"I tell you that it is all over! This peasant has been conquered,
disarmed; what more do you want?"
"We want him to apologize."
"We want most of all to kiss the pretty girl whom he has _en croupe_."
Jarnonville's only reply was to push aside with his arm all those who
stood in front of the horse, thus clearing a passage for him. Then he
made a sign to the peasant, who understood him and dug his heels into
Bourriquet's ribs. This time the poor beast seemed to share his master's
desire, and asked nothing better than to leave the field of battle. He
trotted off at full speed down Rue Saint-Jacques, and Cédrille and his
pretty companion soon disappeared from the eyes of the crowd.
All this had happened so quickly that Miretta hardly had time to grasp
Ambroisine's hand and say:
"Thanks! thanks! you have saved us! I shall come to see you, and to tell
you how grateful I am!"
"Come; you will ask for Ambroisine, the daughter of Master Hugonnet the
bath keeper, on Rue Saint-Jacques."
IX
CAUSES AND EFFECTS
Ambroisine's first care was to take the child back to its mother, a
woman of the people, who was there by the merest chance, having come to
find out why such a crowd had collected in front of the bath keeper's
establishment, little dreaming that her child would be the means of
adjusting that great quarrel.
Hugonnet's daughter kissed the little fellow, put a coin in his hand
with which to buy a cake, and returned to her home, curious to learn how
the gentlemen had taken the conclusion of the affair.
Sénange, La Valteline, Monclair, and their friends, were dazed for a
moment by the sudden departure of Cédrille and his companion. Some of
them were inclined to run after the peasant, others wanted to fight
Jarnonville, whom they accused of betraying them; they were all
displeased, and another battle was imminent perhaps, when general
attention was attracted by shouts and oaths proceeding from the place
recently occupied by Bourriquet.
A battle with fists was in progress between Master Hugonnet and one of
his neighbors, named Lambourdin, a dealer in ribbons, tags, fringes, and
other toilet articles, whose shop was not more than fifty yards from the
baths.
The two neighbors were ordinarily very good friends; they met sometimes
at the wine shop, which both were fond of frequenting; they laughed and
talked and drank together, and no one would ever have supposed that they
would one day entertain the inhabitants of the quarter with a genuine
pugilistic bout.
But who can foretell the future?
The most trivial cause is sometimes sufficient to embroil ambassadors
and to bring about war between two nations that could get along very
well without it; and we too often see old friends suddenly become
declared enemies.
In our day, politics sometimes produces such revolutions by its gentle
and benignant influence. In the good old times, there were sometimes
conspiracies of great personages, nobles, and persons in high station,
but the people paid little heed to their plots. They went to see them
hanged at Montfaucon, but they were not tempted to meddle with matters
that led to such results. In those days, the workman thought of nothing
but working to support his family, to save a marriage portion for his
daughter, and to make sure of a home in his old age. That was the sum
total of his politics; it made him neither ill, nor infuriate, nor
insane, nor sophistical, nor evil-minded! It made him happy!
In that respect we may well regret the good old times.
Let us return to the two neighbors.
Lambourdin, the dealer in small wares, was by inclination, and, above
all, by virtue of his trade, of the faction of the young nobles and the
courtiers. When a noble personage entered his shop and made a purchase,
Lambourdin puffed himself out like the frog in the fable, and never
failed to proclaim from the housetops that he supplied monsieur le
comte, or monsieur le marquis, or messieurs the pages attached to the
court.
And so, when he learned the cause of the gathering, which he could see
from his shop, the dealer in small wares hastened to the scene of the
combat, fully disposed to take up the cudgels for the young nobles, to
whom he was intensely anxious to display his entire devotion.
But the young men did not require the assistance of Master Lambourdin,
and he had had no other opportunity to show his interest in their
victory than by addressing an insulting remark or a threat to Cédrille
from time to time.
But when Master Hugonnet besmeared a page so successfully with his
lather, Lambourdin, far from finding that amusing, flew into a transport
of rage, especially as the page who was so thoroughly lathered had
bought two beautiful bows of ribbon at his shop that morning.
And so, as soon as the Black Chevalier's sword play had ceased, as soon
as Bourriquet had trotted away with his travellers on his back,
Lambourdin elbowed his way through the crowd to Master Hugonnet, and
said, eying him with a furious expression:
"Do you know, Neighbor Hugonnet, that you have behaved very badly
throughout this affair?"
