IX
A COALITION
We will pass rapidly over the years following that during which Monsieur
Gérondif became the young marquis’s tutor. Chérubin had kept his word;
he had consented to study, but he had insisted on Louise’s presence
during his lessons; at first, Monsieur Gérondif had tried to keep the
little girl from the room, but Chérubin had shrieked and wept and
refused to listen to his tutor; so that it was found necessary to yield
to him. By slow degrees Louise’s presence had evidently come to seem
less inconvenient to Monsieur Gérondif, for if she were not there when
he arrived, he was the first to send for her.
The fact is that Louise had grown too, and that she had improved even
more rapidly. At thirteen, she seemed at least fifteen; she was slender,
well-built, and possessed of many graces; not studied and affected ones
such as so many young ladies in Paris assume, thinking that they will be
deemed natural; but those naïve, simple graces which one recognizes
instantly but vainly tries to imitate.
Monsieur Gérondif was not a genuine scholar, but he might have passed
for such in the eyes of many people. He had tried everything, having in
his youth essayed a number of professions, but having fixed upon none;
after making a pretence of becoming a doctor, a druggist, a chemist, an
astronomer, a geometrician, a tradesman, and even a poet; after
stuffing his head with the first rudiments of many forms of knowledge
and succeeding in none, he had ended by turning schoolmaster. The man
who knows one branch thoroughly has much more merit than he who talks
glibly about all branches, and yet, in the world, the preference is
often given to the latter.
At fifteen, Chérubin knew a little of a great many things; in the eyes
of the village, in the eyes of the Frimoussets, the young man was a
phenomenon who had learned with extraordinary ease. As for Jasmin, he
opened his eyes in amazement when he heard his young master use a Latin
word, or mention some historical or mythological fact, and he bowed
before Monsieur Gérondif, exclaiming:
“He knows as much as you, and that is a great deal to say.”
Monsieur Gérondif puffed himself out, for he had purchased an entirely
new costume; he no longer resembled a harlequin, and he was seen now
with a hat and a real umbrella.
But with well-being ambition had come; that is usually the case. When a
man has nothing, he becomes accustomed to forming no wishes, to not
looking above himself; he remains in his shell and tries to be happy
there forever; he even succeeds sometimes. But when he becomes
well-to-do, then he indulges in a multitude of little luxuries hitherto
unknown; but they are no longer enough; every day he desires others,
forms a thousand new aspirations, becomes ambitious, in short; and it
often happens that he is less contented than when he possessed nothing.
Such was substantially Monsieur Gérondif’s story; when he had nothing to
live upon but the paltry profits of his school, he wore clogs, went
without hat or cap, very often dined upon nothing but potatoes baked in
the oven, and yet seemed perfectly contented with his position.
Since he had become young Grandvilain’s tutor and was earning eighteen
hundred francs a year, a sum which it is rather difficult to spend in
the village of Gagny, the schoolmaster had formed new desires; and first
of all he hoped not to remain forever in a village where he could not
even find means to spend his money, a state of affairs which is very
annoying to one who has not been accustomed to having money to spend.
Monsieur Gérondif had been shrewd enough to obtain his pupil’s
confidence, and even to inspire affection in him; for Chérubin’s heart
was easily won; he flew to meet all those who showed the slightest
attachment to him. While enjoining virtue and good morals upon the young
man every day, Monsieur Gérondif, whose eyesight was very good although
he constantly kept his eyes lowered, had perceived that Louise was
growing, developing, and becoming a charming girl; and more than once,
as he looked at the sweet child, he had thought:
“What lovely eyes! What an exquisite oval face! What a correct chin!”
And then, whether to make sure that Louise’s chin was in fact correct,
or for some other reason, the tutor would pass his hand over the young
girl’s face, and sometimes go so far as gently to pinch her cheek, which
did not amuse Louise at all; whereas Chérubin, on the contrary, was very
glad to hear a complimentary remark addressed to his faithful companion.
“Isn’t Louise lovely, my dear master?” he would say at such times.
And Monsieur Gérondif would hasten to assume a sanctimonious air, and
would reply, lowering his eyes:
“Yes, this girl has the type of Jael in all its beauty; she seems to me
to have the very appearance of a Madonna.”
Thereupon Chérubin would smile again, as he glanced at Louise, and
Monsieur Gérondif, thinking of something very different from madonnas,
would say to himself:
“This girl will be perfectly bewitching! but if my pupil remains much
longer with her--hum! The flesh is weak, the devil is very powerful,
especially when he takes the face of a pretty girl. I am not always
here; Jacquinot is almost always drunk, and Mère Nicole allows these
children to run about together in the fields, looking for flowers among
the grain, playing together in the grass,--all very hazardous
amusements. I absolutely must look to all this. The best way would be to
induce my pupil to return to Paris. I should go with him, there is not
the slightest doubt, for his education is not yet complete enough for
him to do without a tutor. I shall take care that he needs one for a
long time yet, forever, if possible. I shall live in my pupil’s mansion
at Paris. That will be infinitely pleasanter than to live in this
village; and then I can continue to keep an eye on little Louise at a
distance; I will protect her, I will push her on in the world. As for
Chérubin, after a few months in Paris, he will have forgotten his little
friend of the fields.--All this is reasoned out with the wisdom of Cato,
and it only remains to put it into execution.”
And to attain his object, Monsieur Gérondif for some time past had not
failed to talk constantly of Paris while giving Chérubin his lessons; he
drew a fascinating, enchanting picture of that city; he praised its
theatres, its promenades, its monuments, and the innumerable pleasures
which one finds there at every step.
Young Chérubin was beginning to listen to these observations. The idea
of going to Paris terrified him less; and his tutor would say:
“At least, come and spend a little time in the capital, to see your
mansion, the house of your fathers, it is all so close at hand, and we
will come back at once.”
But Louise always wept when she saw that Chérubin was on the point of
consenting to go to Paris; she would take her playmate’s hand and
exclaim:
“If you go to Paris, I am very sure that you won’t come back here again;
you’ll forget Gagny and those who live here.”
Nicole said the same, as she lovingly embraced her foster-child,
whereupon Chérubin would instantly cry out:
“No, no, I won’t go, since it makes you feel sad; I am happy here, and I
shall always stay here.”
At that, Monsieur Gérondif would bite his lips, trying to smile; but in
the depths of his heart, he consigned nurses and childhood friends to
the devil.
As for Jasmin, when the professor reproached him for not seconding him
and urging his young master to go to Paris, he would reply, with that
air of good humor which was natural to him:
“What do you expect me to do about it? My dear monsieur le marquis has
passed his fifteenth birthday; he is his own master; he can do whatever
he chooses; he can even dispose of his whole fortune, thirty thousand
francs a year. But if it’s his choice to remain with his nurse, I have
no right to oppose him.”
“When a man has such a handsome fortune as that, it’s perfectly
ridiculous for him to pass his best years out at nurse!” cried the
tutor; “and then what good does it do my pupil to become learned, to
learn so many useful things, if he continues to live with peasants?
Monsieur Jasmin, history offers no example of remarkable men who have
remained at nurse until they were fifteen. It is all very well to love
the woman who reared us, but _est medius in rebus_.”
“Monsieur le professeur, I am not good at guessing rebuses; but I am my
master’s very humble servant, and I have no right to give him orders.”
At Paris, too, Jasmin had frequent discussions with Mademoiselle
Turlurette on the subject of his young master. The former lady’s maid
had become housekeeper; she had grown so stout, although she was not yet
forty, that it was very difficult for her to walk from one room to
another; that state of corpulence nailed her to her chair, and prevented
her from going to see her young master at Gagny. And Jasmin was not at
all anxious to take her with him, because he always feared that
Mademoiselle Turlurette would usurp a part of his authority, which he
did not propose to stand. The bulky housekeeper asked the old servant
every day why their young master did not leave his nurse; and sometimes
sharp quarrels arose between them on that subject; but Jasmin always put
an end to them by saying in a morose tone:
“Mademoiselle, after all, I am the one that the late Monsieur le Marquis
de Grandvilain intrusted with the care of his son; in fact, I have the
right to turn you out of the house if I choose; so be kind enough to
allow me to guide young Chérubin as I please.”
Thereupon Turlurette held her peace, although she knew perfectly well
that Jasmin was not capable of discharging her.
“A foster-child of sixteen years!” she would mutter between her teeth;
“that’s a funny thing!”
Things were at this point when a servant appeared at the hôtel de
Grandvilain one morning, asked for Jasmin, and told him that the late
monsieur le marquis’s notary desired him to call at his office during
the day, because it was very important that he should speak with him.
The old valet wondered what the notary could have to say to him; then he
remembered that his young master had long since passed his fifteenth
birthday, and that that was the time that his father had desired that he
should be put in possession of his fortune. All this worried Jasmin, who
said to himself:
“Thirty thousand francs a year, to say nothing of the additions due to
the savings that I have made in fourteen years! It is a fact that it
would be a pity to waste that at his foster-father’s. But still, if
Monsieur Chérubin insists on staying with Nicole, I can’t use violence
to compel him to return to Paris, for after all, he is his own master.”
Jasmin decided to comply with the notary’s wish. He put on his best
coat, pulled a bit of his ruff out beneath his waistcoat, donned his
silver buckled shoes, although they had long since ceased to be in
style, and in that garb, worthy of the confidential valet of a great
family, he betook himself to the office of Monsieur d’Hurbain, the
notary.
When Jasmin appeared at the office, the notary was not alone; two
persons were with him.
