said Fanny, trying to smile.
"I know very well, madame, that I have nothing to fear from your
presence now. But I have no reason for calling upon you. Allow me to
say, further, that I have every reason to be surprised at your
invitation."
Fanny paced the floor, with every indication of the most intense
annoyance; at last she returned to Gustave, and said in a determined
tone:
"I tell you again, monsieur, that I must speak to you alone, that I have
some things to make known to you, which I can tell only to you. As you
absolutely refuse to come to my house, I will speak to you here. My
sister will be good enough, I trust, to leave us for a moment.--Oh! I
will not abuse monsieur's good-nature."
Adolphine was sorely disturbed; she seemed not at all inclined to leave
her sister alone with Gustave; but he took her hand and put it to his
lips, saying:
"Since madame insists upon it, go, my dear Adolphine; but don't go far,
for our interview will not be a long one."
"How gallant he is to my sister!" said Fanny to herself, as Gustave
escorted Adolphine to the door. "Well! we'll see about it!"
"We are alone, madame, and I am listening," said Gustave.
Instantly Fanny threw herself at the young man's feet, crying in a tone
which she tried to make heart-rending:
"Gustave! forgive me! Oh! in pity's name, forgive me, or I shall die
here at your feet!"
"Rise, madame, I beg; I do not understand this scene at all."
"Ah! you do not choose to understand me; but I will not shrink from
accusing myself! Yes, I was guilty, very guilty! Ambition, the longing
to bear a title, had turned my head. I did not know what I was doing; I
was mad. You must know that it was not love which attracted me to the
count. Poor man! No, I have never loved but one man, and that man--was
you; yes, you--despite my idiotic conduct. And then--I don't know--but
the last time that you found fault with me, it seemed to me that you
were jealous. I am too sensitive; I lost my temper all of a sudden. But,
I tell you again, I didn't know what I was doing! Gustave! my dear
Gustave! I will not rise until you have granted my pardon!"
"Have you said all that you have to say, madame?" rejoined Gustave, with
a calmness which disconcerted the little widow and induced her to rise.
"Yes, of course. I think that I have fully expressed my regret and my
remorse, at least."
"Very well, madame, your wish is gratified; I forgive you--all the more
freely, because, by not marrying me, you actually did me a very great
service."
"What do you mean by that, monsieur? Surely that answer of yours is far
from gallant."
"Oh! madame, you have given me the right not to be gallant to you.
Observe that I am not reproaching you; God forbid! But, frankly, you
might well have spared yourself this last comedy. I can understand that
you must have a very poor opinion of my sense--I have given you the
right. But, after all, there are bounds to everything; and I didn't
suppose that you considered me an absolute idiot. It seems that I
flattered myself too much."
"What do you mean by _comedy_, monsieur? What is the significance of
this tone, this satirical air?"
"Oh! let us not lose patience, madame; and to put an end to the
discussion, allow me to present my wife."
As he spoke, Gustave stepped to the door and opened it. Adolphine
appeared with a radiant face, for she had heard every word. She gave her
hand to Gustave, and they both bowed to the little widow, who became
white, red, and green, in turn, and who cried at last:
"Ah! so you are to marry my sister! I might have suspected as much! As
you please, monsieur. In fact, you will suit each other admirably.
Accept my congratulations."
"Won't you come to my wedding, Fanny?" said Adolphine, offering her
sister her hand.
"Go to the devil!" she retorted, pushing the hand away. And she rushed
from the room, exclaiming: "I'd much rather you would marry him than I,
for I think the fellow's perfectly frightful with his scar!"
On returning home from Monsieur Gerbault's, Gustave found Cherami
waiting for him.
"Well! how is everything?" inquired Beau Arthur, when Gustave appeared.
"Simply by looking at you, my dear fellow, I can see that everything is
satisfactory."
The young man replied by throwing his arms about Cherami and crying:
"Ah! you had guessed right. Adolphine loved me; Adolphine still loves
me. In three days she will be my wife, and I shall owe my happiness to
you; for without you I should never have discovered her secret."
"What a charming fellow! He will be persuading me that he is the one who
owes me gratitude! Dear Gustave! so at last you are going to be as happy
as you deserve! Par la sambleu! I am satisfied! I may fairly say that I
have my cue! And the uncle?"
