a good beast and carried us finely; but we made short days, so as not to
tire him."
"And your travelling companion--does he too hope to find a place in
Paris?"
"Oh! no, mademoiselle; Cédrille came with me only as a favor to me; and
he is going right back to his province, after he has rested a little in
Paris."
"This Cédrille, who is your cousin, is your betrothed too, perhaps?"
said Madame de Ravenelle, carelessly turning her head toward the girl.
But she replied:
"Oh, no! Cédrille is not my betrothed, madame; he loves me very dearly
though, and he has asked me if I would be his wife; but I refused him,
refused him flatly, telling him that I should never have anything but a
sisterly affection for him. Cédrille made the best of it and is content
with that."
"Why did you refuse to marry your cousin? Was it because he has nothing,
and can't do anything?"
"I beg pardon, madame, Cédrille has quite enough to live comfortably;
he's a worthy, honest man--a hard worker, who knows more about
agriculture and plowing than anybody in our neighborhood."
"And in spite of all that, you would not consent to be his wife?"
continued the old lady, fixing her eyes on Miretta, who looked down and
blushed as she faltered:
"No, madame."
"You had some reason for refusing him, doubtless?"
"Mon Dieu! a single one, madame; but it seems to me that it should be
sufficient in such a matter: I have no love for him, and I do not care
to marry without love."
"Ah! very well answered!" cried Valentine, smiling at the girl;
"certainly that reason is quite sufficient! As if a woman ought to marry
a man she does not love! that would be equivalent to deliberately
choosing to be unhappy all her life!"
"Such things have been seen, however, niece! And a woman is not always
unhappy on that account; it often turns out just the other way."
"Well, aunt, I consider that Miretta has done well not to marry her
cousin, as she has no love for him."
"Perhaps you will not always talk so, my dear!"
"Miretta," continued Valentine, turning to the girl, "I take you into my
service, that is settled; and I will give you---- How much should I
give her, aunt?"
"Whatever you please, niece."
"Very well! two hundred livres a year.--Is that enough, Miretta? does
that satisfy you?"
"Oh! that is a great deal, mademoiselle! I probably am not worth so much
as that, and I shall always be satisfied with whatever you give me; I do
not care for money!"
"You don't care for money, you don't care to marry," murmured Madame de
Ravenelle, shaking her head; "nor do you care for your province, since
you leave it--Pray, little one, to what do you aspire?"
Miretta was silent a moment, then replied:
"I aspire to be in the service of honorable persons, and to show myself
deserving of their kindness."
"Well said!" exclaimed Valentine; "that is an answer that does you
honor.--Oh! you will be happy with me, I trust. In the first place, all
the dresses I have ceased to wear will belong to you, and I am very fond
of changing often. But you must serve me promptly, you must always be at
hand when I ring for you, and never step foot outside of the house
unless I send you to do some errand."
The girl raised her head quickly and cried:
"What, mademoiselle! never go out of this house? Why, in that case, I
shall be a prisoner! I shall not be able to take a free step! Oh, no!
no! I did not come to Paris to be deprived of my liberty; I will serve
you faithfully, mademoiselle, I will be submissive to your lightest
word, I will work day and night if you desire; but I wish to be able,
when I feel the need of it, to fly away as freely as the birds of our
fields! I shall return to my cage far happier, when I know that the door
is not closed upon me!"
"Well, well, hothead!" said Valentine, with a smile; "never fear; you
will not be a prisoner! I will not prevent your flying away
sometimes.--Ah! how her eyes sparkle when she hears me say that! She has
a little will of her own, I see. So much the better! I do not like
people who are incapable of having a will!"
"But," interposed Madame de Ravenelle, "as you have just arrived in
Paris, where you know no one; and as your cousin is going away--whom
will you go to see when you go out? or will it be simply to take a
walk?"
"Pardon me, madame, but there is already one person whom I wish to see,
to thank her for the service she rendered my cousin and myself just now.
Ah! madame does not know that we barely escaped a very great danger this
morning--before we reached this house."
"A danger! Pray tell us about it, little one."
"Come here," said Valentine, "and sit on this stool, for your journey on
horseback must have tired you. There! that is right; and now tell us
what happened to you this morning."
