of his confreres, and the gentlemen talked together, sometimes walking a
few steps, then stopping, but continuing their conversation all the
time. This lasted a long while. Georget was in despair, and Chicotin
said:
"It must be that they are writing a play together; there's one of them
who seems to be acting it, he gesticulates when he talks as if he was on
the stage."
"They don't act as if they proposed to say good-bye."
"Well! if it's a play in five acts that they're composing, and if
there's any tableaux in it----"
"Oh! mon Dieu! now they're going into a cafe! That is the last straw!"
"What do you expect? We can't prevent those gentlemen from wanting to
take something. Suppose we go into the cafe too and take a _petit
verre?_"
"No, Monsieur Jericourt might notice us, and then he would see that we
have followed him."
"You are right, and he wouldn't answer my questions; indeed, it's better
that he shouldn't see you. Well, let's do sentry duty; it's a bore, but
after all, in our business we often do it for others, and we can afford
to be bored on our own account once in a way."
Jericourt remained more than an hour in the cafe with the person whom he
had met; then they came out, talked again a long while in front of the
cafe, and finally separated.
"At last!" cried Georget, as they walked along Boulevard Beaumarchais,
which Jericourt had taken. "This time, Chicotin, you mustn't wait before
speaking to this gentleman, until he has met somebody else."
"No, no; but still, I must choose my place. There are some places where
one can talk better than others. Ah! he is turning into Rue
Pas-de-la-Mule. I'll tackle him on Place Royale.--Yes, he's turning to
the left. Wait here for me, Georget."
Chicotin ran after his customer, and Georget remained on the boulevard.
Five minutes passed, which seemed an eternity to the young lover; then,
as his comrade did not return, Georget went down the street to Place
Royale, looked about in all directions, and finally discovered Chicotin
under an arcade, talking to Jericourt, who listened with a most
contemptuous expression. Georget would have liked to hear what was being
said; he walked a few steps toward them, but Chicotin saw him and made a
very energetic sign which meant: "Clear out."
Georget took up a position farther away; he leaned against a pillar, and
waited, putting his head out from time to time to see if his friend was
coming. At last he saw Chicotin walking slowly toward him, his troubled
expression denoting anything but good news. Georget ran to meet his
comrade, crying out:
"Well! what is his answer? Tell me at once; I have been dying of
impatience for an hour!"
"His answer? It wasn't worth while following him so far to listen to
that!"
"Ah! I understand; Violette is guilty!"
"Well! according to what that gentleman says, he triumphed over the
flower girl. When I said to him: 'Be kind enough, monsieur, to tell me
something about Mamzelle Violette's virtue, because I know someone who
desires to marry her,' he began to laugh in a sneering way, saying: 'Her
virtue! the flower girl's virtue! Ah! this is charming! delicious!' and
then a lot of stuff that I couldn't understand at all. However, I think
he saw you, for he added: 'It's for your little friend that you are
asking these questions.'--I replied: 'No, monsieur, it's for
myself.'--At that he began to laugh again! How mad that made me, and how
I would have liked to hit him, but that wouldn't have helped matters at
all! Then he said: 'Only idiots believe in the virtue of these girls who
make such a parade of prudery and cruelty. Violette came to my room of
her own free will, and when a pretty girl comes to my room, everybody
knows what that means; my reputation is established. Say that to the
clown who is in love with her.'--And with that he turned on his heel and
began to sing. Ah! that fellow is a miserable villain all the same, and
I don't advise him to give me any more errands to do, or I'll take pains
to make a mistake! I'll carry his notes to the husbands instead of
giving them to their wives, and we'll see if that will make him
laugh!--Well, Georget, you are unhappy, you long to cry! Come, come!
deuce take it! Everything hasn't come to an end! You must be a man, you
must show that you are no longer a little brat! As if a man should pass
his life whining about a girl who has deceived him! Why, if we should
cry every time a woman plays tricks on us, men would have red noses all
the time, and that wouldn't be pretty. And then, after all, the girl
never made you any promise, you told me so yourself; she was free to
give her heart where she chose!"