"My uncle doesn't laugh at my love now; on the contrary, he approves my
choice."
"He's a man of sense."
"He has taken me into partnership."
"Bravo!"
"And now, as you may imagine, I am going to look out for you. You must
have a lucrative and agreeable place."
"Get married first! you can attend to me afterward."
"No. I have an idea that I want to suggest to my uncle."
"Your uncle thinks that I am not good for anything."
"He'll get over his prejudice. I am going to talk with him about you
this very day. Come again, about noon, to-morrow; I shall have a
favorable answer for you, I am sure."
"All right; noon to-morrow. Here, or at your office?"
"At my office. By the way, I have changed my office. You pass my uncle's
private room, go to the end of a long corridor leading to the cashier's
office; turn to the left, and my door is in front of you."
"Very good: a long corridor, then turn to the left. I will find it.
Until to-morrow, my dear Gustave! By the way, shall I be invited to the
wedding?"
"Will you be? you, who made the match! You, who called my attention to
that angel, whom my idiotic passion had hidden from me! Why, if you were
not there, something would be lacking in my happiness."
"Ah! that's very prettily said! Never fear; I will do you honor, and I
will make myself agreeable to everybody."
LXIII
THE PORTFOLIO
As soon as Cherami had left him, Gustave went to Monsieur Grandcourt.
"Now that I am to be married, my dear uncle," he said, "you can
understand that I don't care about travelling any more. But, in our
business, we always need someone to represent us in foreign countries.
Wouldn't it be possible----"
"I see what you are coming at," interrupted the banker, shaking his
head; "you are going to talk to me again about your Monsieur Cherami."
"Well, yes. Am I wrong about it; hasn't he given me proof enough of his
friendship and his devotion? He had shrewdly guessed that Adolphine
loved me."
"Why didn't he tell you sooner, then?"
"Would I have listened to him?--Come, uncle, you are so good to me! You
overwhelm me with kindness. You give me an interest in your business.
Will you do nothing for a man who is my friend? He was wild and
dissipated in his youth; now he has reformed."
"Where's the proof of it?"
"Why, his most earnest desire is to find a place; and I assure you that
he is capable of filling it."
"I don't doubt that. The fellow is intelligent and talented, and has
excellent manners when he chooses, but----"
"But what?"
"Well, he doesn't inspire me with confidence; and, to represent us, we
must have a man of honor, above all things."
"You have an erroneous opinion of Cherami. He may have borrowed money,
have incurred debts which he hasn't paid, but solely from lack of means.
In a word, he has been very unfortunate. Do you impute it to him as a
crime that he has endured poverty cheerfully, and has had confidence in
the future? Poor fellow! And I led him to hope for a favorable answer,
and told him to come here for it to-morrow!"
Monsieur Grandcourt made no reply; he seemed to be lost in thought.
Gustave was distressed by the ill-success of his attempt. Suddenly his
uncle exclaimed:
"Did you say that Monsieur Cherami was to come here to see you
to-morrow?"
"Yes, uncle."
"Where are you to meet him, in your room or your office?"
"At my office."
"Did you indicate to him exactly that he was to follow the corridor,
then turn to the left?"
"Yes, uncle."
"At what time is he to be here?"
"At noon. He will be prompt; he never fails to keep an appointment."
"Very well; about two o'clock to-morrow, I will give you a definite
answer on the subject of your protege."
"And it will be favorable, will it not, uncle?"
"I can't tell you yet. By the way, I shall be obliged to you if you will
not be in your office at noon."
"Not be there, uncle? But Cherami is coming!"
"Don't be disturbed about that; that's my affair. Go to pass the morning
with your fiancee."
"Oh! I ask nothing better."
"And return about two o'clock. I will tell you then my decision as to
Monsieur Cherami."
The clock had just struck twelve when Cherami entered the banking-house
on the following day. He cherished no vain hopes; he did not anticipate
a favorable reply; but, with his customary philosophy, he said to
himself:
"That won't prevent me from going to Gustave's wedding and enjoying
myself."