Miretta gave them an exact account of what had taken place on Rue
Saint-Jacques; she omitted no detail, nor did she add anything. The
truth was sufficiently interesting to engross the attention of those
who listened to her. Madame de Ravenelle could not help taking an
interest in it, and Valentine was much excited--so much so that she
exclaimed:
"Why, it was shameful behavior on the part of those gentlemen! To try to
compel people who are passing to stop and act as their playthings! Did
you hear the names of those who insulted you?"
"I heard several, mademoiselle, but I remember only two: the gentleman
who took up our defence and fought for us, after offering to be my
knight--in jest, doubtless--his name was Passedix."
"Passedix!--Do you know any gentleman of that name, aunt?"
"No, no one! He must be some _chevalier d'industrie!_"
"Then the man who was so fierce against us, and whose terrible sword
beat down all obstacles--him they called the Sire de Jarnonville. Oh!
that man had a terrifying look!"
"The Sire de Jarnonville!" repeated Madame de Ravenelle. "That is a very
old name--a noble family; but it is a long while since the descendant of
the Jarnonvilles ceased to appear in society--that is to say, in the
society frequented by self-respecting persons."
"And you did not hear any one of those young nobles called Léodgard de
Marvejols?"
"No, mademoiselle, I am quite sure that I did not hear that name."
"What are you worrying about now, niece?"
"I am not worrying at all, aunt; but as it was a gathering of
scapegraces, it seemed to me quite natural that Monsieur Léodgard should
be there.--Miretta, I understand your gratitude for the brave girl
who--I do not quite know how--rescued you from your dangerous position.
You will do well to go to thank her, for ingratitude is the vice of base
minds, and it always indicates the presence of other vices. Go to the
reception room and ask for Béatrix; she will take you to the room that
has been prepared for you; it is not far from mine, and you can hear my
bell there.--But, by the way, this Cédrille, your cousin--what have you
done with him?"
"Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, he stayed below, in the courtyard, with his
horse; I will go and bid him adieu, and he will go away."
"But surely the boy does not mean to start for Béarn at once? He is
probably curious to see a little of Paris, is he not?"
"Yes, mademoiselle, but he will find an inn for himself and Bourriquet.
Oh! Cédrille is not hard to please; he is capable of sleeping in a
stable, with his horse."
"I do not see why your cousin should go elsewhere in search of lodgings;
we have enough unoccupied rooms upstairs, and stables sufficiently
extensive to make it unnecessary for him and his horse to go to an
inn.--This youth may remain here a few days, aunt, may he not? There is
room in the servants' quarters; he may eat with our people, when it
suits his pleasure to stay in the house."
"I have no objection, niece; arrange everything as you choose."
"Oh! madame and mademoiselle are too kind; and Cédrille will come
himself to thank them."
"It is not worth while!" said the old lady; "I excuse him from all
thanks."
"Go, Miretta," said Valentine, "go tell your cousin that we will
accommodate him with my servants; then find Béatrix, who will install
you."
Miretta made several reverences and left the salon.
"That girl pleases me," said Valentine, after watching her leave the
room. "Do not you agree with me, madame, that there is something
original about her--a sort of firmness, and an indefinable naïveté,
which is charming?"
"Yes, yes!" replied Madame de Ravenelle, slowly shaking her head; "but I
believe that there is something in the girl's heart that she has not
told us."
"What can it be, aunt?"
"I have no desire to fatigue my brain trying to guess!"
"Well, I will try, aunt; it will amuse me instead of fatiguing me."
"As you please, niece."
Miretta ran quickly down into the courtyard, and found Cédrille there,
doing sentry duty beside his horse. The poor fellow stood close to
Bourriquet's side, having given him the last wisps of hay from the
bundle attached to his crupper.
The young Béarnais peasant was gazing with respectful admiration at the
sculptures and decorations which embellished the mansion; nothing so
magnificent had met his eye since he had left his fields; for, on
entering Paris, he had been too much occupied in breaking out a path and
guiding his horse through the crowd to have any leisure to look about
him.
Cédrille smiled sadly when he saw the girl coming toward him.
"Ah! I was waiting to see you before going away, Miretta," he said; "and
I am going to say adieu at once, for I wouldn't dare to come to this
splendid palace and ask for you; I feel all dazed here; I don't dare to
walk, for fear of making a noise!"
"And yet, my dear Cédrille, here is where you are to live, as long as
you stay in Paris. They are going to give you a room in this house; my
new mistress will have it so. She has a noble and generous manner, and
this that she is doing for you to-day, cousin, makes me love her
already."