One of them, by name Edouard de Monfréville, was a man apparently
thirty-six or thirty-seven years of age, who still had the bearing, the
manners and all the dandified aspect of a young man. He was tall,
well-built, as slender as if he were but twenty, and wore with much
grace the costume of a young exquisite. His face was handsome and
attractive at the same time; his features were regular, and his brown
hair of a fineness and gloss which a lady might have envied; but in his
great eyes, which were black and piercing, one could read sometimes a
mocking expression which harmonized perfectly with the faint smile that
played about his mouth; and upon his brow, which like his face bore
signs of weariness, there were lines which indicated that ennui and
grief had passed that way.
The other person was a man of twenty-eight, a faded blond, with a very
fair complexion, light-blue eyes, a nose with dilated nostrils, and a
large mouth with thick lips. That assemblage of features did not make
what could be called a handsome man; but his face exhibited a constant
succession of expressions which enlivened it wonderfully; it was a
combination of gayety, raillery, cunning, libertinage, indifference, and
shrewdness, all accompanied by most distinguished manners; and although
his costume was a long way from the elegance of Monsieur de
Monfréville’s, and although, in fact, certain parts of his dress were
too much neglected, he wore his soiled and shabby coat with so much ease
of manner, he held his head so straight in his faded cravat, that it was
impossible not to recognize in him a man of birth. His name was Comte
Virgile Daréna.
When a clerk entered the private office and announced that old Jasmin
had obeyed the summons that he had received, Daréna burst out laughing.
“Jasmin!” he said; “who in the devil can have such a name as Jasmin? Can
it be, my dear notary, that you have clients named Jasmin? Why, that
name is only fit for a stage servant!”
“No, Monsieur Daréna,” replied the notary, with a smile, “this man is a
servant in a most excellent family; he is one of that race of old
retainers such as we used to see; unfortunately the race is almost
extinct in our day.”
“Ah! he must be an amusing character; an old groom, eh, Monfréville?”
The person to whom this question was addressed barely smiled as he
replied:
“I don’t see what there is so amusing in all this!”
“Oh! nothing amuses you when you are in one of your _days of humor_, as
the English say.--Well, tell me, will you buy my little house in
Faubourg Saint-Antoine? I will sell it to you for thirty thousand
francs.”
“No, I should blush to accept such an offer. Your house is worth nearly
twice that, and I do not care to take advantage of your need of money to
buy it at a low price.”
“Oh! mon Dieu! that isn’t the question at all! If the bargain is
satisfactory to me, why shouldn’t you take advantage of it? I make you
the offer before a notary, and it seems to me that your conscience
should be tranquil. I don’t like the house; it is occupied by water
carriers, Savoyards, the commonest of the common people! What the devil
do you suppose I can do with it? They move without paying, or else they
stay and don’t pay; they insult whoever goes to ask them for money, or
they threaten to beat you! Such tenants are delightful!”
“But you have a principal tenant who looks after all those details.”
“No, no, I tell you that I want to sell, that is the quickest way out of
it; it’s too much of a nuisance to me! And then, there’s another
inconvenience: if I have among my tenants a pretty grisette or two, or a
pretty face, why, you understand--I give them a receipt after
obtaining, not their money, but something else. Upon my honor, I am not
fitted for a landlord, my heart is too susceptible!”
“You are arranging your affairs in such a way that you won’t be a
landlord much longer,” said the notary, shaking his head, “you are not
reasonable, Monsieur Daréna. Only six years ago your father left you a
very pretty fortune!”
“Of which I have nothing left but the little house that I want to sell,”
said Daréna, laughingly. “Well, that is the fate of all fortunes; they
vanish, but one constructs another! I am never disturbed, for my
part!--Well, Monfréville won’t take my house, and so Monsieur d’Hurbain
must sell it for me. But pray admit your old Jasmin! I am curious to see
this fossil!”
“In whose service is this model retainer?” asked Monfréville.
“He was in the service of Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain, who died
ten or eleven years ago.”
“The Marquis de Grandvilain!” cried Daréna, throwing himself into a
chair and laughing until the tears came. “What delicious names they
have!”
“Grandvilain!” muttered Monfréville, “why, I knew the old marquis; my
father was a friend of his. He used often to speak of a party at his
house, of a display of fireworks to celebrate the birth of a son; of a
frying-pan that was thrown into the air, and of saucepan covers that
wounded several people.”
“Nonsense! nonsense! it is impossible! Monfréville is making fun of us!”
said Daréna, stretching himself out in his chair.
“It is all true,” replied the notary; “what Monsieur de Monfréville says
really happened. But the Marquis de Grandvilain is dead, and so is his
wife; nobody is left now of the old family except a son, who is sixteen
years and a half old, and who already has more than thirty thousand
francs a year; I manage his property. But his father, obeying a whim, a
most incredible piece of folly, provided that at fifteen years his son
was to have control of his whole fortune, and he left him no guardian
except old Jasmin, his valet de chambre.”
Daréna straightened up in his chair and assumed a singular expression,
as he exclaimed:
“Thirty thousand francs a year at fifteen! That deserves consideration.”
“Was the poor old marquis mad?” asked Monfréville.
“No, but he was very old when the child was born, and he wished him to
be his own master early in life.”
“Pardi! that doesn’t strike me as so foolish, after all!” said Daréna.
“In fact, why shouldn’t one be reasonable at fifteen, when one is so far
from it at sixty? But how does the heir manage his fortune? He is
consuming it doubtless in cakes and _marrons glacés?_”
“Thank heaven, so far as I know, he has given his time thus far only to
his rhetoric and the humanities. But it was with a view to learning
something about him that I sent for the faithful Jasmin. With your
permission I will have him come in.”
“We beg that you will do so. For my part, I am very curious to know how
this little Grandvilain behaves himself. Oh! what a devil of a name! But
no matter, I would gladly change with him now, if he would throw in his
father’s coin with the name.--What do you say, Monfréville? Oh! you are
a philosopher; and besides, you are rich, which makes philosophy come
very easy.”
Jasmin’s arrival put an end to this conversation. The old servant bowed
low to all the company, then said to the notary:
“Has monsieur any questions to ask me?”
“Yes, my dear Jasmin. I want first of all to hear about our young
marquis.”
“He’s very well, monsieur; he is in excellent health, and he’s a very
fine-looking boy.”
“That is well; and his studies?”
“Well! so far as I can learn, monsieur, he seems to be a great scholar.”
“Do you know, Jasmin, that your young master was sixteen more than six
months ago?”
“Oh yes, monsieur, I know it very well.”
“Does he know the terms of his father’s will?”
“Why, yes, monsieur.”
“I fancy that he is too sensible to think of entering into possession of
his property yet; but for all that, it is my duty to go to him and
render an account of my administration of it, and to ask him if it is
his intention that I should continue to handle it. Moreover, I have long
desired to see the young marquis, and I do not propose to postpone that
pleasure any longer. At what college is he?”
Jasmin opened his eyes in dismay and looked toward the door.
“Don’t you hear me?” continued the notary. “I ask you to what college I
must go to find Monsieur Chérubin de Grandvilain?”
“The model valet seems to me as if he were deaf,” said Daréna, laughing
at Jasmin’s expression; while Monsieur de Monfréville, who had been
scrutinizing the old servant closely, walked toward him and fastening
his eyes upon him, said in a half-serious, half-mocking tone:
“Do you mean that you don’t know what you have done with your young
master?”
“Yes, yes!” replied Jasmin; “monsieur le marquis is at Gagny.”
“At Gagny! Is there a college there?” demanded the notary.
“Gagny, near Villemonble. Oh! I know that place,” said Daréna; “it’s a
small village; there are some fine estates in the neighborhood, but not
a restaurant in the whole region. I went there with two dancers from the
Opéra, and we could not even obtain a rabbit stew, the inevitable dish
in the country. But there never was a college at Gagny; I don’t even
know of a boarding-school there.”
“Tell us, Monsieur Jasmin,” said the notary in a stern tone, “where is
young Grandvilain staying at Gagny?”
The old servant made up his mind and replied with an almost proud air:
“At his nurse’s, monsieur.”
At those words the notary was speechless, Monfréville began to laugh,
and Daréna rolled about in his chair.
“At his nurse’s!” repeated the notary at last. “Is it possible, Jasmin,
that the young marquis is still at his nurse’s, at sixteen years and a
half?”
“Yes, monsieur; but never fear, he is none the less well educated; I
found a teacher for him, the village schoolmaster, Monsieur Gérondif,
who teaches him all that it is possible to teach.”
Daréna roared with laughter anew, when he heard the name of the tutor.
“Educated at his nurse’s!” he cried; “that is delicious; it’s a new
method, and perhaps it will become fashionable. I am tempted to return
to my nurse myself.”
“Monsieur Jasmin,” said the notary, “I cannot understand how you can
have left your master’s son with peasants up to this time. I consider
you very reprehensible; you should at least have consulted me.”
The old servant, who was sorely vexed, began to shout at the top of his
lungs:
“Monsieur, I am my master’s servant! I am not the man to thwart him and
to use force upon him, and it is not my fault if Monsieur Chérubin does
not want to leave Nicole, his nurse, and his little foster-sister.”
“Aha! so there’s a little foster-sister, is there? I begin to understand
the young man’s obstinacy,” said Daréna; “and how old might the
foster-sister be?”
“Two years younger than my young master,--about fourteen and a half.”
“And is she pretty?”
“Why, yes, monsieur, she’s a fine slip of a girl.”
“Monsieur Jasmin,” continued the notary, “things cannot go on like this;
it is my duty to straighten out this affair; my friendship for the late
Monsieur de Grandvilain imposes that duty upon me, and you too must
understand that a child of a good family, the son of your former master,
ought not to pass his best years in a village.”
“I assure you, monsieur le notaire, that I tell my master so very often.
I say to him: ‘You have a house at Paris, a beautiful apartment with
crimson hangings, solid mahogany furniture, a night table with carved
corners, and the inside of gilded porcelain.’ But all that doesn’t tempt
him. He turns his back on me and won’t listen.”