Georget wiped his eyes, faltering:
"Yes, you are right, Chicotin. Violette was free, and I have no right to
blame her. I am a great fool to grieve so, for after all you have told
me nothing new; but you see, when I saw this morning how pale and
changed she was, I imagined--oh! a lot more foolish things; and then you
yourself told me that I was wrong to suspect her."
"Why, I would have put my hand in the fire over that girl's virtue! That
was my idea of her!"
"Oh! I don't blame you, Chicotin; on the contrary, I love you for it."
"And where are you living now? You've left Paris."
"Yes, I am at Nogent-sur-Marne, on a beautiful place, belonging to
Monsieur Malberg, a man who has been very kind to my mother and me. We
want nothing there; on the contrary, we are very fortunate."
"Do wipe your eyes; come, don't cry like that!"
"I am done, I won't cry any more; I am going back to Nogent, and I shall
never come to Paris again; it makes me too unhappy to see her, and to
think that I mustn't love her. No, I shall not come here again. I swore
that I wouldn't, when I went away before; but I will keep my oath now."
"And you will do well. I will go to see you at Nogent--that ain't
against the law, is it?"
"Oh, no! do come; but you mustn't mention her to me, you mustn't tell me
anything about her; I don't want to know what she is doing."
"Never fear! _bigre!_ I won't be the one to tell you things again that
make you feel so bad. Come, wipe your nose and don't think any more
about her. Mon Dieu! there's no lack of pretty girls, they're a kind of
seed that grows everywhere, like weeds; you can find them in the suburbs
as well as in Paris; I'm sure that there are plenty at Nogent, but I'll
bet that you haven't looked for them yet?"
"No, I haven't thought of it."
"We'll look for them together, and I will hunt up one able to make you
forget all the flower girls in Paris."
"Yes, I will love another, I will love several others!"
"That's the talk; you must love 'em in bunches! In that way, if there's
one of them who plays tricks on you, you can console yourself right away
with another."
"You will come, won't you, Chicotin? you promise to come? But not to
talk to me about her. What difference does it make to me now whether she
is pale or red, whether she is sad or merry? Mon Dieu! it's a matter of
indifference to me now; I snap my fingers at her, I don't propose to
take any further interest in her. When a girl behaves as she has done,
she doesn't deserve anybody's interest, does she, Chicotin?"
"No, no! blow your nose again. I'll go to see you, that's agreed; you
see, I'm my own master; to be sure, I have my gouty gentleman, who gives
me something to do sometimes, but not every day; I haven't been able to
find the Baronne de Grangeville, but that isn't my fault. By the way,
some time ago weren't you also looking for somebody for your Monsieur
Malberg? It was Violette who told me that one day when----"
"Violette! Violette! Did she mention me to you?"
"Ah! what a stupid turkey I am! Here I am talking about her now! I wish
I'd bitten my tongue out!"
"Mon Dieu! it isn't a crime, after all, Chicotin. Besides, it must have
been long ago, when she loved me a little, when she was fond of me; for
she was, I am perfectly sure of it."
"Well, it's all over now! You were looking for somebody, that's all! and
that was why we never met."
"That is true, but I looked in vain, I could not find that Monsieur de
Roncherolle in Paris."
"Monsieur de--what name did you say?"
"Monsieur de Roncherolle."
"Well, on my word! that is a good one! Is that the man you looked for so
long in vain?"
"Yes, can it be that you know where to find him?"
"Do I know! why, it's my gouty gentleman; he set me to find a lady. Ah!
he looks to me like an old rake! but swell, and generous, though it
seems he's ruined."
"And this gentleman's name is De Roncherolle?"
"Exactly; and I had a bouquet to carry from him--indeed, he bought it of
Violette."
