"Your servant, monsieur!"
I was not sorry to know that the finisher was supposed to send for
Rosette to mend shawls; that would give me more self-assurance in my
embassy.
I was driven to Rue du Pont-aux-Choux. There I did not stop to parley
with the concierge; I asked for Madame Riflot, and went up at once to
the fourth floor. I found a very active and wide-awake little old woman,
who did not keep still an instant, but was constantly on the move from
the stove to the kitchen table and cupboard while she talked with me.
"I would like to say a word to Mademoiselle Rosette, if possible,
madame."
"Rosette? my niece Rosette?--Ah! mon Dieu! I believe it's burning! yes,
I believe it's burning!"
And the old woman ran and turned over the tripe that was frying on the
stove.
"She is here, is she not, madame?"
"Rosette? my niece Rosette?--Have I got any parsley? have I got any
parsley? It would be just like me not to have any parsley!"
"Will you kindly tell me if I may speak to her? Will you call her?"
"Who? Rosette? my niece Rosette?--A body don't have a minute to herself!
It must be after twelve. Is it after twelve?"
I began to lose patience, and, being convinced that Rosette was not far
away, I shouted at the top of my voice:
"Mademoiselle Rosette, you're wanted!"
At that, the infernal old hag stopped, looked at me, and began to laugh.
When she had laughed her fill, she said:
"It's no use for you to call and yell, as she ain't here; you might just
as well sing!"
"She is not here? You should have told me that at once, madame."
"You didn't give me time.--And my fire, my fire----"
"In that case, madame, will you be kind enough to tell me where I can
find mademoiselle your niece? I wanted to see her about mending a
shawl--at Madame Berlingot's."
"Rosette told me, the last time I saw her: 'I'm going to work at Aunt
Piquette's, Rue aux Ours, No. 35.'--Well, have I got any embers, I
wonder? Let's look and see!"
"Exceedingly obliged, madame."
That old woman set my nerves on edge! Thank God! I was clear of her at
last! I made all haste to Aunt Piquette's, Rue aux Ours.
I found no concierge at the number indicated; but a neighbor told me
that Madame Piquette lived on the fifth floor. _Fichtre!_ the flights
increased in number! If I should have to visit all Rosette's aunts, how
high should I have to ascend, at that rate? But I hoped that I should
find that intangible niece this time.
I rang at Madame Piquette's door. A woman appeared who was fully sixty
years of age, but who wore a cap overladen with flowers and pink
ribbons. Where will not coquetry build its nest?
"Madame Piquette?"
"That's me, monsieur; take the trouble to come in."
And she made a formal reverence, as she stood aside to let me pass.
"It is useless for me to disturb you, madame; I have come to----"
"I certainly shall not receive you on the landing, monsieur; please walk
in."
"But, madame, I have come for Mademoiselle Rosette, your niece, to----"
"You will offend me by staying out here, monsieur."
I had to give way. I went in, hoping to remain in the first room; but
Madame Piquette pushed me toward a door at the farther end, making
another reverence. I concluded to enter the second room, which with the
first seemed to form the whole suite. And no Rosette! Could it be that I
had made another fruitless journey?
"I come, madame, from----"
"Pray be good enough to sit down, monsieur."
"It is not worth while, madame. I wanted to see Mademoiselle Rosette,
your niece----"
"You will mortify me by standing, monsieur."
I had no desire to mortify Madame Piquette, but I was inclined to regret
little Aunt Riflot at that moment. At last we were both seated. Madame
Piquette put a small rug under my feet. Did she think that I had come to
pass the day with her? She glanced in the mirror, and rearranged her cap
strings on her breast. That pantomime alarmed me; I looked about in
dismay; but for some unknown reason, I did not let my eyes rest on
Madame Piquette, who had partly unfastened her neckerchief. Mon Dieu!
what was the woman thinking of? At last, she finished her manoeuvring,
and I hastened to say, without stopping for breath:
"I have come from Madame Berlingot's finishing shop on Rue Pinon, to ask
Mademoiselle Rosette to mend a cashmere shawl."
Madame Piquette courtesied again; I glanced in the mirror and thought
that she was preparing to remove her neckerchief. Great heaven! what was
I about to see?
But, no; I had taken fright without cause; she rearranged her pink
ribbons about her neck, and replied:
"It is with the deepest regret, monsieur, that I find myself compelled
to inform you that Rosette is not here. I believe that she is at her
Aunt Dumarteau's at this moment."
"Will you kindly give me Madame Dumarteau's address?"
"It's a long way, monsieur, a long way from here!"
"I have a cab, madame."