“I should think not!” cried Daréna; “the idea of the old fool expecting
to tempt his master with a night table and all its accessories! If you
wish, Monsieur d’Hurbain, I will undertake to persuade the young marquis
to return to Paris.”
“You, Monsieur Daréna; by what means, pray?”
“That’s my business. Will you trust me?”
“I shall be very much obliged to you if you will assist me, but I
propose to act for myself also. Monsieur de Monfréville, will not you
lend us your assistance too? Won’t you go to Gagny with me, as your
father was a friend of the old marquis?”
“I am very much inclined to join you. Indeed, I am already trying to
think how we can induce the young man to come back with us; for after
all, this is not a case for resorting to violence. The young man is his
own master, by his father’s express desire; and if he should persist in
remaining at his nurse’s, we should be obliged to leave him there.”
“But it is impossible that the marquis should not give way to our
arguments, to our entreaties.”
“Arguments! ah! my dear Monsieur d’Hurbain, I fancy that we shall need
something stronger than arguments to captivate a boy.”
“Messieurs,” cried Daréna, “I suggest a wager. A magnificent dinner at
the Rocher de Cancale, to be given by two of us to the one who triumphs
and who brings young Chérubin to Paris. Is it a bargain?”
“With all our hearts.”
“When do we start for Gagny?”
“I will arrange to leave my office at noon to-morrow, messieurs. Will
you call for me? Shall I expect you?”
“No,” said Monfréville, “let us go each on his own account; we shall be
able to find this nurse’s house.”
“Nicole Frimousset,” said Jasmin; “a narrow street leading into the
square. Anyone will point out her house.”
“Very well,” said Daréna; “Nicole Frimousset; the names are engraved on
my memory. Monfréville is right, it is better for us to go each on his
own hook.”
“But take care, messieurs,” said the notary; “if you delay, you may make
the journey for nothing, and I shall already have started for Paris with
Chérubin.”
“Oh! I don’t think so,” said Monfréville.
“As for me, messieurs, I am a bold player,” said Daréna, “and I will
give you the start. I will not leave Paris until a full hour after you,
and even so I am sure that I shall arrive in time.”
Jasmin, who was bewildered and somewhat alarmed by all that he heard,
exclaimed with an air of dismay:
“I say, messieurs, I hope that you won’t do my young master any injury
in all this; I mean, I hope that you won’t make him unhappy?”
“Ha! ha! ha! this old fellow is enchanting with his innocence!” said
Daréna.--”Never fear, venerable retainer! We shall employ only pleasant
methods! As for you, all there is for you to do is to find a way to get
Monsieur Chérubin’s little foster-sister out of the way to-morrow
morning. That is indispensable for the success of our excursion.”
“You hear, Jasmin?” said the notary. “Remember that the happiness, the
future of your young master is at stake, and that you will be very
blameworthy if you do not try to help us.”
The old servant bowed and went out, saying that he would obey.
Monfréville and Daréna also left the notary’s, saying to each other:
“Until to-morrow, at Gagny.”
X
THE ARMS OF ACHILLES
Jasmin returned to the house utterly upset; the old servant did not know
whether he ought to rejoice or to grieve; he would be very glad to see
his master at Paris, so that he might be always with him, and serve him
as he had served the old marquis; but he was afraid that that would
grieve the youth whom he called his dear child; and he was also afraid
that life in Paris would not be so good for Chérubin’s health as life in
the village.
While making these reflections, he summoned all the servants in the
house. It will be remembered that Jasmin had kept all those who had been
in the employ of his former master, and that is why Chérubin’s household
consisted entirely of mature persons. The cook had passed his sixtieth
year; the coachman was approaching his sixty-fifth; there was a little
jockey of fifty; and Mademoiselle Turlurette, who was a child compared
with all the rest, was in her thirty-seventh year, none the less.
“My children,” said Jasmin to the servants, “I think it my duty to
inform you that our young master will come among us to-morrow.”
“To-morrow!” cried Turlurette, with a joyful exclamation; “is that
certain?”
“It is very certain--perhaps. However, arrange everything so that
Monsieur Chérubin will be pleased; see that everything is rubbed and
polished with more care than ever. Cook, prepare a dainty dinner.
Coachman, let the carriage and horses be ready, in case he should want
to use them. Have flowers placed in the hall, as on the days when my
late master gave a ball.”
“Are we going to have a display of fireworks?” asked Turlurette in a
quizzical tone.
“No, mademoiselle, no, I have had enough of fireworks!” replied Jasmin,
passing his hand over his face; “and unless Monsieur Chérubin orders,
not even a rocket will ever be fired in this courtyard again. But still,
we must see that it is very lively here. By the way, we will have some
music--three organ grinders, and as many violin players, who will be
stationed in the courtyard; they must play their best pieces when our
young master enters the house; that cannot fail to be agreeable to him.”
“Do you want singers too?” asked the old jockey.
“Well! if you can find any singers, men or women, it seems to me that
they will not do any harm. You understand, all this for the afternoon.”
The next morning, Jasmin started early for Gagny, where he arrived about
ten o’clock. First of all, he asked for Chérubin, and Nicole informed
him that he had gone to walk with Louise toward Maison Rouge. The old
servant was about to go in search of the young people when he met
Monsieur Gérondif in the square, and hastened to inform him as to what
was to happen during the day.
The professor clapped his hands, tossed his new hat in the air, and
seemed inclined to cut a caper.
_“Tandem! Denique! Ultima cumæi venit jam carminis ætas! Jam nova
progenies cœlo demittitur alto!_”
“Why no, that isn’t it,” replied Jasmin; “I tell you that the notary and
two of his friends are coming.”
“Very good! perfect! more than perfect! We must now find my pupil at
once.”
“I was going to look for him; he is walking with little Louise in the
direction of Maison Rouge.”
“With little Louise, who is already large. How imprudent it is! It is
high time to separate the man from the serpent!”
“Did you see a serpent?”
“The serpent, my dear Jasmin, is woman, the apple, sin! You don’t seem
to understand; I will explain it to you some other day, but now we must
find the child at once.”
“Especially as those gentlemen requested me to send the little girl away
this morning, while they were talking to my master.”
“You see, those gentlemen think as I do; they understand that this
little girl is now a dangerous companion, most certainly. We will get
her out of the way, virtuous Jasmin, we will find a pretext, a
subterfuge. Come, take my arm and let us run.”
“Run! the devil! that’s very easy to say! However, I’ll try.”
“Men run at all ages, worthy Jasmin, and you were built for a runner.”
As he spoke, the professor took the old servant’s arm and hurried him
away in the direction where they hoped to find Chérubin. As they walked
rapidly along, Jasmin asked Monsieur Gérondif:
“Have you thought of any excuse for sending the girl away?”
“No; have you?”
“No, I have not.”
“Let us go on, that will come in due time.”
That rapid march lasted for three-quarters of an hour. Jasmin could hold
out no longer, he was entirely out of breath. But the professor still
pulled him along, saying:
“_Macte puer! macte animo!_ Our dear Chérubin’s happiness is at stake.
Look out, excellent Jasmin, you are stumbling; you are putting your feet
in the ruts, in pools of water!”
The excellent Jasmin’s breath was exhausted, and he decided to fall in
the middle of the road.
“I can’t go any farther,” he stammered; “I must get my breath.”
But at that moment Monsieur Gérondif glanced at a clump of trees a short
distance from the road and exclaimed:
“There they are! the little girl is eating apricots; she offers one to
my pupil, who stands lost in admiration before his apricot! It is time
that we arrived.”
Chérubin had gone out early with Louise that morning; they had taken a
basket containing bread and fruit, and looked forward to eating their
luncheon in the woods; that frugal collation seemed most delicious to
them. And, in sooth, what more could they desire? they were together,
and they loved each other; that is the most enjoyable repast to which
one brings a contented heart.
The relations between Louise and Chérubin at this time were so pleasant,
so pure, that they were happy to be together and aspired to no other
happiness. It may be, however, that young Louise’s affection was more
eager, more expansive, because there was already a tinge of sadness in
it. She was afraid that Chérubin would decide to go to Paris; she was
afraid that she was going to lose her friend; and that fear made her
love him even more, for our affections are strengthened by the sorrows
that they cause us.
The two young people were greatly surprised when the professor and
Jasmin suddenly appeared in the midst of their open-air repast.
“We were looking for you, attractive youths,” said Monsieur Gérondif;
“we were perturbed in spirit. The adventure of Pyramus and Thisbe has
been running in my head; I have mistaken every dog I met for a lioness.
I am well aware that my pupil has no inclination to fly, like the young
Assyrian, with any Thisbe; but anyone may make a false step.”
“Tell me, why did you come to look for us?” said Chérubin; “I have time
enough to study, I should think. I know enough already. Is anyone sick?
Has anything happened, that Jasmin comes with you?”
Monsieur Gérondif seemed struck by a sudden thought; he glanced at
Jasmin and said:
“In truth, my noble pupil, there has been an accident--not at all
serious, I trust. Your nurse’s oldest son has hurt himself; he is at
Montfermeil--he has written; and Nicole would like to have Louise go to
him at once; she will come too very soon.”
“We’ll go with Louise,” said Chérubin.
“No, we had better go back to poor Nicole, who is in grief--she doesn’t
know where to go for a doctor. Louise can go to Montfermeil alone; you
can see the first houses from here.”
“Oh, yes! yes! I will be there in a few minutes,” said Louise; “but
where is dear mother Nicole’s son?”
“At Madame Patineau’s, on the main street. Here, here is her address,
and a line for her.”
Monsieur Gérondif scrawled a few words in pencil, wherein he requested
the lady to whom he was sending the girl to keep her at her house, and
not to let her go until she was sent for. The girl took the note, bade
Chérubin adieu and ran off toward Montfermeil. The professor rubbed his
hands and glanced at Jasmin, who said to himself:
“I should never have thought of that.”