"Of Violette?"
"Confound it! I am getting to be as talkative as a magpie, and as stupid
as a kettle!"
"Does that gentleman know Violette too?"
"Why, no, he knows her just as everybody may know a person who sells
flowers; he bought a bouquet of her and paid for it, that's all."
"And his name is De Roncherolle?"
"Yes, yes; how many times must I tell you that?"
"And he lives----"
"In a small furnished lodging house on Rue de Bretagne, in the Marais; I
don't know the number, but you can find it easily enough."
"Thanks, Chicotin, thanks! At last I am going to be able to be of some
service to Monsieur Malberg; he was so anxious to find that gentleman; I
must go at once and tell him. But mon Dieu! it just occurs to me--what
time is it now?"
"The clock on Saint-Paul's just struck six."
"Six o'clock! and monsieur told me to be at the corner of the Boulevard
and Rue d'Angouleme at five."
"It will hardly be possible for you to be there."
"No matter, we must run; come, Chicotin, quick!"
The desire to please his benefactor had banished from his mind for a
moment the pretty flower girl's image. He ran at the top of his speed to
the place which the count had appointed, and Chicotin followed him,
saying from time to time:
"Sapristi! we are going at a lively pace! If a horse dealer should see
us, he would enter us for the races on the Champs-de-Mars; we would beat
all the ponies!"
The two young men arrived at the place appointed, but Georget could not
see his master.
"Wait here," he said to his friend; "I am going to our house, and I
shall be able to find out there if Monsieur Malberg has gone back;
wait."
Georget went to the house where he used to live. He found Baudoin's
wife, who by an extraordinary chance was sober, and who said to him:
"Monsieur Malberg came here to ask if you were here, but it was
three-quarters of an hour ago; he was in a cab, and he didn't even get
out; he probably started for Nogent right away."
Georget returned to his comrade.
"Monsieur went to the house to look for me, then he went away; of course
it wasn't his place to wait for me. So I must start at once, and I will
soon be there."
"Are you going on foot?"
"Yes, I can go faster than the public carriages."
"I will be your escort as far as Vincennes, but on condition that we
don't run so fast as we did just now. Now that your master has gone
ahead, it won't make any difference whether you arrive half an hour
sooner or later; and if he scolds you, you have something to tell him
that will restore his good humor."
"Oh, he never scolds.--Come, Chicotin, let us start."
"What on earth are you doing? We are on Boulevard du Temple, and you are
starting off toward Porte-Saint-Martin to go to Vincennes!"
"Ah! you are right; I was thinking of something else, and I made a
mistake."
"All right; come, file left, and let's shake out our legs; it's lucky
I'm here to start you on the right road."
XXVII
A RESEMBLANCE
The Comte de Brevanne had a reason for going to Paris, but he did not
wish to confide to anyone the purpose of his journey; having completed
his visit, he was driven, about five o'clock, to Boulevard du Temple,
near Rue d'Angouleme, and there he looked about for Georget, who, intent
upon following Monsieur Jericourt, had forgotten his appointment with
the count. The latter, without alighting from his carriage, drove to his
city home, where the concierge informed him that Georget had not
called.
"I can guess where he probably is, and what has made him forget the
appointment," thought Monsieur de Brevanne. "Driver, take me to the
flower market on Boulevard Saint-Martin."
The driver whipped up his horse and the count said to himself:
"Here is an opportunity to see this girl who is so pretty, and who has
turned my poor Georget's head; I will wager that he is within a few
steps of the flower girl's booth, and that he can't make up his mind to
go away. A boy loves so earnestly at eighteen! and this poor fellow's
heart is too soft; he will be unhappy for a long while if I do not
succeed in curing him. But how? First of all, I must find out whether
this girl is really a bad girl."
The count left his carriage at the corner of the boulevard, and entered
the flower market, saying:
"How shall I know Mademoiselle Violette? Why, of course, from Georget,
whom I shall probably see hovering about her booth."