As he was perfectly familiar with the way to the offices, Cherami
entered the vestibule on the street floor; at the right was a door
leading to the general offices, and in front, the door of a long
corridor on which several other doors opened. That was the corridor he
was to take to reach Gustave's office. Cherami passed through the door
and walked straight ahead. He had just passed Monsieur Grandcourt's
private office, when his foot struck something of considerable size; he
stooped, looked to see what it was, and picked up a portfolio.
His first impulse was to examine what he had found. It was a very simple
portfolio, of green morocco, with no monogram or initials; but in one of
the compartments was a thick package of banknotes. Cherami counted them;
they amounted to twenty-five thousand francs. He looked through all the
other compartments, but found no letters, no papers, nothing to tell him
to whom it belonged.
"Par la sambleu! this is a find!" said Cherami to himself. "Twenty-five
thousand francs! A very pretty little sum! Who can have lost it? I don't
see anybody; but I mustn't forget that Gustave is waiting for me."
He put the portfolio in his pocket, and kept on to the end of the
corridor; then turned to the left, took another short corridor, saw a
door in front of him, and turned the knob; but the door did not open.
"What's this? locked? Yes, it is locked," said Cherami to himself.
"Gustave must have forgotten the appointment. When he's just on the
brink of matrimony, it's quite excusable. I may as well go. But that
portfolio? Let's go and inquire at the cashier's office."
The counting-room was at the end of the long corridor. Cherami had
passed it once without noticing that it was closed: it was Sunday, a
holiday.
But as he turned back toward the door of the counting-room, Cherami
exclaimed:
"Upon my word! everything is closed to-day! It's very strange! One would
say that circumstances conspired to enable me to appropriate this
portfolio with impunity!"
He walked back along the corridor as far as the banker's door; there he
halted, saying:
"Let's see if this one is locked, too."
But that door yielded to his pressure, and Cherami found Monsieur
Grandcourt in his usual seat. He could not master a slight movement as
Cherami appeared, but he instantly repressed it, and greeted him with
the customary cool nod, and without rising.
"I have come once more to bore you, monsieur," said his visitor; "I had
no intention of doing so, however; but Gustave made an appointment with
me for this noon, and I do not find him."
"I don't know where he is, monsieur."
"He was to give me an answer about--about something. I can guess that he
had nothing favorable to tell me; that is why he is not here."
"In that case, monsieur, what do you want of me?"
"Oh! mon Dieu! nothing, except to hand you this portfolio, which I found
in your corridor; and as the person who lost it will probably come here
in search of it, you will please return it to him. If I had found
anybody in the counting-room, I would not have disturbed you, I promise
you!"
As he spoke, Cherami took the portfolio from his pocket and placed it on
the banker's desk. The latter's expression had changed completely; the
liveliest satisfaction was depicted on every feature. However, he strove
to conceal his pleasure, as he said:
"Aha! you found this, you say--near here?"
"In the corridor. I knocked at several doors, but they are all locked."
"Do you know what it contains?"
"Yes; twenty-five thousand francs in banknotes. Count them, and you will
see. Nothing else: no letters, no address, nothing to indicate to whom
it belongs."
"Do you know, monsieur, that this is very well done of you?" said
Monsieur Grandcourt, turning to Cherami, and looking at him for the
first time with a kindly expression.
"Well done of me! because I return a portfolio that I found? Tell me, in
God's name, did you take me for a thief, for a man who keeps what
doesn't belong to him? Sapristi! I don't propose that people shall hold
that opinion of me, and you must----"
"Come, come! cool down, hot-head! I haven't a bad opinion of you. Do you
propose to pick a quarrel with me?"
"You seem surprised that I do a perfectly simple thing--that I am
honest!"
"Let us forget that.--Now, do you care to accept the position of our
travelling man? The duties are simply to go to see our correspondents
abroad, and keep us informed as to their orders. As you see, it's by no
means an unpleasant post. We will give you six thousand francs a year
and all your expenses paid. Does that suit you?"
"Does it suit me! why, it delights me beyond words! Dear uncle of my
friend! Permit me--no, it's foolish for men to kiss--give me your hand,
that's better."
"There it is, Monsieur Cherami; and henceforth you can number me among
your true friends."
"Their number isn't very great: you and Gustave, that's all."
"Permit me also to advance you two thousand francs on your salary; you
may have purchases to make, some troublesome little debts to pay."