They returned to Gagny; as they approached the square, they saw a
carriage stop and a gentleman alight: it was Monsieur d’Hurbain, the
notary.
“Here’s a visitor for you,” said Jasmin to his master. “This gentleman
is your notary, in whose care your venerable father placed his
testament.”
“And it was to prevent your attention being distracted so that you might
receive some gentlemen who are coming from Paris to see you, that we
sent little Louise to Montfermeil,” said Gérondif with a smile.
“What? the accident to Nicole’s son----”
“Was all a joke.”
Before Chérubin had time to reply, Monsieur d’Hurbain came up and bowed
low to him. The notary’s solemn manner made an impression on the young
man, who faltered a few words in reply to the flattering remarks that
were addressed to him. They walked toward the nurse’s house, and for the
first time Chérubin had a feeling of something like shame when the
notary said:
“What, monsieur le marquis, is this where you are studying? You are
sixteen and a half years old, you belong to a noble family, you have a
handsome fortune, and you pass your life beneath the roof of these
village folk! I honor the laboring man, I esteem all honest persons, but
everyone should keep to his own rank, monsieur le marquis, otherwise
society would fall into confusion and anarchy; and there would no longer
be that desire to rise, to succeed, which, by implanting in men’s hearts
a praiseworthy ambition, makes them capable of noble efforts to attain
the end at which they are eager to arrive.”
“Bravo! _recte dicis!_” cried Monsieur Gérondif, smiling at the notary;
“monsieur talks now as I used to talk.”
Chérubin blushed and did not know what to reply. Monsieur d’Hurbain
continued his efforts to make the young man listen to reason, displaying
the utmost amiability and suavity in his arguments. He was careful,
however, to dwell on the marquis’s rank and wealth, and he always ended
with these words:
“You agree with me now, do you not, and you are coming back to Paris
with me?”
But Chérubin, although he seemed to listen with great deference to the
notary’s speeches, replied in a very mild tone:
“No, monsieur, I prefer to stay here.”
“It certainly isn’t my fault!” cried Monsieur Gérondif, raising his eyes
heavenward. “Every day I say to my pupil the same things that you have
said, monsieur; but I reinforce them by example from history, ancient
and modern; it’s as if I were teaching a blind man to draw!”
Monsieur d’Hurbain was beginning to doubt the success of his visit, when
they heard a horse’s footsteps. They ran to the door to see what it was,
and discovered a very stylishly dressed gentleman in a dainty tilbury,
accompanied by his groom only.
It was Edouard de Monfréville, who was driving himself. He stopped,
jumped lightly to the ground and approached the party, bowing
courteously to Chérubin, to whom the notary said:
“Allow me to introduce the son of one of your father’s old friends,
Monsieur de Monfréville, who has come to add his entreaties to mine, to
induce you to go to Paris.”
Monfréville took Chérubin’s hand and pressed it; and after scrutinizing
the young man for some time, he said:
“When, in addition to a name and a fortune, a man also possesses such a
charming face, it is really inexcusable for him to hide in a village.”
“Most assuredly!” murmured Gérondif, smiling at Monfréville; “if Helen
had hidden, we should not have had the siege of Troy; if Dunois had
remained with his nurse, he probably would not have been called ‘le beau
Dunois.’”
Monfréville bestowed an ironical glance on the professor, and continued
to address Chérubin:
“My dear monsieur, my father was a friend of yours, and that made me
desire your acquaintance; it rests entirely with you whether we shall be
friends as our fathers were. Oh! I realize that the difference between
my age and yours may make my suggestion seem absurd to you, but when you
know the world, you will find that such differences vanish before
congenial tastes and temperaments; I am certain even now that we shall
get on very well together. But deuce take it! what sort of costume is
this? A good-looking young fellow, with a fine figure, rigged out in
such style! It is pitiful!”
“My young master employs his late father’s tailor,” murmured Jasmin; “I
thought that I ought not to take him anywhere else.”
“You were wrong, my faithful servant; a tailor is not a relic to be
preserved with respect; evidently this particular one is out of touch
with the styles of the day.--Franck! bring what I told you to put under
the seat of the tilbury.”
Monfréville’s servant soon appeared laden with clothes; he laid out on a
table a beautiful coat made in the latest style, a waistcoat of
bewitching material, black satin stocks, dainty cravats, and a little
blue velvet cap, with gold lace and tassel.
Chérubin could not restrain a cry of admiration at sight of all those
things. Without asking his permission, Monfréville removed his jacket
and waistcoat and made him put on what he had brought; then he put a
richly embroidered cravat about his neck and tied it rakishly; and
lastly he placed the charming little velvet cap on his head and arranged
the curls which it did not hide. Then he led the young man in front of a
mirror and said:
“Look at yourself! Aren’t you a hundred times better-looking?”
Chérubin blushed with pleasure when he saw how comely he was; and in
truth his new costume did impart a wholly different expression to his
pretty face. He was so handsome that Nicole, although distressed to find
that her _fieu_ was to be taken away from her, could not help crying
out:
“Jarni! how fine he is! Why, he’s superb in that rig! He’s a hundred
times better-looking than he was!”
“He doesn’t look at all like his late father,” murmured Jasmin.
“He resembles the son of Jupiter and Latona, Diana’s brother, otherwise
called Apollo,--Phœbus, if you prefer,” cried Monsieur Gérondif,
still smiling.
Monsieur d’Hurbain glanced at Monfréville with an air of satisfaction,
as if to congratulate him on having discovered the means of seducing
Chérubin, who, in truth, seemed delighted with his costume. He
constantly gazed at and admired himself; and Monsieur de Monfréville, to
encourage his favorable disposition, made haste to say to him:
“I was told that you lived in a village, but I was loath to believe it!
The son of the Marquis de Grandvilain, who ought to be noted for his
style, his dress, his manners, who, in short, was made to be a shining
light in Parisian society, cannot remain buried in a peasant’s house! It
is an anomaly--a crime! These trifling specimens of clothes will give
you an idea of what you would have in Paris. I have come in my tilbury
to fetch you, and I propose that within a week you shall be the best
dressed, the most stylish young man in the capital. You will set the
fashion; you are rich enough and handsome enough for that.”
Chérubin seemed to be captivated by Monfréville’s words, and the latter,
assured of his triumph, said in a moment:
“Let us start, my young friend, let us not delay any longer. The tilbury
is waiting for us, and Paris is beckoning to you.”
But at that Chérubin’s face became clouded, and instead of following
Monsieur de Monfréville and the notary, who had risen, he resumed his
seat, saying:
“No, I don’t want to go away, for I want Louise to see me in these
clothes.”
The two gentlemen from the city were in despair; they believed that they
had fully persuaded the young marquis to accompany them, and again he
refused.
The notary argued, Monfréville put forth all his eloquence and drew
fascinating pictures of the pleasures of Paris, but Chérubin refused to
go with them.
Monsieur Gérondif was in dismay, Nicole was triumphant, and Jasmin
muttered under his breath:
“I had an idea that these men wouldn’t be any smarter than me.”
No one spoke, for no one knew what course to adopt. Suddenly they heard
another carriage approaching. Thereupon a gleam of hope shone in
Monfréville’s eyes, and Monsieur d’Hurbain exclaimed:
“Faith! it’s high time that Monsieur Daréna arrived, but I doubt very
much his having any better success than we have had.”
“Perhaps he will,” murmured Monfréville; “Daréna is one of those people
who dare to do anything.”
The carriage stopped in front of the nurse’s house, and Nicole’s guests
ran to the door to see who alighted.
The cab, for it was a vulgar cab that had arrived, seemed to contain a
number of people, to judge by the noise inside. Several voices could be
heard speaking at once, and continual bursts of laughter. At last the
door opened. Monsieur Daréna alighted first, dressed even more shabbily
than on the previous day; which fact did not deter him from exhibiting
the most distinguished manners, as he assisted his companions to alight.
First came a young woman dressed as a Spaniard, then one dressed as an
Odalisk, a third in a Swiss costume, and a fourth in the piquant garb of
a Neapolitan. And they were all young, pretty, graceful and shapely;
their eyes were bright, mischievous, and most alluring; and there was in
their manner of jumping from the carriage, a surprising lightness and
grace, and in their general bearing an uncommon absence of restraint.
The villagers gazed at them in wide-eyed amazement. Monsieur Gérondif
affected to lower his eyes, but he hazarded a glance nearly every
minute. The notary glanced at Monfréville with an air of surprise,
muttering:
“What does all this mean?”
Monfréville laughed heartily, as he replied:
“Faith! I believe that he is cleverer than we are.”
Meanwhile, Daréna took two of the ladies by the hand.
“Come, Rosina and Malvina; follow us, Cœlina and Fœdora. We have
come to pay our respects to the young Marquis de Grandvilain. Where is
he? Ah, yes, I see him; this charming young man with the melting eyes
is he. _Peste!_ be on your guard, mesdames; those eyes will make
terrible havoc in your ranks.”
As he spoke, Daréna entered the house with his companions. After
ushering in his four ladies, who seemed not in the least embarrassed,
and who scrutinized laughingly the interior of the rustic dwelling,
Daréna saluted Chérubin as if he were an old acquaintance, and said:
“My dear marquis, your notary, Monsieur d’Hurbain, is mine as well; your
friend Monsieur de Monfréville is also a very intimate friend of mine;
so you see that I too should be your friend--that is a title which I
should deem myself fortunate to deserve. Shake hands, marquis--men like
us understand each other instantly. You are young, but we will form
you.”
Chérubin was bewildered by all that he saw and heard; moreover, the
Spaniard and the Neapolitan were already flashing glances at him of a
sort to which he was not accustomed; while the Odalisk smiled at him in
a most enticing fashion, and the Swiss constantly passed the tip of her
tongue over her lips and winked at him. All this caused him a
perturbation which he could not define.
