"Where in the devil is that clown taking this seductive morsel?"
"Pardieu! messieurs, we will find out."
"It shall not be said that a charming creature shall pass us like this,
without our taking measures to find her again."
"But this girl, with her square cap and her veil on top of her head,
with her striped waist and skirt of such brilliant colors, certainly is
not a Frenchwoman; she wears an Italian costume."
"Do you think so, La Valteline?"
"I am sure; it's the costume of the peasants in the suburbs of Milan.
Pardieu! I ought to know; I was at Milan last year!"
"You are right; the girl has something Italian or Israelitish in her
face, and her slightly bronzed complexion also tends to confirm your
conjectures."
The horse and his riders had by this time reached the bath keeper's
house, and were about to pass it on their way down Rue Saint-Jacques,
when the young Marquis de Sénange ran out and placed himself in front of
the peaceful beast, which instantly halted.
Thereupon the young noble, doffing his hat, saluted the girl and her
escort with respect, and all the other bystanders made haste to do the
like.
The Béarnais peasant, astounded by all these courtesies, deemed it
advisable none the less to remove his cap and return the salutations of
all those young men who treated him so politely.
As for the girl, she raised her great black eyes and, with an expression
in which there was more surprise than timidity, looked about at the
persons who were gazing at her.
"Par la sambleu! my dear monsieur, how fortunate we are to fall in with
you, and to be the first to present you our respectful homage. But we
have been waiting for you a long while.--Pray put on your hat--we
entreat you! You must surely see by the joy which your arrival causes us
how impatiently you and your charming travelling companion were awaited
in Paris!"
"Eh! damme! what's that? we were expected in Paris?" cried the big
countryman, who had listened with a dazed expression to young Sénange's
harangue.
"Can you doubt it?" said the Chevalier de La Valteline, in his turn,
walking nearer to the horse's hind quarters in order to examine the girl
more closely. "Do you not know that we are notified in advance at Paris
when such interesting travellers as you are to arrive here? Deputations
were sent to all the barriers to welcome you. It is very strange that
you did not meet them--eh, messeigneurs?"
Shouts arose on all sides, accompanied by roars of laughter, which the
clerks of the Basoche and the students could not restrain, and in which
the valets and all the blackguards of the quarter did not hesitate to
join.
"Pray dismount, my master, and come with us to take some refreshment,
you and this lovely child; we will give you a taste of a certain choice
wine which we have put aside for the express purpose of celebrating your
arrival. I will help your companion to dismount first."
As he spoke, the jovial Sénange offered his knee to the girl for use as
a stepping stone, while the peasant, bewildered by what he heard and, it
may be, a little tempted by the offer of wine, seemed to hesitate as to
what he ought to do, and to be inclined to accept the invitation. But
his pretty companion, instead of dismounting as she was invited to do,
seized her escort's arm with little ceremony, and said to him, under her
breath, but in a firm tone:
"Don't get down, Cédrille; don't you see that all these fine gentlemen
are making sport of you and me, for all their courtesies and fine
manners? They say that they expected us, but I will wager that they do
not even know who we are. Just ask that most dandified one, who has such
a smooth tongue, to tell you your name and why we have come to Paris;
and you'll see that he won't be able to answer you."
These words changed the peasant's plans. He sat more firmly in his
saddle, and, addressing the man who had spoken first, said in a tone
wherein it was easy to detect distrust:
"One moment, my fine gentleman; we don't make acquaintances so fast, we
peasants don't, especially as we were told that we must be on the
lookout in Paris; and that there was a lot of fellows, law students and
ne'er-do-wells, yes, and some great nobles, who like to poke fun at
poor folks, especially peasants and people who work in the fields.
That's an entertainment that we don't care about giving, d'ye see!--You
say we were expected in Paris--so you know me and the little one, I
suppose? Well, if you know us--who are we?--tell us who we are? Answer,
if you please, messeigneurs."
The young men looked at one another and winked.
"This clod is not so stupid as he looks," said one.
"That didn't come from him," said a page; "the little one prompted him
to say it."
"He was all ready to dismount, but the girl held him back."
"You ask me who you are," rejoined young Sénange, twirling his
moustache; "why, you know who you are! So what need is there for me to
tell you what you already know?--Nonsense! come with us, my master, and
drink and touch glasses; the wine we will give you is much better than
that you drink in your village."