"Ah! do you think so, Neighbor Lambourdin?" rejoined the barber, in a
bantering tone; for the wrathful expression blazing in the other's eyes
gave him a comical appearance, which inspired merriment rather than
alarm.
"Yes, I do think so!--What! you, to whose place the young nobles come by
preference, whether to bathe, or to have their hair and beards arranged,
and bring customers to your establishment and make it fashionable!--you
take sides against them in this quarrel, instead of going to their
assistance, as every self-respecting man should do! You take part with
strangers--a rustic and a strumpet from no one knows where!"
"I do what I please, what suits me, neighbor! I consult my heart before
my pocket. I look to see on which side the right and not the profit
is.--But why do you interfere? Is it any of your business?"
"Yes, monsieur le baigneur; yes, it is my business--And that young page
whom you smeared with soapsuds so shamefully! He even had it in his
eyes! You spoiled a superb bow of ribbon that I sold him this morning!"
"So much the better for you; he'll buy another one of you!"
"No, he will not--I mean, yes, he will buy another one.--But your
conduct is none the less indecent!"
"By Notre-Dame de Paris! you are beginning to make my ears burn,
Neighbor Lambourdin! Not another word, or I strike you!"
"Do you think to frighten me, you low-lived bath keeper, unworthy to
shave noble chins! I am no boy of fifteen; and if you should touch me
with your shaving brush, I'd trample you under foot like an old
blanket!"
"Ah! so! Well, take that! I won't touch you with my shaving brush!"
As he spoke, Hugonnet buried his fist in Lambourdin's side; the latter
had gone too far to retreat; and then, too, there were so many
witnesses! So he answered the blow with a kick, but he measured the
distance so inaccurately that he kicked into space.
Lambourdin was a little fellow, strong enough, but not of the build to
contend with Master Hugonnet. After a struggle that was not of long
duration, the two neighbors fell, still clinging to each other.
Unluckily, poor Lambourdin was underneath, and had to endure
simultaneously the weight of his adversary's body and the numerous blows
which he continued to administer. Then it was that the little man's
cries attracted the attention of the young gentlemen who had remained in
front of the bath keeper's house.
They ran to the scene of conflict; Hugonnet was excited and would not
release his neighbor; but when he heard the voice of his daughter, who
came up to see who the combatants were, the barber grew calmer, rose,
and entered his shop, saying:
"No matter! he got what he deserved! What need had he to meddle in the
affair?"
As for Lambourdin, who was completely done up and could hardly walk, he
required the assistance of two arms to return to his home, but they were
neither pages nor nobles who supplied them, although it was in their
behalf that he had fought!--So much for the gratitude of those whose
quarrels one embraces!
This incident diverted the young dandies, and made them forget Cédrille
and Miretta for a moment; and with a Frenchman, when the first ardor has
passed away, it very rarely returns.
Furthermore, a number of fair dames, who had had time to leave the bath
and to dress, came from the house, with a wink to one, a slight nod to
another; so that in a few moments the whole crowd dispersed, the idlers
sauntered away, the neighbors returned to their homes, and there was no
one left in the barber's shop save the Chevalier Passedix, who was
wiping Roland, which he had picked out of the gutter, and the Sire de
Jarnonville, who had thrown himself into a chair and was apparently lost
in thought and entirely oblivious to what was going on about him.
"Par la sandioux! my _belle baigneuse_," said the Gascon knight to
Ambroisine, who had remained in the shop, and who, as if by accident,
glanced very frequently in Jarnonville's direction, "I am very glad to
tell you that in this affair you comported yourself like a man of heart!
First, it was well done of you to take that stranger's part; what a
lovely face! sandis! what a fascinating profile! and the full face--it
is enough to bring one to one's knees! So that I knelt with ardor!--You
will pardon me, I trust, _belle baigneuse_, for praising another woman
in your presence. You too are superb, after a different type."
"Oh! say on, monsieur le chevalier, do not hesitate. Why should I take
it ill of you that you praise that girl? In the first place, she
deserves it, for she is very pretty. And then, have you not the right to
fall in love with her, if you please? does it concern me?"
"True, true! it could not affect you, since you have refused the homage
of my heart--for I think that I offered it to you----"
"But you are not quite sure, eh?"