“Marquis Chérubin,” continued Daréna, “I have ventured to bring with me
four fascinating ladies; they are artists, dancers of the greatest
talent, connected with the Grand Opéra in Paris; they had a most eager
desire to see you and to drink milk in the country.--Is it possible to
obtain milk here, virtuous villager?”
While Daréna put this question to Nicole, who ran off at once to the
dairy, the little woman dressed as a Swiss jumped up and down on her
chair, crying:
“Yes! milk’s splendid! I’m going to drink it hard.”
Daréna walked to where she sat and nudged her with his elbow, saying in
her ear:
“Be kind enough to keep quiet, Malvina, for you can’t say anything but
nonsense.”
And Monfréville, biting his lips to avoid laughing, whispered to Daréna:
“You have the face to say that these women are from the Opéra!”
“Three of them are, my dear fellow; I swear that those three are
_figurantes_. The Swiss is at one of the boulevard theatres, it is true,
but she has a bewitching leg.--I have brought these ladies in their
stage costumes,” Daréna continued, addressing Chérubin, “because they
promised to give you a slight specimen of their talent. Come, my
goddesses, give us a pretty _pas de quatre_ for the young marquis, who
has no idea of what is to be seen at the Opéra. I realize that this
isn’t as convenient a place for dancing as the stage; the floor isn’t
parqueted; but you will have all the more credit.”
“It isn’t even tiled!” cried the Swiss, looking at her feet; “how do you
expect us to slide on such a floor? No, thanks! it’s too much work! We
shall come down on our backsides!”
“Ha! ha! very pretty! very pretty!” cried Daréna, affecting to laugh
heartily in order to lessen the effect produced by the Swiss girl’s
expression; “you must excuse madame; she isn’t a Parisian and she
doesn’t know our language very well; she doesn’t understand the
comparative value of words.”
“Tibullus, Petronius and Ovid sometimes employed the equivalent,” said
Monsieur Gérondif, perpetrating an immense smile, so that the four
dancers might see all his teeth.
“I ain’t a Parisian!” cried Mademoiselle Malvina; “well, upon my word! I
was born on Rue Mouffetard--just where my mother sells Brie cheese.”
Daréna trod on her foot and whispered to her:
“If you don’t hold your tongue, Malvina, I’ll put you in the cab, you
shan’t have any milk, and you shan’t come to the dinner.”
The Swiss held her tongue, and the count, taking a kit from his pocket,
prepared to play.
“I’ll be the orchestra,” he said; “I have thought of everything, you
see. Come, mesdames, ready.”
Meanwhile, Monsieur d’Hurbain went to Monfréville and said to him in an
undertone:
“Really, Monsieur le Comte de Daréna has employed an expedient which--I
don’t know whether I ought to assent to this. His scheme seems to me
rather shady.”
“Why so?” rejoined Monfréville. “Daréna is cleverer than we are. I think
that his method of seduction is all right. After all, the young fellow
would go to the Opéra, if he went to Paris; so what is the harm of
letting him see here what he would see on the stage? In fact, it seems
to me that the illusion is much less.”
“Very well,” said the notary, resuming his seat; “after all, the end
justifies the means.”
The four dancers were on the point of beginning their performance, when
Nicole appeared with milk and cups. They pounced upon the latter and
declared that they proposed to have something to drink first.
While they were drinking, Chérubin kept his eyes constantly on those
four women, who were so utterly unlike all the women he had ever before
seen. Monsieur Gérondif poured the milk for the dancers with his own
hands.
“Assuredly I bear a resemblance to Ganymede at this moment,” he said to
them. “He served Jupiter, I serve Terpsichore and her sisters.”
“I say,” said Malvina, snatching the pail from the professor’s hand,
“you make us sick, pouring it out so, drop by drop! I’d rather drink as
much as I like--it’s a quicker way.”
“It’s amazing how thirsty they are, for fashionable ladies,” said old
Jasmin, rolling his eyes in wonderment.
When the milk was exhausted, the four dancers took their places. The
others were seated, Daréna with his kit. He played the air of the _Jota
Arragonaise_, and the ladies began to dance with much grace and
lightness of foot.
The peasants were lost in admiration. Jasmin applauded; Monsieur
Gérondif no longer lowered his eyes, and his whole face was as red and
inflamed as his nose.
Monfréville and the notary watched Chérubin; he seemed fascinated,
enchanted by the novel spectacle presented to him, and his eyes did not
grow weary of gazing at those young and pretty women, whose steps, whose
attitudes, whose slightest movements were instinct with pleasure and
licentiousness. Daréna, observing the effect produced by the dance,
played a livelier air, then another in even quicker time. The dancers
followed the change of tempo, and their dance became more rapid, more
seductive. They seemed to vie with one another in grace and litheness;
their eyes, enlivened by the violent exercise, shone brighter and with
more fire. Jasmin applauded wildly, Monsieur Gérondif scratched his nose
as if he would demolish it, and Chérubin became much moved. At that
moment, excited by the zest with which she danced, Mademoiselle Malvina
began to hurl her legs into space with such vigor that it was impossible
for the spectators to avoid seeing that she wore no drawers.
“They are bayadères!” cried Monsieur Gérondif, whose eyes were almost
out of his head; “it’s the Mozambique dance! it’s very interesting!”
Monsieur d’Hurbain, considering that the Mozambique dance went
altogether too far, rose and said:
“Very good, mesdames, but that will do; you must be tired.”
“Bah!” cried Mademoiselle Malvina, “I’d like to dance the cancan myself!
I’m rather good at the cancan.”
Daréna, who was desirous that the effect produced by the dance should
not be wasted, ran to Chérubin and took his arm, saying:
“Now we are going back to Paris; we are to dine at the Rocher de Cancale
with these ladies, and they hope that you will join us, for the party
would not be complete without you.”
Chérubin was excited, and he hesitated. Daréna made a sign to the
dancers, who at once surrounded the youth, saying:
“Oh, yes, monsieur, come to Paris with us!”
“You must go to the Opéra to-night; you will see us dance there, and it
will be rather different from what it was in this room.”
“It would be very mean of you to refuse us.”
“And then,” cried Malvina, “at the Rocher de Cancale! That’s the place
to get a good dinner! I’m going to stuff myself, I am!”
“Come, come, you must be one of us!” exclaimed Daréna.
The Spaniard and the Neapolitan each seized one of Chérubin’s arms; he
let them drag him away and they carried him, almost dancing, to the cab,
which he entered with Daréna and the four dancers.
“But I have a carriage,” cried the notary; “you will be too crowded with
six in there! Let some of the ladies come in my carriage.”
“No, no!” said Daréna; “we’ll sit in one another’s laps--it’s all the
more fun!--Off you go, driver; founder your nags--we’ll pay you for
them. To the Rocher de Cancale!”
The cab drove away with Chérubin, who had not even had time to bid his
nurse good-bye.
“Daréna has succeeded!” said Monfréville; “the bird has left his nest.”
“Yes,” replied Monsieur d’Hurbain, “but this sort of thing must not go
too far. And this dinner--with those women; really, I can’t be there. I,
a notary, dine with ballet dancers!”
“Oh! bless my soul! just once; you can go _incog_. Besides, it’s for a
good motive, and your presence will prevent the dinner from being too
indecent. Let us take my tilbury, we can follow them better.”
Monsieur d’Hurbain entered the tilbury with Monfréville, and Monsieur
Gérondif and Jasmin jumped into the carriage.
“They are taking my young master to the Rocher de Cancale,” said the old
servant, “and I have ordered a sumptuous banquet at the house, and a
reception, with music and flowers and----”
“Never mind, worthy Jasmin,” rejoined the tutor, “all those things will
serve as well later; my pupil will have to go home eventually. As for
myself, I am Mentor, and I must not abandon Telemachus, even when he
goes to dinner at the Rocher de Cancale.”
XI
MONFRÉVILLE.--DARÉNA.--POTERNE
A handsome salon had been engaged and a sumptuous banquet ordered at the
Rocher de Cancale, by Comte Daréna, who had said to himself before he
started for Gagny:
“Whatever happens, we shall surely come back to dinner; to be sure, if I
happen to be one of those who are to pay, it will be rather hard for me
just at this time; but that doesn’t worry me much; I’ll order the dinner
none the less.”
To give no thought to anything but pleasure, to pay no heed to the
future, to be, in truth, often indifferent concerning affairs of the
present, such was Daréna’s nature. Born of a noble family, he had
received an excellent education and had studied diligently. His father,
a man of a proud and stern character, having observed in his son early
in life a decided taste for independence and dissipation, had thought
that he could correct him by depriving him of those amusements and that
liberty which are the ordinary means of relaxation after toil and study.
Thus, when Daréna was nineteen years of age, he had never had a franc
that he could call his own, or a half hour of freedom. At that time his
father died; his mother had died long before, and he suddenly found
himself his own master and possessed of a very pretty little fortune. He
plunged recklessly into pleasure and dissipation, trying to make up all
the time that his father’s severity had caused him to lose, and bade
adieu forever to study and to serious things.
Cards, women, horses, the table, became his idols. At first he
frequented the best society, to which his name and his wealth gave him
access; from the very beginning he had a multitude of love intrigues;
but Daréna was not sentimental, he looked for nothing but pleasure in
such affairs, and broke them off as soon as he foreshadowed the
slightest exaction or annoyance.
As ladies in good society are not always disposed to form a liaison of a
few days only, and as Comte Daréna’s behavior was no secret, since he
plumed himself on not becoming attached to any woman, his amatory
triumphs gradually became less numerous in the fashionable world, and he
was compelled to pay his addresses to _petites bourgeoises_, then to
ladies of the theatre, then to grisettes, then to courtesans; and
finally he had grown to be so unexacting on that point that he had been
known to take his mistresses from the most humble ranks of society.