"In that case, monsieur, take the trouble to go to Rue Verte, Faubourg
Saint-Honoré, No. 12."
"Exceedingly obliged, madame!"
"But if you would be pleased to rest a moment longer, monsieur, I should
be charmed to----"
I listened to no more; I rose, left the room, and went down the stairs
by leaps and bounds; I fancied that I could still see Madame Piquette
baring her neck before me.
"Rue Verte, No. 12," I said to my cabman.--Oh! Rosette, what a dance you
were leading me! But, no matter! As I had begun, I would persevere to
the end.
"Madame Dumarteau?" I said to the concierge.
"Sixth floor, door at the left."
Sixth floor! I would have bet on it! And this was only the fourth aunt!
What fate was in store for me?
I knocked at Madame Dumarteau's door, as she had no bell. A woman of
some fifty years, with a morose face, half opened the door, and asked in
a hoarse voice:
"What do you want?"
"Madame Dumarteau."
"That's me! Well?"
"I have come to see Mademoiselle Rosette, from----"
"Mamzelle Rosette ain't here."
"Where is she, then?"
"At her Aunt Lumignon's, Rue du Petit-Muse, Quartier Saint-Antoine."
"Very good! What number, please?"
But the lady had already closed her door in my face. Should I knock
again, to find out the number? No; Rue du Petit-Muse was short, I knew,
and I could inquire. My conversation with Madame Dumarteau was not long;
she had not an amiable look, but I preferred her ill humor to Madame
Piquette's coquetries. At all events, I lost no time there.
I started for Rue du Petit-Muse. If I had not known my Paris,
Mademoiselle Rosette could have undertaken to instruct me. I told the
cabman to stop at the corner of Rue Saint-Antoine, and went into one of
the first houses, where I said to the concierge:
"Madame Lumignon?"
"This is the place, monsieur."
Faith! I was in luck. The next step was to inquire which floor; I was
afraid that I could guess beforehand: I should surely be directed to the
seventh.
"Which floor, concierge?"
"At the rear of the courtyard, to the left, ground floor."
Ah! I breathed again! The aunts were coming down in the world.
Madame Lumignon was a little hunchback with a bright eye and a shrill
voice, like most hunchbacks. As soon as I mentioned her niece's name,
she smiled.
"Ah! you want Rosette," she said; "for Madame Berlingot, I suppose? Yes,
yes, I'm used to that; it's always the same song! If I was evil-minded,
I might suspect something! But I wash my hands of her. In the first
place, Rosette don't pay any attention to us; she's such a wilful
creature! So much the worse for her! I've warned her!"
"But, madame, she is wanted to mend a cashmere shawl."
"I know! I know! A fine thing, that cashmere shawl is!"
"Well, madame, is mademoiselle your niece with you?"
"With me! oh, yes! of course! When she comes here, she don't stay long
enough to mould."
"Where can I find her, then?"
"At her Aunt Chamouillet's, perhaps; but I won't swear to it."
"Madame Chamouillet's address, if you please?"
"Rue Madame, No. 4, near the Luxembourg."
I took leave of the hunchbacked aunt, who looked after me with a cunning
leer. I returned to my cab, and said to the driver:
"Rue Madame, near the Luxembourg."
"I say, monsieur, if you've got many more trips like this to make, my
horse will leave us on the road."
"No; whatever happens, this is the last but one."
We reached Rue Madame with difficulty; the horse was at his last gasp. I
unearthed Aunt Chamouillet. I was told to go up to the second floor,
where I found a woman washing on the landing; and just as I was climbing
the last stairs, that woman, who, I presume, had not heard me coming,
turned and emptied a large pail of soapsuds on the staircase. I was
drenched to the waist.
I swore like a pirate, whereupon the woman calmly observed:
"Why are the gutters all stopped up? It don't do any good to complain,
they don't clean 'em out; and I must empty my water somewhere."
"But you might at least look before you empty it."
"Did you get any of it?"
"Parbleu! I am drenched!"
"That'll dry, and it don't spot."
"Madame Chamouillet, if you please?"
"That's me. Have you got something you want washed?"
"No, madame; I am sufficiently washed now! I would like to speak with
Mademoiselle Rosette, your niece."
Madame Chamouillet had returned to her washing; she paid much more
attention to her linen than to what I said to her.
"I come, madame, on the part of Madame Berlingot, on Rue----"
"All right, monsieur, all right!--How can anyone soil linen like that!
Look, monsieur, I leave it to you!"