"Oh, no! oh, no! not till you have answered my questions; but you can't
do that!"
"Your questions! By what right, pray, do you put questions to us, when
we are offering you a civil attention? Do you know, my handsome
traveller, that it is not decent to refuse to drink a glass, to empty a
goblet, to our health?--Are you afraid to drink? In that case, you would
make a dismal companion!--I say, messieurs, what do you think of this
lout who fears to compromise himself by drinking with us?"
"Probably the knave has never tasted wine; he thinks that we intend to
purge him."
"He is sadly in need of having the rust rubbed off--the clown!"
"Ah! but he must drink! We will pour a pint or two down his throat from
the Souris Blanche, which is just across the way."
"We will teach the fool what courtesy is!"
"Ah! so silly talk is taking the place of your civilities now!" said the
peasant, with a frown.
His companion touched him on the shoulder and murmured:
"Go on, Cédrille! whip your horse. Don't stay in the midst of all these
young gentlemen. They look to me like bad fellows; their shouts and the
way they look at me--I am beginning to be frightened."
"Whip Bourriquet! why, they have got hold of his bridle; and how can we
go on in the middle of all this crowd? I wouldn't like to ride over
anyone, for then they would make trouble for me.--Jarny! Miretta, I am
sorry already that you insisted on coming to this Paris!"
"Pray dismount, my pretty Milanese," said the Chevalier de La Valteline,
offering his hand to the girl, whose name, as we now know, was Miretta.
"Milanese!" she retorted, refusing the young nobleman's hand. "Ah! you
guess that from my costume; it is true that I have lived in the
neighborhood of Milan from infancy, but I was not born in Italy; I am
from the same province as Cédrille."
"And Cédrille is a Béarnais?"
"Yes, messieurs; from Pau, by your leave," said the peasant.
"Vive Cédrille!"
"Vive Cédrille of Pau!"
And the young nobles, as they shouted the name, waved their hats and
handkerchiefs, while the bachelors and squires joined hands and began to
dance and caper around the horse and his riders.
The girl's face flushed, her impatience got the better of her; she
struck the horse's flank with her hand, while the peasant did his best
to urge his steed forward, crying:
"Let go of Bourriquet's rein, seigneurs! let go of my horse, ten
thousand devils!"
"Ah! Bourriquet! the horse's name is Bourriquet!"
"His rider should bear that name!"
"Poor _bourrique_,[B] who has to carry another of his kind!"
[B] _Bourrique_, an ass; _bourriquet_, an ass's colt.
"No, no! your horse shall not take a step!"
"Don't worry him with your rein."
"Dismount, Cédrille of Pau; if not, we will forcibly remove you and your
companion from Bourriquet's back!"
Some of Master Hugonnet's customers were already preparing to carry out
this threat; but at that crisis, the Béarnais peasant, whose face had
turned purple and had assumed a menacing expression, quickly raised his
right arm, and brandishing in the air the dogwood staff with which his
right hand was armed, twirled it about in the faces of those who
approached, with such fearless and uncompromising dexterity that in a
moment there was a large space cleared in front of the travellers; and
yet, some of the jokers did not move back quickly enough to avoid a blow
from the redoubtable dogwood staff.
Meanwhile, the pretty girl threw both arms about her companion, and,
raising her head, seemed to defy with her glance those who surrounded
her, and to say to them:
"Come forward now, if you dare!"
All this had taken place in an instant; but the panic was soon over, and
all the young men, who were in the habit of beating the watch, fighting
with citizens, and brawling every night in the streets of Paris, were in
no humor to fly from a peasant's club. Having retired to a safe
distance, they turned about once more and drew their swords; the
bachelors, students, pages, and esquires did the same; for at that
blessed epoch almost every man wore a sword or a rapier of some sort, in
order to be always in a position to fight on the most trivial pretext: a
consequence of the gentle manners and pacific customs of the good old
times.
At sight of the bare swords, Miretta said to her companion:
"Come, push on, Cédrille! beat your horse! Let us get away from here, or
some disaster will happen to us."
The peasant shook Bourriquet's rein with no gentle force; but although
the beast no longer felt a hand on his bit, he stood like a statue in
his tracks, and, in spite of the urging of his rider, refused to advance
a step, terrified doubtless by the noise that he heard and by the crowd
that stood in a circle about him.