Daréna’s fortune, like his love-affairs, had sunk constantly lower and
lower. At last, at the age of twenty-eight, the count had squandered his
whole patrimony and had nothing left save the house in Faubourg
Saint-Antoine, which he desired to sell, and upon which he had already
borrowed more than it was worth.
But, far from worrying concerning his present plight and his future, so
long as he was able to dine well, to drink champagne with a ballet
dancer, a figurante, a lace-maker, or even a lady’s maid, Daréna snapped
his fingers at all the rest. To obtain those enjoyments, he was often
obliged to resort to doubtful expedients; but the man who is not
particular in choosing his acquaintances is not always particular as to
his means of existence.
A person named Poterne had seconded Daréna’s dissipation and ruin to the
utmost of his power. This Poterne was a man whose age it was impossible
to guess, he was so ugly and unshapely. A gaunt, bony, angular body,
supported by thin, knock-kneed legs, was surmounted by an oblong head of
excessive length, a nose broken in the centre and hooked at the end, a
mouth without lips, a protruding chin, and small eyes of a dull green
hue, shaded by bushy eyebrows, and turning incessantly in every
direction. Add to these an enormous quantity of thick, dirty brown hair,
always cut like the quills of a hedgehog, and you have a faithful image
of Monsieur Poterne.
This man had become attached to Comte Daréna when he was still wealthy;
he had offered his services in any capacity; he knew all the places in
Paris where a young man of family can ruin himself with the least
difficulty. If Daréna spied, at the play or on the street, a woman who
attracted him, Poterne undertook to follow her, and to hand her a letter
containing information concerning him. Later, Poterne made it his
business to find usurers, money-lenders, accommodating tradesmen; so
that he had become indispensable to the count, who treated him sometimes
as his friend, sometimes as his servant, cajoled him occasionally,
despised him always, and could never do without him.
The reader will assume perhaps that it had been this gentleman’s aim to
enrich himself at the expense of the person whom he was assisting to
ruin himself. That was Poterne’s idea at first; but his own vices
prevented him from taking advantage of another’s failings. As inveterate
a gambler and libertine as Daréna, while the latter was losing
thousand-franc notes in a fashionable salon, Poterne was gambling away,
in some wine-shop or low resort, the money he had extracted from his
intimate friend. While Daréna entertained some charmer at Véfour’s or
Véry’s, Poterne betook himself to a gin-shop to squander what money he
had with a street peddler, and he was too ugly not to be compelled to be
open-handed. And when Daréna was without a sou he sometimes abused his
friend, and accused him of being the author of his ruin. At such times
he unceremoniously appropriated all that Poterne possessed; and that
worthy, who was also a coward, allowed himself to be despoiled without a
murmur, promising himself that he would have his revenge ere long.
It may seem strange that the refined Monfréville should be on intimate
terms with a man whose tastes, whose conduct, whose very dress, proved
his disorderly mode of life. But there are people who, after knowing a
person when he was rich and fortunate, dare not turn their backs on him
when they meet him with a soiled coat and dingy hat. Moreover, Daréna
still had intervals of prosperity; when the cards had been favorable to
him, or when his friend Poterne had discovered some new resource, he
instantly reappeared, elegantly and stylishly dressed; he frequented the
theatres, the ballrooms and the best restaurants in Paris; and a few
days later, a perceptible falling off in his toilet, a certain lack of
neatness in some part of his costume, indicated that the situation had
changed. But even with a wretched hat and dirty linen, Daréna succeeded
so well in retaining the manners of good society, that it was hard to
believe that he consorted with the very lowest.
Indeed, does anyone know aught of the private life of the great majority
of the persons with whom he has only a passing connection? Meeting
Daréna arrayed as in the days of his prosperity, seeing him squander
money madly in some pleasure resort, no one asked him by what blessed
change of luck he had become rich; and for the same reason, when he was
seen, in shabby garments, slinking into a wretched twenty-two sou
restaurant, no one took pains to inquire what hard luck he had had. In
Paris, people do not try to worm themselves into other people’s secrets;
and in this respect, discretion very often resembles indifference.
Monfréville, who had known Daréna when he was rich, was well aware that
he had squandered his fortune, but he did not believe him to be entirely
without resources, having no idea that he would resort to indelicate
methods of obtaining money. The count had frequently borrowed a
thousand-franc note of him, however, none of which had he ever returned;
but Edouard de Monfréville was wealthy and attached little importance to
those trifling services. And then, too, Daréna’s society amused him; his
sallies, his indifference, sometimes carried to the point of cynicism,
made him laugh and banished the melancholy humor which now and then took
possession of his mind.
Sometimes people wondered what could be the cause of that pensive air,
of that smile, rather bitter than mocking, which often played about
Monfréville’s mouth. He was rich, he had everything calculated to
attract. In society he was sought after, women schemed to gain his
notice; he had been known to have a great number of love-affairs, and he
was still at an age to have more. But his merriment rarely seemed
genuine, and in his conversation he avoided speaking of a sex of which
he could hardly have had reason to complain. Some thought that
Monfréville had reached the point of being surfeited with all sorts of
pleasure, and attributed to that fact the clouds that sometimes darkened
his brow; others, when they heard him sneer at those of his friends who
believed in the constancy of their mistresses, concluded that the
handsome and fascinating Monfréville had had some unfortunate passion,
had been the victim of some treachery. Finally, when he was seen to pass
his thirtieth year, and even to approach his fortieth, without
apparently thinking of marriage, all sorts of conjectures were indulged
in.
“He must have a very low opinion of women,” people said, “as he doesn’t
choose to do like other men, and settle down, under the yoke of hymen.”
But Edouard de Monfréville paid no heed to what people might think or
say of him; he continued to live according to his taste, to do exactly
as he chose; sometimes after passing a month in a succession of
uproarious debauches, surrounded by a jovial, dissipated crowd, all
whose follies he shared, he would hold himself aloof from society for
weeks at a time, finding pleasure only in solitude. His friends had
finally become accustomed to the eccentricities of his humor, because in
society a rich man is always entitled to be original; only the poor
devils are denied that privilege.
Now that we are better acquainted with the people whom we are to join,
let us enter the Rocher de Cancale, where Chérubin had just arrived with
the priestesses of Terpsichore.
XII
A DINNER AT THE ROCHER DE CANCALE
Chérubin found himself in Paris, and at the Rocher de Cancale, before he
had had time to collect his thoughts. All the way to town the ladies had
talked so much nonsense, their conversation was so lively, their remarks
so amusing, that the boy had not ears enough to hear, and he glanced
constantly from one to another of the dancers, to make sure that he was
not dreaming.
When they entered the cab, the ladies enveloped themselves in ample
cloaks, which concealed their costumes, and pulled hoods over their
heads, so that their headdresses could not be seen.
“Why do these ladies all disguise themselves in hoods?” Chérubin asked
Daréna in an undertone.
“My dear marquis,” the latter replied aloud, “they do it so that their
stage costumes may not be seen when they go into the restaurant, for the
Carnival hasn’t come yet.--A modest dress is the correct thing in
Paris.”
“Bah! I don’t care a fig for your correct thing!” said Mademoiselle
Malvina; “for my part I’d just as lief walk about Paris in a Swiss
costume. I say, why mightn’t I be a real Swiss?”
“If you wore an oyster woman’s costume, my dear girl, it’s much more
probable that no one would think that you were disguised.”
“Well! well! that’s a joke, I suppose! how ugly you are! When you’re
out-at-elbows the way you sometimes are, you don’t look any too much
like a count yourself!”
Daréna laughed heartily and tapped Malvina on the cheek, saying:
“Come, come, hold your tongue, and above all things behave decently,
mesdames; in the country a mild sort of freedom is permissible, but at
the Rocher de Cancale, and in the honorable company with which you are
to dine, remember, my little shepherdesses, that if you are not discreet
I shall be obliged to turn you out of the room.”
“Bless my soul! we know how to behave, monsieur! Do you think we never
go into swell society?”
“Why, I often dine with my friend and his brother, who’s one of the
biggest butchers in Paris!”
“And I sometimes keep my cousin’s desk; she’s a baker and sells pastry,
and only gentlemen with canary-colored gloves come to her little place
to eat.”
“Very good, mesdames, very good; we are certain now that you are worthy
to go into good society, and that you know how to behave decorously. Oh!
if Monsieur d’Hurbain had not come to dine with us! But he has come, for
I see him and Monfréville getting out of the tilbury. We have arrived;
come, my young marquis, hand out the ladies.”
The carriage stopped and the door was opened; a porcupine’s head
appeared, surmounting a body clad in an old nut-colored box-coat, the
collar of which was marred by some very extensive spots of grease. It
was Monsieur Poterne, who had stepped forward to assist the ladies to
alight.
Malvina drew back, crying:
“Great God! what sort of thing is that? An owl, a hedgehog?”
“It is my--my business agent,” replied Daréna; “he has looked to it that
everything is properly prepared, and now he has come to assist you to
alight; he is an extremely obliging man.”
“He may possibly be obliging, but he is very ugly; isn’t he, Rosina?”
“Yes. Oh! how stupid it is to be ugly like that!”
“And when you look from him to our charming little Monsieur Chérubin!”
“Gad! there’s as much difference as there is between the sun and a
flea!”
“Come, mesdames, get out of the carriage; you can talk upstairs.”
The company soon assembled in the salon where the table was laid.
Messieurs d’Hurbain and Monfréville had arrived at the same time with
the cab containing Chérubin and the dancers. The notary went to Daréna
and said in his ear:
“I trust, my dear count, that your dancers will behave properly here. I
agree that by their graceful dancing and their bright eyes they have
fascinated this young man; but he is still a mere child, who ought not
to consort with ballet dancers----”
“Mon Dieu! don’t be alarmed! You surprise me! It is due to me that this
baby of sixteen years and a half consented to leave his nurse, and,
instead of thanking me, you preach at me. Be of service to people--exert
your imagination--so that they may lecture you afterwards!”