And she took from her tub a shirt, which she started to spread out for
my inspection. I evaded that demonstration; but, as she put the shirt
back in the tub, she threw a wet stocking in my face. I tried to take it
calmly; I wiped my face and continued:
"Will you kindly tell me where Mademoiselle Rosette is?"
"Where Rosette is? How do you suppose I know? Oh, yes! on my word! As if
anyone ever knows where she is!"
"What, madame! isn't she here?"
"No, monsieur.--It breaks my back to scrub this!"
"But where shall I go to find her?"
"Try at her aunts'."
"I have already seen six of them, counting you, madame. I have called on
Mesdames Falourdin, Riflot, Piquette, Dumarteau, Lumignon, and yourself.
Who is the one that's left for me to see?"
"Madame Cavalos, Rue de la Lune, No. 19. But I won't answer----"
As she spoke, Madame Chamouillet let a piece of soap slip out of her
hands, and my waistcoat had the benefit of it. I had had enough; I fled
from the laundress; I seemed to be pursued by soapsuds.
"Rue de la Lune, No. 19," I said to my cabman. Luckily, that took us
back into my own neighborhood, and I was sure that this last quest could
not be fruitless: Rosette must be there. That was the last of the aunts,
and she had told me positively that when she was not with one of them I
would find her with another. What a pity that I had not been sent to Rue
de la Lune at the outset!
I reached the end of my journeyings. I was directed to Madame Cavalos's
lodging on the entresol. I found a very stout, thickset, little old
woman, who greeted me with an affable bow and waited for me to speak.
"Madame Cavalos?"
"Bonjour, monsieur! very well, I thank you."
"I wanted to speak to your niece, Mademoiselle Rosette."
"Yes, monsieur, I don't change much; that's what everybody tells me."
"I come from Madame Berlingot."
"You thought I didn't live so low? I used to be higher up, but I've
moved down."
What did that mean? Madame Cavalos seemed to be stone deaf. I stepped
nearer to her, and shouted at the top of my lungs:
"I want to see Mademoiselle Rosette, your niece!"
"You say you have come about my lease?"
That was most trying. The woman was a fool. I gave up speaking and made
a lot of strange gestures, trying to arouse her curiosity at least.
Motioning to me to wait, she left the room, and returned with an ear
trumpet, which she held to her ear, saying:
"I ain't deaf; but some days I can't hear so well as others."
Poor old woman! she ought never to have laid aside her trumpet. I
repeated my question, and that time she replied:
"My niece Rosette? Why, she ain't here, monsieur."
"What, madame! not here? Why, where on earth can I find her, then?"
"Oh! that's easily done, monsieur. She must be with her Aunt Falourdin,
Faubourg Saint-Denis, corner of Rue Chabrol."
At that, I gave up all hope of finding my grisette; I had no desire to
begin the circuit of the aunts anew; I had had quite enough of them. I
bade my cabman take me home. It was five o'clock, and we had been on the
road since noon! Ah! Mademoiselle Rosette! Mademoiselle Rosette! you had
shown me aunts of all colors! What a day! Jason was certainly more
fortunate than I: after many perils, he obtained the Golden Fleece; I
had faced seven aunts, and had not obtained Rosette!
XXXVIII
THE DEALER IN SPONGES
As I entered my apartment, Pomponne came to meet me with his expression
that denoted news.
"There's someone waiting for you, monsieur, who's been here quite a long
while. But I didn't know that monsieur would be away so long; he did not
tell me."
"Can it be that Rosette has come while I have been running after her?"
"No, monsieur; it ain't Mamzelle Rosette?"
"Is it Madame Dauberny, then?"
"No, monsieur; it's a person of our sex."
"Oh! how you annoy me, Pomponne! I ought to have gone to see who was
there, instead of listening to you."
I went at once into my salon, and found Ballangier sitting in a corner
with a book in his hand.
I was agreeably surprised to find that he was neatly dressed. He wore a
gray blouse, but it was spotlessly clean; his trousers were well
brushed, his shoes polished; he had a clean white collar and a black
cravat. It was the costume of a well-behaved mechanic who was a credit
to his trade.
He came to meet me, with a timid air, saying:
"I ask your pardon, Charles, for waiting for you; I did wrong, perhaps;
but when I came, about two o'clock, your servant said you would soon be
back; and so, as I was anxious to see you, I said to myself: 'As long as
I'm here, I may as well stay.'"
"You did well, Ballangier, very well; I am very glad to see you, too.
Let me look at you. From your dress, and the expression of self-content
that I can read in your face, I am sure that you are behaving better
now."
"That is true; at all events, I am trying to. I am working for a
manufacturer in Faubourg Saint-Antoine--I had a letter of recommendation
to him."