"Why, you see, I have disposed of it so often! But let us return to the
stranger, to pretty Miretta--for her name is Miretta, is it not?"
"Yes, that is the name by which her companion, the stout peasant, called
her."
"And she is an Italian?"
"No; she told us that she was from Béarn; but it seems that she has
lived in Italy a long while."
"O mia cara!--I know a few words of Italian--they may be very useful to
me. As I was saying, superb Ambroisine, your conduct was glorious! You
showed a courage--a valor--if you had been of my family, you could have
done no better. That damned Jarnonville---- He does not hear me; I think
that he's asleep."
"Oh, no! he is not asleep; he is thinking, but not of us. Indeed, I
would wager that he doesn't even see that we are here!"
"He may hear me or not, I snap my fingers at him! That damned
Jarnonville, by a bungler's thrust--for it is never used, everybody
scorns to use it--however, he knocked my sword from my hand; and I said
to myself just now: 'How in the deuce could I have let Roland go? There
must have been some deviltry about it, for it is the first time I was
ever disarmed!'--Well, sandioux! I have found the cause, while wiping
the hilt of my weapon.--What do you suppose I found on it, just at the
spot where one grasps it? I will give you ten thousand guesses."
"I prefer that you should tell me at once."
"Well, my beauty, I found a strip of pork twisted around the hilt of
Roland. So you will see that it is not surprising that my sword slipped
from my hand. Ah! cadédis! if I knew who played me that vile trick of
larding my sword like a partridge!--You laugh, I believe----"
"Bless me! monsieur le chevalier, it seems to me so amusing that your
rapier should have been treated like a fowl; it is laughable enough!"
"Do you doubt what I say? Never has a lie soiled my lips!--Look, lovely
girl! yonder is that accursed pork which I found on Roland; I threw it
into that corner; you can see for yourself."
"I do not doubt what you say, monsieur le chevalier; but as the quarrel
attracted many people to this spot, and as there were several housewives
among them, returning from market with well-filled baskets on their
arms, it is probable that one of them dropped that fine strip of pork on
your sword as it lay on the ground; and she is probably looking
everywhere for it now."
This explanation did not seem to the liking of Passedix, for he
compressed his lips angrily and muttered:
"There are some people who distort the simplest things.--But enough of
that. Tell me now, young Hugonnetté, by what miracle you so suddenly
appeased the wrath of that miscreant Jarnonville? How did it happen that
at sight of a little brat of three or four years that madman, who knows
neither God nor the devil, became absolutely calm. I confess that I was
so surprised that I feel it yet."
Ambroisine motioned to Passedix to follow her to the rear of the shop,
where the Sire de Jarnonville could neither see nor hear them.
The Gascon, who was very curious to know what the girl had to tell him,
lost no time in seating himself by her side on a bench; whereupon
Ambroisine resumed the conversation, taking care, however, to speak in
undertones.
"Have you known the Sire de Jarnonville long?"
"No--about a year; and even so, I know him only from having been with
him in several affrays. He fights well, I am bound to admit, but he's a
good-for-nothing fellow. He doesn't believe in anything, and I don't
like atheists. I am a bad man with the fair, a libertine, a rake, a
seducer!--anything you please, I will not say _nay_. But all that does
not prevent my being religious, for without religion there is no true
chivalry; and all those stainless knights who fought in Palestine would
then be mere braggarts.--But why do you ask me that question?"
"Because, if you had known the Sire de Jarnonville long, you would
probably know as much about him as I do, and you would have a very
different opinion of him.--I will tell you what I have heard here. About
five or six months ago, the Black Chevalier, for he is sometimes so
called, had just left our house, where he had been telling the story of
one of his exploits--he had broken everything in a tavern, I believe.