Meanwhile, the young men again approached, half threateningly, half
laughingly; they brandished their swords, and some of the points were
already in contact with the dogwood staff which Cédrille continued to
handle with much address, while they shouted in his ears:
"Down! down, rustic!"
"Dismount at once, and ask our pardon on your knees!"
"Yes, let him apologize! or else we will carry off the girl!"
"And Bourriquet too!"
"And we will break the staff over Cédrille's back!"
"Break my staff!--Oh! jarnidieu! there's more than one of you who will
have a few ribs broken first!"
But when she saw all those gleaming blades directed against her
companion, and often, by inadvertence, threatening her own person,
pretty Miretta uttered piercing shrieks; she called imploringly for
help. To her cries, uttered as they were in a plaintive, grief-stricken
tone, the young men replied by a storm of jests and lamentations; they
tried to reassure the girl, to make her understand that they would do
her no harm; but she, too terrified to hear what they said, continued
her outcries.
Thereupon Master Hugonnet, who thus far had continued to shave Monsieur
de Monclair, abandoned his customer and ran into the street to find out
what was happening. At the same time, Ambroisine left the baths to
ascertain the cause of the uproar and the shrieks that she heard.
As the father and the daughter reached the street, two other persons
arrived on the scene, one by Rue des Mathurins, the other from
Saint-Benoît cemetery; and, having quickened their pace in order to
arrive sooner, they made their appearance at almost the same
moment--forcing their way through the crowd without ceremony, and
distributing blows to right and left among those who did not move aside
quickly enough to make way for them.
VIII
A BATTLE
"Ah! here's our friend Passedix, whom we were so anxious about!" cried
several of the reckless youths, when they spied the long, lank,
yellow-faced chevalier, who always wore a helmet, which heightened his
resemblance to Don Quixote, although his helmet was not of the shape of
that worn by the Knight of the Rueful Countenance.
"Ah! here is the Sire de Jarnonville!" exclaimed others of the young
men, at sight of the second of the two new-comers, who, by rough
handling of the crowd, had arrived in front of the barber's shop.
He was a tall, handsome man, dressed in a rich but very sombre costume;
his black doublet, slashed with white satin, had the appearance of a
mourning garment; a black velvet cloak, faced with white, covered his
shoulders; his full, funnel-shaped top-boots also were black, although
most gentlemen wore yellow ones except when they went to war. His
broad-brimmed hat, turned up in front, had no other ornament than a long
plume of the same color as the cloak. So that the Sire de Jarnonville
was sometimes given the sobriquet of the _Black Chevalier_.
He was thirty-eight years of age, but seemed much older, because his
brown hair was beginning to turn gray; because his noble and regular
features were almost always clouded, as if under the burden of painful
thoughts; because his eyes also had ordinarily an expression of profound
sadness; and lastly, because his brow was furrowed with premature
wrinkles, and the clouds which darkened it were rarely dissipated.
And yet this gentleman, whose aspect was so gloomy, and whom one would
have taken to be the enemy of all pleasure, had for several years past
participated in all the amusements and festivities, and especially in
all the brutal tricks which were played on bourgeois, tradesmen, and
even attachés of the court. Whenever one of the most dissolute
frequenters of the bathing establishments proposed some new escapade--to
abduct a woman, to hoodwink a guardian, or to thrash the watch and throw
a whole quarter into dismay, he could be certain beforehand that the
Sire de Jarnonville would join him; he was one of the first volunteers
in all perilous undertakings; he always rushed to the spot where the
danger was greatest, fought like four men, and was the last to leave the
field.
If anyone had a duel on hand and lacked a second, the Black Chevalier
was always ready to render him that service, without even inquiring as
to the subject of the dispute or the name of the adversary; but always
on condition that he should fight with the opposing seconds.--Did anyone
propose to gamble and drink, Jarnonville gambled and drank, and
sometimes drank too much. Amid the companions of his revels, at the
banquet table, in a midnight affray, in a duel, he almost always
retained that melancholy expression which had aged his features before
their time; to one who watched him fight and gamble and drink, it seemed
that he did all those things without inclination or pleasure, but solely
in the hope of diverting his thoughts; and that he could not succeed in
doing it. Such was the personage who had forced his way through the
crowd and taken his stand beside the Marquis de Sénange, while the
Chevalier de Passedix approached Bourriquet's hind quarters and
contemplated with admiration the pretty girl who was seated thereon.