"From whom, pray?"
Ballangier twisted his cap about in his hands as he continued:
"From an excellent man I used to work for long ago, and who never
despaired of me. They took me on trial, at first. The master had heard
very bad accounts of me, but I worked so well that after a while he got
to be less strict with me; then he increased my pay, without my asking,
and now he says everywhere that he's satisfied with me."
"Ah! that is splendid, my friend. And you were glad to tell me all this,
because you knew that it would give me great pleasure, weren't you?"
"Why, yes, I thought it would."
"Thanks, my friend, for thinking of that. Indeed, you cannot conceive
how I rejoice to learn of the change that has taken place in you! But
you will keep on, Ballangier; now that you have started on the right
path, you won't leave it again, will you? Besides, you must surely be a
happier man, now that you are earning your living, and can hold your
head erect boldly, without fear of being arrested by a creditor, or
assailed by a wife or mother whose husband or son you have led astray;
without reading on the faces of honest folk the contempt that evil
livers always inspire! Instead of that, you will be made welcome, made
much of, courted by respectable families; a father will no longer dread
to see his daughter, or a brother his sister, on your arm. You will be
loved, esteemed, highly considered. Yes, highly considered; for there is
no trade, no career, in which an honest man may not acquire that
consideration which mere wealth, unaccompanied by probity, cannot
acquire. Tell me if all this is not preferable to a life of debauchery,
which makes you either a brute or a madman most of the time; to the
false friendship of those wretches who know nothing but idleness, and
sometimes something much worse, who extol all the vices, who try to cast
ridicule on merit and hard work, because other men's merit gnaws at
their envy-ridden hearts, and, being unable to attain it, they do their
utmost to crush it?"
"Oh, yes! you are right, Charles: I am far happier! I reflect now; I
feel that I am an entirely different man. I read a good deal; I am fond
of reading, and it used to be impossible for me to read five minutes at
a time."
"Read, you cannot do better; but select good books; bad writers are
worse than false friends, for we have them under our hand every minute;
their treacherous counsels lead feeble or excitable minds astray; there
is no more dangerous companion for a tête-à-tête than an evil book."
"You must guide me; you must give me a list of authors whose works will
be profitable reading for me."
"I will do better than that. Come with me."
I led Ballangier to my book shelves, from which I took Racine, Molière,
Montesquieu, Fénelon, and La Fontaine.
"There, those are for you," I said; "take these books home with you, and
read them carefully and with profit. Some will seem to you a little
severe and serious; but the others, while they instruct you, will make
you laugh. Learn by heart the great, the immortal Molière. He
castigated the vices and absurdities of his time; but as vices unluckily
belong to all times, as men are no better to-day than they ever were, as
we meet in the world every day _tartufes, précieuses ridicules, avares,
and bourgeois gentilshommes_, Molière, like all authors who depict
nature, is and will be of all epochs.
"'Rien n'est beau que le vrai; le vrai seul est aimable.'[A]
That maxim is earnestly denied by those poets who have never succeeded
in being natural. They put a conventional jargon in the mouths of all
their characters, and call that style! In their works, the peasant talks
just like the noble; the man of the people uses as fine phrases as the
advocate; the maid-servant indulges in metaphors like the _grande dame;_
and they call that style! Posterity will do justice to all such stuff.
Bathos sinks and is drowned, while the natural sails smoothly along and
always rides out the storm."
"What! are all these fine books for me?"
"Yes; make a bundle of them and take them away."
"Oh! thanks, Charles!"
"When you have read them with profit, I will give you more."
"You are too kind! But I mean to make myself worthy of----. Well, you
will see. Meanwhile, I've brought this back to you."
He took from his pocket a small paper-covered package.
"What is there inside?"
"Twenty-nine francs."
"Why do you want to give me that?"
"Because I saw Piaulard and tried to pay him; but he was already paid;
a--person had settled with him. You probably know that person, and I
would like the twenty-nine francs to be returned."
"Well done, my friend! This act of yours proves the return of worthy
sentiments. But you need not worry; the person in question was paid long
ago. So, keep the money, and if you need any more to buy anything come
to me."
"Oh! I am not short of funds now. I have never been so rich. I don't
know how it happens."
"You don't know? Why, it's very easy to understand; you spend vastly
less, and earn vastly more; that's the whole secret of living in
comfort."
Ballangier tied up his books, we shook hands affectionately, and he went
away content, leaving me very happy. What a contrast to our previous
interviews!