“I say, Daréna,” said Monfréville, scrutinizing Monsieur Poterne, who
was sidling by the ladies, casting furtive glances at them, to which
they replied by wry faces, “is that horribly dirty person a friend of
yours? Do you expect us to dine with him? I must confess that I am not
charmed by the prospect of his company. Who is the fellow? He looks very
like a hawk.”
“He is my steward.”
“Ah! so you still have a steward? I thought that you had ceased to keep
up an establishment.”
“I have kept nobody else. This man looks after my affairs--he’s an
invaluable fellow for expedients.”
“In that case, he would do well to devise an expedient for obtaining
another coat.”
“Well! aren’t we ever going to dine?” asked Malvina, trying a _pas de
seul_ in a corner of the salon.
“Yes, indeed, madame. Come, Monsieur Chérubin, be kind enough to take
your seat.”
Monsieur d’Hurbain was about to sit beside Chérubin, but Monfréville
stopped him, saying in an undertone:
“Let these girls sit by our pupil, or else we may lose all the fruit of
our trouble. I have been watching Chérubin among all these people; he
sighs sometimes, and if he should have an attack of homesickness, he
might absolutely insist on returning to his nurse, and we should have
much difficulty in keeping him in Paris.”
Monsieur d’Hurbain submitted; he allowed Mesdemoiselles Rosina and
Cœlina to seat themselves on each side of Chérubin; Malvina, who was
too late to obtain a seat next the young man, attempted to force Rosina
to give up her chair to her and threatened to strike her; but a stern
glance from Daréna put an end to the dispute, and Mademoiselle Malvina
seated herself at the other end of the table, humming:
“You shall not take him away, Nicolas! ‘Tis I whom he will love,
tradera!”
There was one vacant place, for Monsieur Poterne had ordered the table
laid for nine, and, despite Daréna’s signs, the gentleman in the
box-coat seemed to be on the point of taking the vacant chair, when the
door opened and Monsieur Gérondif appeared, accompanied by Jasmin.
The professor bowed to the company, saying:
“I humbly salute the gentlemen, and I lay my homage at the feet of the
ladies simultaneously.”
“What is the man doing to our feet?” Malvina asked Daréna, who was
seated beside her, and whose only reply was a violent blow with his
knee.
But Chérubin’s face lighted up when he saw the new arrivals, and he
cried:
“Ah! here you are, my dear tutor! How glad I am that you came to Paris
too! What a pity that--that you----”
Chérubin did not finish the sentence; he was thinking of Louise, and
something which he could not define told him that his innocent playmate
would not be in her proper place in the company of those young ladies
who danced so prettily. Monsieur d’Hurbain, who was greatly pleased by
the tutor’s arrival, because he saw therein an additional safeguard for
Chérubin, saluted Monsieur Gérondif with a gracious smile, and said:
“You did well to follow your pupil, monsieur, and we relied upon your
doing so. Pray take a seat at the table--there is a place awaiting you.”
“Yes, yes, sit there, Monsieur Gérondif,” cried Chérubin, pointing to
the vacant seat. “And you, my good Jasmin, stand by me.”
“I know my duty, monsieur le marquis, and I will take my proper
station.”
As he spoke, the old retainer put a napkin over his arm and planted
himself behind Chérubin’s chair. As for Monsieur Gérondif, he did not
wait for the invitation to be repeated; he pushed Monsieur Poterne
aside, took his seat at the table and swallowed the soup that was
placed before him, crying:
“This is the banquet of Belshazzar! It is the feast of Eleusis! the
wedding festival of Gamache! Never assuredly was there a more sumptuous
repast!”
“I say! that gentleman is talking in poetry,” said Malvina to her
neighbor.
“Yes,” replied Daréna, “I believe that it was monsieur who wrote the
tragedy called the _Earthquake of Lisbon_.”
Monsieur Gérondif smiled graciously at the count, murmuring with an air
of modesty:
“I write verse rather easily, but I never wrote a tragedy, that is sure,
certainly.”
“I beg pardon, monsieur, I took you for Master André; you have much
affinity with him.--But let us drink to monsieur le marquis’s health,
and to the pleasure of having him in Paris at last.”
Daréna’s proposition was eagerly welcomed; the glasses were filled with
madeira, and emptied in Chérubin’s honor; the four dancers drank without
heel-taps, and poured down madeira in a way to arouse an Englishman’s
envy.
Meanwhile Monsieur Poterne, having been cheated out of the seat to which
he aspired, had decided to remain on his feet and to assist Jasmin, in
preference to retiring. So he took his stand behind Daréna; but while
making a pretence of passing him a plate now and then, he asked him in
undertones for whatever he saw on the table. Daréna passed him well
filled dishes, and Poterne, instead of serving them to the guests,
turned his back and rapidly made away with the contents.
The beginning of the repast was lively, but free from anything offensive
to the proprieties; the young women, upon whom Daréna had enjoined the
most rigidly correct behavior, gave their whole attention to doing
justice to the dinner, and maintained an irreproachable demeanor,
although they bestowed an amiable smile on Chérubin from time to time.
Malvina alone let slip an occasional remark or jest of a somewhat
obscene flavor; but Daréna always made haste to cover it by beginning to
talk. His conversation, which was always piquant or rambling,
Monfréville’s, who was in an unusually cheerful mood, and the quotations
of Monsieur Gérondif, who, while eating for four, found time to display
all that he knew, did not leave Chérubin a moment for reflection.
Surprised to find himself the hero of that impromptu fête, he was
dazzled, fascinated, taken captive; the glances that were darted at him,
the witty remarks that he heard on all sides, the flattering things that
were said to him, and the delicious, dainty, toothsome dinner, which
gratified his sense of smell and of taste alike, prevented him from
giving a thought to the village; for when his face became grave and
indicated the arrival of a memory, his companions redoubled their
attentions, their gayety and their pranks, to banish the cloud that had
dimmed his eyes.
“I say,” suddenly exclaimed Malvina, who, as she turned her head,
happened to see Monsieur Poterne taking away a plate that Daréna passed
him, “so your man of business waits on you at table, does he? Is he your
servant too?”
“He serves me in every capacity,” said Daréna; “I tell you he is an
invaluable man; I make whatever I choose of him!”
“Then you’d better make a good-looking man of him!”
“Socrates, Horace, Cicero and Pelisson were hideously ugly,” said
Gérondif, filling the little Swiss maiden’s glass; “a man may be very
plain and still have a brilliant intellect.”
“Ah! you fox, you have your reasons for saying so,” retorted Malvina,
tossing off her champagne.
The tutor, who did not expect that reply, scratched his nose and called
for truffles.
The crash of a breaking plate interrupted the conversation; Jasmin,
while trying to remove his young master’s plate, had dropped it on the
floor; it was the fourth which had met that fate at his hands, together
with two bottles and a carafe.
“I say, is that old fellow Jocrisse?” cried Malvina, with a roar of
laughter.
“Such a valet de chambre must be very expensive!” said Monfréville, with
a smile.
“Excuse me, my dear master,” said Jasmin, who turned scarlet at each new
mishap caused by his awkwardness. “You see, it is a long while since I
have waited at table; but I shall soon get used to it--it is simply a
matter of renewing an old habit.”
“The devil!” said Daréna, “if he means to go on until he gets used to
it, it will be very fine!”
“But why do you stand behind me, my good Jasmin? It is altogether too
fatiguing for a man of your years. Sit in the corner yonder; I will call
you if I should need you!”
“The idea of it!” said Jasmin, trying to stand erect. “Does monsieur
think that I do not know my duty? I will not quit my post, monsieur; I
will die first!”
“In other words, all the landlord’s crockery will die!” said Daréna,
laughingly.--”Honor to unlucky pluck!” he added aloud, raising his
glass.
“This old servant’s attachment is greatly to his credit and to his
master’s,” said Monfréville, “I propose a toast to fidelity; it is so
rare that we cannot do it too much honor, in whatever guise it appears.”
The toast was drunk with enthusiasm by the company. Monsieur d’Hurbain
proposed a toast to the late Monsieur de Grandvilain, and Daréna to the
ballet dancers at the Opéra. Monsieur Gérondif rose and exclaimed with
great earnestness:
“To the progress of the culinary art in France! The old Romans may have
had more dishes than we on their tables, but probably they were less
satisfying.”
Mademoiselle Malvina, determined to propose a toast of her own, raised
her glass and cried:
“I _toast_ for very long ballets and very short skirts, in the interest
of the dancers and of everybody who likes a high kick.”
None of the ladies chose to lag behind; Cœlina drank to her
squirrel’s health, Rosina to her cat’s, and Fœdora to her cousin’s,
who was in the Chasseurs d’Afrique. Monsieur Poterne drank to nobody’s
health, but he kept his back turned to the table, and swallowed an
appalling quantity of champagne. A terrible crash interrupted the
toasts: Jasmin had dropped a pile of plates that time, and the floor was
strewn with débris of crockery.
“This will be rather an expensive dinner,” said Daréna; “one must needs
be very rich to indulge in such servants as this old Jasmin.”
Meanwhile the frequent toasts had excited the guests to some extent.
Malvina, who could not keep still, began to dance a very pronounced
cancan; Cœlina and Rosina attempted the Cracovienne; Fœdora
waltzed with Daréna, and Monsieur Gérondif, finding that everything
about him was in a whirl, although he did not leave his chair, called
loudly upon Malvina for a second performance of the Mozambique dance,
with all its accessories.