"Ah! here is Jarnonville! Vivat! the victory is ours!"
"Come on our side, O Black Chevalier! you arrive in the nick of time;
there's a girl to be kidnapped, and a clown to be beaten!"
"Vrai Dieu! it seems to me that there are a good many of you for such a
small matter!" rejoined the Sire de Jarnonville, casting his eye over
the crowd assembled before the barber's house.
"Yes; but the task is not so simple as you might think, my master; for
we must obtain possession of this pretty wench without doing her the
slightest harm; and yonder idiot, with his club, is capable of wounding
the little one in trying to defend her."
"Ah! he knows how to handle the staff, does he? So much the better! we
will judge of his talent."
"Sandioux! messeigneurs," cried Passedix, "why do you attack this child?
and this stout youth whom she presses to her heart, rolling her lovely
eyes to beseech our compassion?--I wish, first of all, to know the
subject of the quarrel; and I object beforehand to any sort of force
being put upon such a charming wench!"
"Come, come, valiant Passedix, just move away from that nag's hind
quarters and come over to our side! Do you mean to desert our camp? are
you going over to the Greeks?"
"Beware, second Don Quixote; we shall have no mercy for traitors!"
"Cadédis! if you think to frighten me, my boy, you waste your time and
your words! With my good Roland, this trusty blade which came to me from
my godfather Chaudoreille, I will spit you all like smelts, provided
that this lovely child accepts me for her knight. One word from her
sweet mouth, and I make mincemeat of you all!"
Bursts of laughter greeted the Gascon chevalier's braggadocio; but he,
drawing his long sword, put the point to the ground before Miretta, and
bent his knee as he said to her:
"Answer, O marvellous queen of Paphos and Cythera! Will you accept me
for your champion in the combat which I beg the privilege of undertaking
for you? Give me a pledge--the merest trifle--your glove; you have none?
then your pretty hand, that I may kiss it; and I am victor!"
Miretta stared in utter amazement at that tall man, thin as an asparagus
stalk, who was almost kneeling at her horse's tail; she seemed not at
all inclined to accept him for her knight, for ugliness inspires women
with little confidence, and the Chevalier Passedix was perfectly ugly.
But the Béarnais peasant, still twirling his staff, said to the Gascon:
"Thanks for your offer, seigneur cavalier; it isn't to be refused.--Here
are I don't know how many of them setting on me, and I am all alone to
defend my travelling companion! My opinion is that it's a cowardly
trick! But come and take my side, and I'll warrant that with my club and
your spit we'll prevent these gentry from carrying off Miretta."
Although he considered the term _spit_ in very bad taste as applied to
Roland, the valorous Passedix, whom Miretta's eyes had already taken
captive, instantly took his stand in front of the horse, threatening the
assailants with his sword.
While these things were taking place about the travellers, Master
Hugonnet and his daughter, having learned the subject of the quarrel,
were striving to make the reckless youths drawn up in battle array in
front of the shop listen to reason. But that which at first was a simple
jest had become, in the eyes of those young dandies, a matter of
self-esteem, almost of honor. No one of them was willing to give ground
before Cédrille's staff. In order that the dispute should come to an
end without violence, it would have been necessary for the peasant to
agree to apologize to those who had jeered at him and insulted him, and
he was in no mood to humble himself before them.
"By Notre-Dame! messeigneurs," said Hugonnet, going from one to another
of his customers, with his basin of soapsuds in one hand and his shaving
brush in the other, "what have this peasant and his companion done to
you that you should pick a quarrel with them? What an idea--to throw a
whole quarter into commotion and bring the whole neighborhood to the
windows, for two travellers who have only one horse between them!"
"Leave us in peace, Hugonnet; attend to your own affairs; this doesn't
concern you!"
"Pardieu! yes, it does concern me; for you are blocking the whole
street, you are in battle order in front of my house, so that it would
be impossible for anyone to come near who might happen to want a bath or
a shave! So you see that you injure me with your quarrelling, and that
it does concern me."