When he had gone, a gentleman quite advanced in years, but with a face
that inspired respect, said to another gentleman who was with him: 'Poor
Jarnonville! how he has changed! who would believe, to look at him now,
that he was once the mildest, most obliging, most virtuous of men! the
man who was held up as a model to young gentlemen who were just entering
the world!'--'What can have changed him so?' the other
inquired.--'Jarnonville was married, and he lost his wife, whom he loved
very dearly; but she had left him a child, a little girl, who was, they
say, an angel of beauty, sweetness, and docility. Jarnonville adored
little Blanche--that was his daughter's name; she had become his only
love, his sole joy, his whole hope for the future; constantly intent
upon providing some pleasure, some delight for his darling child, his
grief for his wife's death gradually faded away. Happy and proud to be
all in all to his daughter, who became every day more charming in body
and mind, Jarnonville hardly ever left little Blanche. At four years of
age--and that is very, very young!--at four years of age, the child
understood all that she owed to her father, all the sacrifices to which
he submitted for her sake; but she repaid them all by her love. Never
did a child of that age manifest such affection for its father! If he
left her for an instant, her eyes filled with tears; but as soon as she
saw him, an enchanting smile lighted up her lovely face.--Poor child!
You will understand how he must have loved her!--Well! that child,
already so far beyond her years in her feelings and her intelligence,
that pretty Blanche--he lost her after an illness of a few days only!
One of those cruel diseases which feed upon childhood, and which the
doctors are as yet unable to cure, carried off the poor little
darling!--I will not try to describe her father's grief; it would be
impossible. But the frightful calamity that had befallen him changed his
character absolutely. Jarnonville accused heaven, Providence. Having
never been guilty in his whole life of any evil deed, he rebelled
against the fate that dealt him such a cruel blow, which snatched away
that little creature to whom life seemed to offer such a beautiful and
peaceful prospect--in short, that man, who had always been so religious,
ceased utterly to be so, and blasphemed God. Deaf to all consolation, he
lived a long while in retirement. When, by dint of constant
solicitation, his friends succeeded in luring him back into society, he
was no longer the Jarnonville of other days. To divert his thoughts from
his grief, he joins all the parties conceived by the worst scapegraces
in the city; not a duel, not a nocturnal affray, in which he does not
take part. He drinks, drinks to excess, gambles, passes whole nights in
debauchery, serves as second to all the young scatterbrains who sow
discord in families. He has become the bugbear of the petits bourgeois,
the terror of cabaretiers, tavern keepers, of all decent folk; in a
word, he is just the opposite of all that he used to be.--But, for my
part, I cannot help pitying him; it is his head which is at fault, not
his heart; it is despair that has changed his nature. Nor do I believe
that he is altogether lost! He still wears mourning for his daughter. In
the midst of his debauchery, he has not chosen to lay aside his sombre
garments; and when he seems most excited by gambling, wine, or passion,
show him a child of about the age of his little Blanche when she died,
and you will see a magical change take place in him instantly; his eyes
will fill with tears, and that man, whose glance made you tremble a
moment before, will become silent and as gentle as a child.'
"That is what the gentleman told his friend. I listened, at first from
curiosity, then with deep interest; and since then, whenever I see the
Sire de Jarnonville, despite his harsh or brusque manner, he does not
seem to me such a bad man as he used.--To-day, when I saw him interfere
in that battle and take sides against us with his long sword, which he
uses so skilfully, I said to myself: 'Those poor travellers are lost!'
And, in fact, your Roland was already on the ground and the peasant's
staff was beginning to give way, when I remembered what I had heard. A
little boy was close by, in his mother's arms; I ran and seized him--and
you saw how successful my idea was; for the Black Chevalier instantly
ceased to fight, and himself looked to the safe departure of the
travellers."
Passedix had listened to Ambroisine, making from time to time one of
those little grimaces which indicate that one places little credence in
what one hears. When she had finished her narrative, he said, shaking
his head:
"Between ourselves, _belle baigneuse_, what you have told me seems most
extraordinary, and in my opinion this story of the Sire de Jarnonville
is a trifle chimerical!"
"Why so, seigneur?" replied Ambroisine, leaving the bench. "It seems to
me no more extraordinary than your story of the pork twisted round your
sword hilt; and I should say that the event has proved that the
gentleman's story was true."
Passedix did not think it best to reply. He walked toward Jarnonville,
who had risen and was standing in the doorway.
"Sire de Jarnonville," said the Gascon, offering him his hand, "we both
fought like brave men; you were victorious, but I bear you no ill will!
especially as I am able to explain why Roland slipped from my hand. We
were not on the same side, but, since peace has been concluded, shake
hands, and let bygones be bygones!"
Instead of putting his hand in the hand that was offered him,
Jarnonville, who had seemed not to listen to the Gascon, suddenly
hurried away, without a word in reply.