"Faith! I have, indeed. I will pay Capucine and Blanquette, two
creditors of long standing, who have not been very troublesome. I am
sure that they were never anxious; but they have waited long enough.
This evening, I will send them what I owe them. They will be surprised;
but they'll take it."
A few days later, Gustave married Adolphine, who obtained at last the
reward of the sincere and devoted love which she had hidden so long in
the bottom of her heart.
Fanny never saw her sister after she became Gustave's wife. The little
widow could not forgive herself for having refused a man who eventually
had more than forty thousand francs a year; especially as nobody else
came forward to take his place.
Monsieur Batonnin was greatly vexed by the rejection of his hand. When
he learned that it was Gustave who was preferred to him, he was tempted
to make ill-natured remarks, because he, in common with many others,
thought that Gustave must be a coward, as he allowed Cherami to fight
for him. But when he came face to face with Adolphine's beloved, when he
saw the scar of the famous sword-cut, Monsieur Batonnin became smiling
and soft-spoken once more, and congratulated Gustave on his new choice.
Some months after Gustave's marriage, Cherami, who had become a dandy
once more in respect to dress, happening to pass the omnibus office near
Porte Saint-Martin, met Madame Capucine and her two boys. He greeted the
corpulent dame cordially, saying:
"Do you happen to be going to your aunt's again? But, no; this isn't the
direction."
"Excuse me; she isn't at Saint-Mande now, she's gone back to
Romainville; she feels better there."
"Does she eat as many rabbits?"
"No, too many were stolen; she got sick of 'em."
"Then, I will call again to see dear Madame Duponceau."
"Oh! yes, as you did before; when you leave the house, that's the last
we see of you. Come now, with us."
"I can't possibly to-day; I see two young ladies yonder looking for me."
Cherami had caught sight of Mesdemoiselles Laurette and Lucie at the
corner of the boulevard, where they had stopped to stare at him, and
were saying to each other:
"Is it really him? How finely he's dressed now!"
"Yes, it certainly is him. Don't you see, his nose is still crooked."
"But now he's dressed so fine, that don't look very bad; he has a very
stylish air, I tell you."
Cherami approached the two friends, and saluted them with a gracious
bow, saying:
"Really, this square is very good to me; for I remember, mesdemoiselles,
that it was in front of this same omnibus office that I first had the
pleasure of seeing you."
"That is true, monsieur; but we are still simple working-girls, while
you, monsieur, you seem to have made your fortune."
"No, mesdemoiselles; I haven't made my fortune. I have just straightened
myself out, reformed a bit, and I have found a place which I am
determined to fill satisfactorily. Twice before, when I met you, I
invited you to dine; and I should have been sadly embarrassed if you had
accepted, for I hadn't a sou in my pocket. To-day, my pocket is well
lined, and yet I shall not repeat my invitation, because I represent the
firm of Grandcourt & Nephew, and, as such representative, I have
determined to change my mode of life. But that will not prevent me from
offering each of you a bouquet, for the most virtuous man is always at
liberty to be gallant."
With that, Cherami purchased, from a flower-girl at the corner, two
superb bouquets, which he bestowed upon Mesdemoiselles Laurette and
Lucie. Then he saluted them anew and took his leave of them, saying to
himself:
"I behaved like Cato! And I am the more inclined to congratulate myself,
because, in my new lodgings on Rue de Richelieu, I have, on the same
floor, a charming neighbor--well dressed, with a distinguished air--a
widow with a modest competence--who has responded to my salutations with
the most gracious smiles; and, faith! I have my cue!"
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Chienlit is the equivalent of the gibing expression "shirt hanging
out" used by urchins among ourselves. It also signifies the strip of
paper surreptitiously fastened to the clothes to render a person a
laughing-stock; or, again, it alludes to the eccentric fashions of
certain Carnival masqueraders.
[B] _Cher ami_ means "dear friend."
[C] Blanquette, in its culinary acceptation, signifies a "ragout."
[D] "Woman is forever changing, and he is a great fool who trusts her."
[E] Vous me faites suer; literally, "you make me sweat," which explains
Cherami's retort.
End of Project Gutenberg's Monsieur Cherami, by Charles Paul de Kock