
him."
"Damnation!" said Cherami to himself; "what a pity that I haven't a sou!
I'll bet they would accept now."
"Where did you look for us, monsieur?"
"Why, in all the feather-shops on Rue Saint-Denis."
"Ah! you would have had to look a long while. We're not in the feather
business now; we have changed."
"What are you in now?"
"Pearls; we string pearls."
"Ah! that's a very pretty trade. I have never worked in pearls myself,
and yet I would have liked----"
"Here's our 'bus, Laurette--come. Adieu, monsieur!"
"In what quarter, please?"
"Rue des Arcis."
The young women climbed into the omnibus, and Cherami watched them ride
away. He sighed, muttered a malediction against fate, tapped his
trousers with his switch, and continued his promenade. But he had not
walked a hundred yards, when he found himself face to face with a young
lady dressed in mourning, who stopped and bestowed a gracious salutation
upon him. Cherami bowed to the ground, for he had recognized Auguste
Monleard's young widow.
"Good-morning, monsieur! do you recognize me?" said Fanny, with a smile.
"Ah! madame, I must be short-sighted to the last degree to have
forgotten your enchanting face after I had seen it once!"
"But this mourning changes one a good deal."
"Whether you wear black, or pink, or nothing at all, I will answer for
it that you will always be charming. Indeed, I should prefer the last."
"You are very gallant, Monsieur Cherami!"
"I am delighted to find that madame remembers my name."
"I have not forgotten it, monsieur; indeed, I was very anxious to see
you."
"Really! If I could have dreamed of such a thing, madame, I would have
done myself the honor to call upon you long since."
"I wanted first of all to thank you for your kindness in going to my
father's to perform an unpleasant errand."
"Oh! let us say no more of that, I beg! Have you any other commission to
intrust to me? I am at your service, I have nothing to do; command me."
"I thank you, Monsieur Cherami. Do you know Monsieur Gustave Darlemont?"
"Do I know him! He is my best friend, my Euryalus, my Orestes, my
Pythias.--Yes, indeed, madame; I do know him and appreciate him; he is a
charming fellow, who deserves to be loved."
"Tell me frankly, Monsieur Cherami,--surely you have no reason now to
conceal the truth from me,--did Gustave ask you to fight with my
husband?"
"Ah! so madame knows that it was I who----"
"Who fought a duel with Monsieur Monleard. To be sure; but have no fear;
I bear you no ill-will at all for that."
"She's a charming creature," said Cherami to himself; "I fancy that she
would bear me no more ill-will if I had killed her husband."
"But, monsieur," rejoined Fanny, "be good enough to tell me why you
called me faithless when you saw me pass?"
"Oh! mon Dieu! my dear madame, it's very easy to understand. I had dined
with poor Gustave at the restaurant where you gave your wedding party.
During the whole meal, the dear fellow was in such utter despair that it
was painful to see him. He didn't eat, he didn't drink; I was compelled
to dine for two, and to hold on to him every minute to keep him from
seeking you out in the midst of your party."
"Really! Poor fellow! was he so broken up as that?"
"In the evening, he spoke to your sister and made her promise that, when
you came back for the ball, she would arrange it so that he could have
an interview with you."