"Ah, ah! is it possible? What do you say, cousin--I am to be lodged
here--I?--Why, it's a palace!"
"No; it's a private mansion."
"Ah! but wait a minute! What about my horse--this poor Bourriquet? I
don't want to leave him, you know."
"You will not have to leave him; Bourriquet will be put in the stable,
and you may be sure that the horses are well taken care of there."
"Do you mean it? Bourriquet will be fed? and what about me?"
"You will be, too, when you happen to be here at the hour when the
household of these ladies dines."
"If this is the way one is treated in Paris, I begin to believe that you
may be happy here, cousin; but, in that case, I must go and thank the
masters of the house for offering to take me in."
"No, no; that is not necessary; there are no masters here, only
mistresses: Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin, in whose service I am
now, and her aunt--an old lady, who does whatever her niece wishes; I
saw that at once."
"Oh! you are shrewd, you are, Miretta! So I needn't go and thank those
ladies?"
"They excuse you. In Paris, you see, everyone is expected to keep in his
own place.--But that reminds me that there is someone whom I must thank;
but she is not a great lady, and I am sure that she will be very glad to
see me."
"Who is it?"
"That fine girl who stationed herself in front of us and defended us,
when we were being insulted. What! have you forgotten already?"
"Oh, no! no! I know whom you mean; and I remember that those young
gentlemen called out to her: 'Stand away from there, Ambroisine; that's
no place for you!'"
"Yes, you are right: her name is Ambroisine. But I must go now to find a
lady who is to show me my room and tell me what I have to do. You are
free, Cédrille; you can go out and see Paris--walk about, amuse
yourself, do whatever you choose."
"But it isn't the same with you, cousin; you're at other people's orders
now; but you would have it, you preferred to come to Paris and go into
service, rather than be your cousin's wife. And yet, you know that you
would always have been the mistress of the house, and that I would have
been your servant!"
"Enough, Cédrille, enough! I thought that it was agreed that you would
not go back to that subject. I told you once for all that I could not be
your wife."
"Yes, that's true; but you didn't tell me why you couldn't be."
"Because it doesn't suit me, apparently; it seems to me that my wish
should be sufficient."
"Oh! of course, if it is because you don't love me. It's true enough
that we can't compel a woman to love us!"
"I love you like a friend, like a brother, Cédrille."
"Well, I'd have been content to be your husband on those terms; and
then, nobody knows, love might have come afterward!--But here you are
looking cross at me, and drawing your eyebrows together.--It's all
over, cousin; I will keep my word and never speak of the subject
again."
"Good! otherwise, I would save you the trouble of saying adieu to
me.--By the way, Cédrille, if you would, you might take me to Rue
Saint-Jacques this evening. I will come out, if I can, at nightfall."
"I should like to, cousin; I will wait for you in the street."
At that moment a middle-aged woman came to Miretta and told her to
follow her.
While the girl, with an _au revoir_ to her companion, returned to the
house, a servant wearing a handsome livery with heavy gold lace
approached the Béarnais peasant and courteously invited him to come to
the servants' quarters and refresh himself.
Cédrille returned with interest all the servant's salutations, and
followed him, crying:
"Jarni! that isn't to be refused, monsieur! I shall be glad to take
something, and I would even eat a bit, with your permission."
"You shall have whatever you may wish," replied the valet, with a smile.
"Well, well!" said Cédrille to himself; "this reconciles me to Paris and
makes me forget this morning's battle."
XIII
THE _LOUP DE MER_ WINE SHOP
Cédrille found a large company in the offices: footmen, coachmen,
lackeys, scullions, and household servants vied with one another in
being kind to the new-comer, who had been commended to them by their
young mistress and was not there as a competitor for her favor; for they
knew that the peasant was to return to his province as soon as he should
have recovered from the fatigues of his journey. That was an additional
reason why they should give him a cordial welcome.
They made the Béarnais relate his adventures; the battle in the street
amused the servants immensely. They drank to Cédrille's courage and his
cousin Miretta's; they drank to their mistresses, and to the peasant's
safe return to his hearth and home.
By dint of drinking toasts in excellent wines, such as he had never
tasted before, Cédrille felt considerably bewildered; and when he left
the table and the house, to take a little walk about Paris, it was all
the Béarnais could do to walk straight. He had not walked a hundred
yards from the house, opening his eyes to their utmost extent and
stopping constantly to straighten out his legs, when he felt an arm
slip through his and heard a voice say to him:
"Sandioux! a happy meeting! I did not expect it, but I rejoice. I will
say more: it causes me extreme pleasure, on my honor!--Why, my dear
friend, you gaze at me with a surprised air, as if you did not recognize
me! Can it be that you have forgotten a gallant knight who defended you
sturdily this morning at a moment when your danger was most
threatening?"