Monsieur d’Hurbain, who had retained his presence of mind, thought that
it was time to take Chérubin away; he took the young marquis’s arm,
motioned to Monfréville, and to the tutor, who left the table with
regret, and, picking out a path through the broken crockery, they left
the restaurant and entered a carriage which took them to the hôtel de
Grandvilain, not observing that Jasmin, who had followed them, had
succeeded in climbing up behind, with the assistance of a messenger.
“Aren’t we going back to Gagny?” inquired Chérubin, when he found
himself in the carriage.
“It is impossible to-night, my dear friend, it is much too late,” said
Monsieur d’Hurbain. “To-morrow, or a few days hence, you will think
about it. Since you are in Paris, you should at least get acquainted
with the city.”
“Yes,” mumbled Monsieur Gérondif, whose tongue was very thick, “_Cras_,
to-morrow; _cras mane_, to-morrow morning; _perendinus dies_, day after
to-morrow--no matter when!”
“And with your permission,” said Monfréville, “I will undertake to be
your guide, and to show you all that a young man of your rank should
know.”
Chérubin made no reply; he would have liked to return to Gagny; but the
delicious repast of which he had just partaken had aroused a new train
of ideas in his mind, and he had heard so much of the pleasures that
awaited him in Paris, of which he had already had such a pleasant
specimen, that he finally said to himself:
“After all, as long as I am in the city, I may as well see at once all
the wonderful things I have heard so much about; and when I go back to
Louise I shall have lots of things to tell her, at all events.”
The cab arrived at the mansion in Faubourg Saint-Germain; the porte
cochère was thrown open. The equipage had no sooner entered the
courtyard than the ears of the young marquis and his companions were
assailed by some most extraordinary music. They heard the strains of
several barrel-organs, several violins and two or three clarinets,
playing at the same time, but playing different tunes. Male and female
voices too, shrill and false, roared ancient airs, laments, or
vaudeville choruses. The general result was a horrible medley of sounds.
The occupants of the carriage were asking one another what it could
mean, when they heard a dull thud on the pavement, as if caused by the
fall of a heavy body. They recognized Jasmin, who, when he attempted to
climb down from behind the cab, had fallen in the middle of the
courtyard. But the dauntless retainer was already on his feet, crying:
“It’s nothing; I just slipped.--Monsieur le marquis, I ordered this
concert--musicians and singers--in honor of your return to your paternal
mansion. Long life to the new Marquis de Grandvilain!”
Chérubin thanked Jasmin for his kind intentions, but begged him
instantly to dismiss those people, who were making such a horrible din.
Monsieur d’Hurbain and Monfréville bade the young man good-night,
commending him in whispers to the care of his tutor, who was not in a
condition to understand what they said; then they left him to enjoy the
repose which he was likely to need.
When the strangers had gone, Jasmin asked Chérubin if he wished to pass
his servants in review; and Mademoiselle Turlurette, who was overjoyed
to see her young master, proposed that he inspect the linen closets and
the servants’ quarters, so that he might become acquainted with his
establishment and see how things had been managed since his father’s
death. But Chérubin had no desire to take all that trouble; pleasure is
fatiguing when one is not accustomed to it, and the young marquis wanted
nothing except to go to bed.
When he saw the immense room which was to be his bedroom, where there
was an old-fashioned bed, reached by a set of steps, and surrounded by
enormous curtains of crimson velvet, Chérubin made a wry face and
exclaimed:
“Oh! how ugly it is here! I liked my little room at my nurse’s much
better; it was more cheerful! I am going back there to-morrow, for it
seems to me that I can’t sleep well here.”
But at sixteen years and a half, after a tiresome day, one sleeps well
anywhere; and that is what happened to Chérubin.
As for Monsieur Gérondif, after bestowing an affable smile on
Mademoiselle Turlurette, whom he called “mesdames,” because, his
eyesight being a little blurred, he took her for two persons, he was
escorted to his apartment, and was radiant with delight when he saw the
fine room that had been prepared for him. He stretched himself out
luxuriously in a soft bed, and gently laid his head on a pile of
pillows, saying:
“I never slept in such a bed as this! I sink in, I drown! It is
enchanting! I would like to pass my life in bed, and dream of the
Mozambique dance!”
XIII
TO-MORROW
Chérubin woke late; he gazed about him in amazement and tried to collect
his thoughts. He asked himself why he had left Gagny, his dear Nicole,
and Louise, whom he loved so dearly. Then he thought of the magnificent
dinner of the day before and of those four young women, who were so
pretty and gay and amusing, and who danced so gracefully, casting soft
glances at him the while. It was all well calculated to engross so
inexperienced a head and heart.
Suddenly the crash of breaking furniture made Chérubin start; he turned
his head and saw Jasmin standing in dismay beside a washstand that he
had overturned.
“What is all this?” cried the young man, who could not help laughing at
the grimace made by his old valet.
“It’s I, monsieur--it was because I didn’t want to make a noise and wake
you.”
“So you call that not making a noise?”
“I was walking so carefully that I ran into that little piece of
furniture, and it fell. But no matter; you can find those things at all
furniture shops.”
“Oh! I am not at all alarmed, Jasmin. I am going to dress and go back to
Gagny.”
“What! already, my dear master? Have you examined your cash-box?”
“No; why should I?”
“That is all full of gold, monsieur,” said Jasmin, pointing to the cash
drawer in the secretary; “and it’s all yours. And when it’s all gone,
there is plenty more; you have only to apply to your banker. And one can
enjoy so much in Paris with money.”
“Jasmin, you know that I don’t like to be thwarted. Where are my clothes
and my shoes?”
“I threw them all out of the window, monsieur, except what Monsieur de
Monfréville brought you yesterday.”
“What does that mean? Do you mean that I haven’t any trousers to put on?
Are you mad, Jasmin?”
“It was Monsieur de Monfréville who advised me to throw away all
monsieur’s old things. But there’s a tailor waiting outside, and a
boot-maker and a shirt-maker and a hatter, who have brought some things
that are more in style. It was Monsieur de Monfréville again who sent
them all here; they’ve been waiting an hour for you to wake.”
“Let them come in then.”
The tradesmen were admitted. Each of them was attended by a boy laden
with merchandise. While Chérubin selected those things which pleased him
and which he was told were the most fashionable, Comte Daréna was
announced.
Daréna wore his old ragged coat, his shapeless hat, and his rumpled
cravat of the night before; but he appeared with his usual charming and
playful manner, and shook the young man’s hand with great heartiness,
crying:
“Here I am, my dear fellow; I intended to be here to salute you when you
woke. I have come to breakfast with you.--Ah! you are making purchases?
You should have left that to me; I would have sent my tradesmen to you.
You left very suddenly last night, did you not? The ladies were all
terribly surprised when they found that you were no longer there.”
“Monsieur d’Hurbain told me it was time to go--that we ought not to stay
any longer at a restaurant,” replied Chérubin artlessly.
“Ah! charming! delicious!--In Paris you stay at a restaurant as late as
you choose--you even pass the night there when the fancy strikes you.
Your Monsieur d’Hurbain is a most estimable man, but he is not of our
time, nor on the level of the age we live in. Luckily he won’t always be
with you, for he would be a terrible bore.--Aren’t you going to take
this blue coat?”
“I have already selected two sack coats and two frock coats.”
“Then I’ll take it; I can see at a glance that it will look well on me.
I am also attracted by this little polonaise--it’s a whim. Parbleu! I
like the color of these trousers; I’ll take them and these two
waistcoats. When I am once started, there is no good reason why I should
stop. Here are some shirts which should fit me perfectly. They make
shirts now that fit as tight as a coat; I will take this dozen. These
boots look as if they were well made.--You have a very pretty foot,
Chérubin, of the same type as mine. I will take this pair of boots. Are
they the same size as the ones selected by monsieur le marquis?”
“Yes, monsieur,” the boot-maker replied, with a bow.
“Then I will keep them.--I am curious to see if my head is the same size
as yours, also. Let me see the hat you have chosen.”
Doing his utmost to squeeze his head into a hat which the hatter handed
him, and which was much too small for him, Daréna cried:
“It will fit me--oh! it will end by fitting me. Have you another one
like it there, hatter--but a little larger?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Let me see--that is just right; I will take it.”
The tradesmen glanced at one another with some uneasiness; one could see
in their eyes that they were wondering whether they ought to trust this
gentleman, who selected so many things without even asking the price,
and whose costume did not inspire unbounded confidence. Daréna put an
end to their uncertainty by adding:
“By the way, here I am buying and buying, and I have no money with me!
Parbleu! my friend the young Marquis Chérubin will pay for my purchases
with his own; it is useless to make two bills. Then I will settle with
him.--Will that inconvenience you, my young friend?”
“No, monsieur, it will give me great pleasure,” replied Chérubin, as he
proceeded to dress; “I am delighted to accommodate you!”
And Jasmin whispered to his young master, as he assisted him to put on
his waistcoat:
“It’s very good form, too, very noble, to lend to your friends; the late
Monsieur de Grandvilain, your father, did it all the time! I will settle
with monsieur’s tradesmen.”
Jasmin paid the various accounts.
Daréna gave the dealers his address, so that they might send him what he
had selected, and they took their leave, greatly pleased.
While the old servant went out to give orders for breakfast, Daréna said
to Chérubin:
“Now you are dressed in perfect taste--that is very good so far; but it
isn’t enough; I propose that my young friend shall have all the little
trifles, all the jewelry that is absolutely essential for a Parisian
lion.”
“What do you say? a lion?”
“That is the name given to-day to a young man of fashion. Have you a
watch?”
“Yes, this one; it belonged to my father.”
As he spoke, Chérubin showed Daréna a gold watch as thick as it was
broad. The count roared with laughter as he glanced at it.
“Why, my dear fellow, if you should be seen carrying such an onion,
people would laugh in your face.”
“What’s that? Why, it’s gold!”