"Sandioux! what does that mean?" cried Passedix, still standing with
outstretched hand, while Ambroisine turned her face away to laugh.
"Damme! is this the way that discourteous _sombrinos_ responds to my
civility! Evidently, this Jarnonville is nothing more than a felon, a
boor, whom I will chastise handsomely at our first meeting. And let no
one presume to thrust a child in between us, sandis! or I will give him
a good kick somewhere!"
At that moment, a young bachelor, who had been in front of Master
Hugonnet's house when Cédrille and his companion were blockaded there,
and who had disappeared simultaneously with Bourriquet, returned to the
shop, shouting:
"Ah! I know where the pretty girl has gone! I know what that charming
Milanese came to Paris for!"
"You know that, boy!" cried the Chevalier Passedix, running up to the
young man. "Oh! tell me quickly what you know, and I swear to you, by
Roland and my godfather Chaudoreille, that I will treat you to a jar of
wine at the next _fête carillonnée_."
"I had just as lief tell you for nothing!"
"Well, tell me for nothing; I agree, I will consent to whatever you
wish; but speak, I am dying with impatience!"
"While everybody else stood here in open-mouthed amazement at the sudden
departure of the travellers, I followed the horse at a distance. He went
at a fast trot, but I have good legs, and I am not broken-winded."
"Arrive at the point, accursed chatterbox!"
"It was the travellers who arrived; that is to say, they stopped first
to inquire the way of a dealer in pottery; then they trotted off again
to Rue Saint-Honoré and stopped in front of a fine house."
"On Rue Saint-Honoré! Are you sure of that? Why, sandis! that is my
quarter; it could not happen better! But to whom does the house belong?"
"It was the Hôtel de Mongarcin, where Mademoiselle Valentine de
Mongarcin is now living with her aunt, Madame de Ravenelle."
"Very good! this boy is no fool; go on."
"All three of the travellers entered the courtyard--I say all three,
counting the horse."
"Go on, I say, sandioux!"
"As I was curious to know what they were going to do there, I strolled
back and forth in front of the house."
"That was very ingenious."
"And, sure enough, before long came out an old servant who knows my
father. I ran up to him and questioned him, and he said: 'That young
girl has come here to enter the service of Mademoiselle Valentine de
Mongarcin. She has been recommended to her, it seems; so it's all
settled. As for the peasant who brought her here, he is going to rest a
day or two and then go back to his province, unless he also prefers to
find a place in Paris; but it seems that that is not to his
taste.'--That is what I have learned."
"Thanks! a thousand thanks, my boy! Hôtel de Mongarcin, Rue
Saint-Honoré. I shall be seen frequently in that vicinity.--Sandis! I am
sorry that she is only a lady's-maid. But, after all, Dulcinea del
Toboso was not a princess; and whatever anyone may say, Don Quixote was
a hearty blade, and as good a man as another.--Au revoir, my boy! I will
treat you whenever you choose, you know."
And Chevalier Passedix walked away by Rue des Mathurins, and the young
bachelor by Place Cambray.
After a day so well employed, it was natural enough that Master Hugonnet
should visit his usual wine shop in the evening; and he did not fail to
do so. Doubtless there was a large assemblage of patrons, and the events
of the morning, as they gave rise to much talk, naturally resulted in a
proportionate amount of drinking.
The consequence was that Master Hugonnet returned home very late,
completely drunk, and exceedingly susceptible to emotion, as he always
was when in that condition.
Ambroisine, who was sitting up for her father, was not at all surprised
by his state, and she urged him to go up to bed.
But Hugonnet had tears in his eyes, and he groaned mournfully as he
stammered:
"Poor Lambourdin--it breaks my heart! Just imagine, daughter--he was
shamefully beaten this morning!"
"I know it, father, and so do you, as it was you who beat him."
"I! do you think so?--Oh! what a calamity!--my dear friend Lambourdin!
Just imagine--he was beaten so--it's an outrage! Poor Lambourdin! my
heart is heavy!--How could anyone beat such an honorable man?"
"Why, it was you who beat him."
"I! impossible!--When I heard of it, I wept with grief.--Poor
Lambourdin! I will avenge him!"
And Master Hugonnet would not consent to go to bed until he had wept
freely over the fate of his friend Lambourdin, and had sworn again to
avenge him.
X
THE PLACE AUX CHATS