Cédrille, after straining his eyes and examining the long, lean, yellow
man who had seized his arm, cried at last:
"Ah! why, yes, to be sure--your long face--that's so--I have seen it
before; and this morning, when all those fine sparks tried to make me
dismount, it was you who came and took our part--with your long sword,
as long as a turnspit!"
"Ah! this is very fortunate; you recognize me at last, do you, my fine
fellow?--If my sword is long, I trust that that didn't prevent my
handling it rather prettily against your assailants this morning."
"Certainly not, monsieur le chevalier. Oh! you wasn't afraid!"
"Afraid! I! I never could understand how there could be such a thing as
a coward!"
"Yes, yes! now I remember it all. What a pity that that tall black
chevalier knocked your sword out of your hand at the first blow!"
"Sandis! my dear fellow, I will tell you why. Lean on me; you will walk
more firmly."
"Faith! I'd be glad to.--I don't know what's the matter with me
to-night; or, rather, yes--I do know; they made me drink so much at that
house, and such good wine, that it made me a little dizzy; but it will
pass off.--What were you saying?"
"I was saying that I would explain what made Roland slip out of my
hand."
"Jarni! it was the blow the other man--the black one--hit it. He strikes
hard, that fellow does!"
"No, no! cadédis! that wasn't it!--He might have struck ten times as
hard, and I would never have let go Roland, that fiercer assaults than
that have not lowered! But just fancy, my boy---- Lean on me, don't be
afraid; I am firm on my legs.--Just fancy, my worthy Béarnais, that
someone had played me the despicable trick of twisting a strip of pork
around Roland's hilt! So you see, it was just when I brandished it most
vigorously that it slipped from my hand!"
"Well, well! pardi! that was a curious idea; to twist pork round a
sword! But didn't you notice it when you drew your sword from the
sheath?"
"What do you expect?--in the heat of battle, when it is a question of
saving a lovely girl and an excellent youth, one does not amuse one's
self examining one's sword hilt.--However, it's all over, we were
victors, and, thanks to my assistance, you were able to continue your
journey. I trust that you reached the safe harbor for which you were
bound?"
"Yes, seigneur chevalier. Mon Dieu! my cousin is already settled in the
Hôtel de Mongarcin."
"Ah! that charming little brunette whom you had _en croupe_ is your
cousin?"
"To be sure! my mother and I, we are the only relations she has."
"Well! I congratulate you; you have a charming cousin; and, in fact, now
that I look at you--yes, there is a resemblance, at the corners of the
mouth."
"You are the first person who ever thought that I resembled
Miretta.--Ah! jarni! there's holes here. If it hadn't been for you,
monsieur le chevalier, I believe I should have fallen full length in the
street."
"You must have turned your foot."
"Yes; and then, my head is in the same fix."
"Hold fast to me; don't be afraid to lean on me. I am made of iron, of
steel."
"For my part, I feel as if my legs were made of cotton; it's because
I've had so much to drink. Oh! what famous wines! How polite those
liveried servants are! they kept filling my glass for me.--Ha! hold me
up!"
"They filled you, finally. So it was the servants at the Hôtel de
Mongarcin who treated you so well?"
"To be sure.--By the way, did I tell you that I came to Paris to bring
Miretta to Mademoiselle de Mongarcin?"
"You must have told me, as I know it."
"To be sure, that's so; as you know it, I must have told you.--Bah!
there's another hole; and then, I don't know whether it's because I am
dizzy, but it seems to me that I can't see very plain."
"Oh! that is no mistake; it is growing dark. Look you, it is after
half-past seven. Where were you going, my worthy man, my dear fellow,
when I met you?--Sandis! I know your name, but it doesn't come to my
lips."
"Cédrille, at your service."
"Cédrille--that's it.--Whither were you bending your steps, my good
Cédrille?"
"I--mon Dieu! I don't know; you see, Monsieur le Chevalier--what d'ye
call it--what _is_ your name?"
"Castor Pyrrhus de Passedix."
"Oh! those names are pretty hard to remember. Must I say them all?"