"For heaven's sake, messieurs," said Ambroisine, in her turn, "do not
torment this poor traveller like this! What pleasure can you find in
frightening a woman? Let these people go their way. They are not
Parisians--anyone can see that! They do not know that you are only
threatening them in joke."
"In joke!" repeated young La Valteline, with a frown. "But you are not
aware, _belle baigneuse_, that that peasant's staff has soiled my
cloak!--Oh! I must chastise him for that! These knaves must be taught
the respect that they owe us."
"And why do you jeer at them and attack them, if you wish them to
respect you?"
"Enough, fair Ambroisine! sermons are all right for preachers, but they
amount to nothing in a pretty girl's mouth!"
"Come, Jarnonville! forward! have at him! have at him! let us trounce
the peasant!"
"Not without my helping to defend him!" ejaculated Master Hugonnet,
running to take his stand beside the travellers, still carrying his
basin and shaving brush.
"And I will not allow that girl to be insulted, without doing what I can
to help her!" cried Ambroisine, following her father and placing herself
in front of Miretta.
"That is right! good! good for _la baigneuse_!" cried all the women, who
had been drawn to the scene by the noise of the quarrel. "You are on the
girl's side, and we too will defend her!"
"All these ne'er-do-wells are fit for nothing but to insult women!"
"Let us pick up stones and throw them at the villains!"
"No, no! by Notre-Dame!" cried Hugonnet. "No stones, I entreat you! You
will break my windows and my sign, and I shall have to pay for all the
damage! We shall be able to settle this business without you!"
The young gentlemen were embarrassed, for, although eager to fight and
having little fear of their adversaries, they were afraid that in the
scrimmage they might injure the pretty traveller and Ambroisine.
The latter, divining what held them back, took delight in defying all
those fine cavaliers, who were in the habit of making love to her, and
several of whom called out to her:
"Come away from there, _belle baigneuse_; that is no place for you!"
"You are in our way. Besides, you ought not to take sides against your
customers!"
"I don't care a fig for customers! Let these travellers go their way,
and I will agree to shave all of you."
This proposition seemed to make an impression on several of the young
men; but the Sire de Jarnonville, irritated by all this discussion, drew
his sword and strode toward the horse's head. With a few passes he soon
sent the famous Roland flying through the air. Passedix, disarmed,
called loudly for another weapon.
The Black Chevalier thereupon turned his attention to the dogwood staff,
but he had not so simple a task as with the Gascon's sword.
At that moment, a young page, who had stolen forward to unseat Miretta,
was confronted by Master Hugonnet; and he, having no other weapons than
his basin and shaving brush, instantly covered the page with a thick
coating of lather, filling his nose and mouth and even his eyes with it;
whereupon the assailant began to shriek at the top of his voice. All
eyes were turned in that direction. At sight of that face completely
covered with lather, a roar of laughter burst from all who were present,
friends and foes, combatants and lookers-on; it was as if they were
trying to see who could laugh the loudest.
This incident suspended the combat for a moment. But the Sire de
Jarnonville, who alone had taken no part in the general merriment,
immediately renewed his attack on the peasant's staff. Whether because
Cédrille's arm was tired, or because the sight of that gleaming weapon,
whirling through the air and sometimes striking sparks, dazzled his
eyes, he began to defend himself less vigorously. At last, a blow dealt
with more force than usual broke the staff.
The peasant was beaten; the Black Chevalier's weapon was already on the
point of forcing him to dismount, when Ambroisine, who had left her post
a moment before, suddenly reappeared, carrying in her arms a little boy
of three or four years; and darting in front of Jarnonville, she held
the child out to him, crying:
"Take care, seigneur, you will wound this child!"
Those words and the sight of the little boy produced a magical effect on
the Black Chevalier. He paused and dropped his arm, which was raised to
strike; the warlike ardor which enlivened his face gave way to an
expression of sadness, almost of tenderness. He gazed for some seconds
at the little fellow, who, not realizing that he was in the midst of a
battle, was not in the least frightened, but smiled up at the chevalier,
crying:
"I'd like to fight, too!"
Jarnonville stooped to kiss the child's forehead, and replaced his sword
in its sheath. Then, turning to the young noblemen, who were utterly
amazed at the change that had taken place in him, he said to them:
"It's all over, messieurs; the treaty of peace is signed!"