The next day, I was still resting from my peregrinations of the previous
afternoon, and stoically making up my mind to wear mourning for
Mademoiselle Rosette, when the pretty brunette suddenly burst into my
room, vivacious, sprightly, and gay as always. She came to me and held
out her hand.
"Bonjour, monsieur! Are you still angry with me?"
"Angry? Why, it wasn't I who was angry; it was yourself."
"Oh! that's all over; let's not say any more about that; I don't bear
any malice, and I don't know how to sulk. I say, did you go and ask for
me at Aunt Falourdin's?"
"At Aunt Falourdin's? You put it mildly. If you should say at all seven
of your aunts', that would be nearer the truth!"
"Oh! that's impossible! You went to the whole seven? you saw the whole
assortment? Ha! ha! ha! Well, you must have had a merry time!"
Rosette was seized with a paroxysm of frantic laughter, during which she
could only repeat:
"He saw my seven aunts! Poor, dear boy! he saw my seven aunts!"
"Yes, I saw them all; and all in one day!"
"That was your Waterloo! I am sure that it will remain engraved on your
memory! I say, I'll bet that you'd rather go up the Marly hill seven
times in succession than go through that day's work again, eh?"
"I believe you. There is one Dame Piquette, in particular, who lives on
Rue aux Ours. Sapristi! I didn't feel at all comfortable in my
tête-à-tête with her!"
"Did she make eyes at you? I'll bet she made eyes at you! She's an old
coquette, who declares that she can't go out without being besieged. Oh!
my poor Charles!"
"But all that would have been nothing, mademoiselle, if I had succeeded
in finding you. It would seem that you accept hospitality elsewhere than
with your aunts?"
Rosette made a little grimace, which I interpreted as meaning that she
did not quite know what course to adopt; at last she said:
"I was with one of my friends. My aunts are always at me to get married,
and that tires me; I shall end by dropping all of 'em."
"I should say that you were doing that already."
"Come, let's not say any more about that. We're not cross any more, are
we? and you'll take me out to dinner, and we'll have a nice little
feed--what do you say? Yes, you will, it's all settled; and we'll go
into the country--it's a fine day--and roll on the grass."
How can one resist a pretty minx who proposes rolling on the grass? I
was on the point of signing the treaty of peace with Mademoiselle
Rosette, when the bell rang.
"My dear girl," I said to my grisette, "if it should happen to be the
lady who was here the other day, I trust that you won't make another
scene?"
"No, no, don't be afraid; I saw that I was wrong; she left me in
possession with such a good grace! I don't bear your friend any grudge
now."
At that moment, we detected a strong odor of essence of rose, and
Rosette exclaimed:
"_Dame!_ that lady uses plenty of perfumery! what a sachet bag!"
But the door opened, and no lady appeared, but Balloquet, in his best
clothes and with fresh gloves.
"Oh! I beg pardon, my dear Rochebrune! You are with a lady, and your
servant didn't tell me! I will go, and come again another day."
"No, stay, Balloquet, stay; mademoiselle will not object.--Isn't that
so, Rosette? you are willing that my friend should stay?"
"To be sure! I'm no savage; company don't scare me."
And Rosette put her mouth to my ear and whispered:
"Is he a perfumer?"
"No; a doctor."
"A doctor! Does he treat his patients with essences? He gives out such
an odor--you'd think he was the Grand Turk!"
Balloquet meanwhile said to me in an undertone:
"Good! I don't frighten this one away! She isn't like the little
blonde."
"Oh, no! she's not the same sort at all."
Balloquet had been with us but a moment, when the bell rang again, and
this time Frédérique appeared.
"The servant told me that there were three of you," she said, dropping
carelessly upon a chair; "and that's why I ventured to come in. Did I do
wrong, Rochebrune?"
"No, madame; you are always welcome. And mademoiselle here will take
advantage of the opportunity to express her regret for the unseemly
words she used to you the other day."
"Yes, madame," said Rosette, walking up to Madame Dauberny. "I was
wrong; I'm hot-headed; but turn your hand over, and I forget all about
it. Are you still angry with me?"
"Not in the least, mademoiselle," replied Frédérique, trying to smile;
"I assure you that I had forgotten it entirely. But I trust that I shall
not arouse your jealousy again."
"Oh! no, madame! Charles has told me that he never loved you, and that's
all I ask."
Frédérique bit her lips. I, for my part, was conscious of a sensation
that I cannot describe. I would gladly have horsewhipped Rosette, I
believe, if it had been possible. Women have a way of adjusting things
that often produces the contrary effect.
"Madame is acquainted with my sentiments, mademoiselle," I stammered,
awkwardly enough; "she appreciates them----"