"No! call me Passedix; that will be enough."
"Ah! good! Passe--six."
"No, no! deuce take it! Passedix, not _six!_ You cut me down four
points!"
"That makes no difference! Well, monsieur le chevalier, I came away from
the house because I felt as if I needed the fresh air--and then, to see
a little of Paris, which I don't know at all."
"In that case, my friend Cédrille--will you allow me to call you my
friend? When two people have met on the field of battle, it seems to me
that that brings them together at once. Brave men understand each other
at a glance."
"You are very polite! It's a great honor to me, Chevalier
Passe--Passe----"
"Dix.--Well, to return to our subject, if you will permit me, dear
friend, I will be your pilot, your guide, this evening. But I shall not
be able to show you what Paris contains in the way of beautiful and
interesting churches, palaces, squares, and promenades, for the reason
that it is dark, and, none of those lovely things being lighted, you
would see nothing and your steps would be wasted."
"Then you can't take me anywhere to-night? The deuce! that's a pity, for
I feel just in the mood to enjoy myself. I don't want to go home to bed
already, for I am not in the least sleepy."
Passedix, who had had nothing to eat during the day except the two eggs
he had swallowed so rapidly before his landlady's eyes, passed his hand
across his forehead and, after pretending to reflect a moment, cried:
"Yes, yes, cadédis! we will enjoy ourselves this evening. If we go along
Rue Saint-Honoré, we shall find, just before we reach the Couvent des
Capucines, a certain wine shop, the resort of lusty blades, good fellows
like you and me; the curfew has not rung yet, so it will still be open;
and even if the doors were closed, the habitués always have a way of
gaining admission. Moreover, the keeper of the Loup de Mer--that is the
name of the place--is an old soldier, an ex-trooper, who has friends in
the watch--and they allow him to keep his guests later; indeed, I know
some who pass the whole night there. Forward, my good friend, and let us
betake ourselves to the Loup de Mer!"
"All right; I will go I don't care where to-night, provided that we have
some sport."
"But I tell you that this wine shop is frequented by all the jovial
blades and lovers of the sex in Paris. And then, it has a famous name
for omelets _au lard_; they are excellent there. I once ate a dozen at a
sitting; it was a wager, and I won it in a trice."
"Ah! they make omelets _au lard_, do they?" muttered the Béarnais
peasant, shaking his head; "what a pity that I ain't hungry! But I ate
so much at the house that I couldn't eat a mouthful, on my word! I would
much rather see something besides omelets."
"If you are not hungry, you must be thirsty; good fellows are always
thirsty."
"Oh! as for drinking, why, I'll drink some more, although I have had a
good deal now."
"That doesn't matter; you will drink, and I will eat and drink with you;
we will play cards, we will sing, we will pass a delightful
evening.--Lean upon me--steady now, and forward!"
Cédrille suffered himself to be led away, and, his companion almost
carrying him, they soon reached the Loup de Mer.
It would have been useless in those days to seek in taverns the blaze of
light which dazzles our eyes to-day when we enter a café; a smoky lamp
or two lighted but dimly the room and the drinkers; but the latter,
being accustomed to nothing better, found the place where they assembled
very much to their liking, so there was always a numerous company at the
Loup de Mer; it was not so select as the Chevalier Passedix had tried to
persuade Cédrille; but, by way of compensation, it was very hilarious
and animated, and, above all, exceedingly noisy.
Almost all the tables were occupied, and covered with pewter pots and
goblets; they were not so pretty to look at as our bottles and glasses,
but they were less fragile.
Not without difficulty did Passedix succeed in finding an unoccupied end
of a table and in obtaining two stools. Although an habitué of the
place, the chevalier did not seem to be greeted with great cordiality,
and the first words of the waiter to whom he applied were:
"There's no more room, monsieur le chevalier; it isn't worth while for
you to come in."
But the Gascon, pushing aside the waiter, who was standing in front of
him, glared savagely around the room and cried:
"Ah! there's no room, eh?--Capédébious! we will see about that! There
must always be room for me and my friends! and, at need, Roland will
find a way to make room!"
"Let Monsieur de Passedix come in," said a woman of uncertain age, who
sat at the desk; and she added, with a slight shrug of her shoulders:
"if you don't, you know that he will make a scene, pick a quarrel with
someone, and end by bringing the watch here."
"Well! I only said what the master ordered me to say," muttered the
waiter, sulkily.