And Monsieur de Brevanne walked along, examining all the flower dealers.
He saw some who were old and others who were not pretty. Beauty is a
rarer thing than is generally supposed. Go into a theatre, and turn your
opera glass in all directions: sometimes out of six hundred women in the
audience, you will not find a single one who is really beautiful. Let us
not be surprised at the vast number of conquests that pretty women make,
for their number is very, very small.
The count walked on, not surprised at not seeing Georget, as there
seemed to be no fascinating flower girls. But as he drew near the
Chateau d'Eau, a lovely face instantly attracted his eyes. It belonged
to a flower girl, and she was probably the one he sought. Georget was
not there, however; but the girl was so lovely that it was impossible
that there could be another among the dealers in flowers that could be
compared with her.
Monsieur de Brevanne stopped in front of the flower girl, and gazed at
her with an interest which became deeper with every moment; as he
scrutinized her features, he was conscious of an emotion which he could
not comprehend at first; the girl reminded him of someone; he searched
his memory for a moment, but it did not take long to decide whose
portrait he saw in the girl.
"What an extraordinary resemblance!" said the count to himself, his eyes
still fastened upon Violette's face, for it was her booth at which he
had stopped. "This girl has all Lucienne's features, but Lucienne's
features when I was paying court to her, when she was not my wife; only,
Lucienne had a merry expression, a smile always on her lips, and this
girl has a melancholy look, her brow is careworn; but probably she is
not always thus. Is it a delusion of my senses? No, that profile, that
nose, the outlines of the face--it is impossible for two persons to
resemble each other more closely. And is this the Violette with whom
Georget is in love? It must be she; but no matter, I must make
certain."
The count walked to the flower girl's booth, picked up a bunch of roses
and asked the price. Violette replied, and her voice made a profound
impression upon the count, for that too was his wife's. He bent so
piercing a glance upon the girl that she was confused and lowered her
lovely eyes.
"I beg pardon, mademoiselle," said the count, as he paid for his roses;
"but perhaps you can assist me in finding the person for whom I am
looking; it is a young flower girl named Violette."
"Violette--why, I am Violette, monsieur."
"Ah! are you she?"
"There is nobody else of that name in this market."
"Oh! I believe you; indeed, I suspected that you must be the one."
"What do you wish of me, monsieur?"
"It will seem strange to you, mademoiselle, but I was looking for you in
order to find another person."
"I don't understand you, monsieur."
"I will explain myself: I have with me now, at my place in the country,
a young fellow who used to be a messenger, and whose stand was on this
boulevard."
Violette, who instantly flushed crimson, exclaimed:
"You must mean Georget, monsieur."
"Yes, his name is Georget."
"In that case, monsieur, you must be the gentleman of whom he has told
me so much good: that Monsieur Malberg, who was so kind to him when his
mother was ill, who gave him money, and----"
"I am Monsieur Malberg," replied the count, hastening to put an end to
the girl's eulogium; "but it's Georget, not I, of whom we are speaking;
he came to Paris with me to-day, and he made an appointment with me at
five o'clock, to return to Nogent, where my country house is. I am
surprised at his lack of punctuality, and I thought that I might find
him at this market. You have not seen him, mademoiselle?"
"I beg pardon, monsieur, I did see him for a moment, but it was more
than two hours ago. He was over there, opposite me; I don't know whether
he had been there long, but when I looked at him, when he saw that I saw
him, he instantly disappeared, and I haven't seen him since then."
"And he didn't speak to you?"
"Oh, no! he doesn't speak to me now, monsieur."
As she said this, Violette's voice changed, she heaved a deep sigh, and
her eyes filled with tears.
The count was touched; as he listened to the girl, he did not tire of
gazing at her with a close scrutiny which would have alarmed her if she
had not been at that moment engrossed by the thought of Georget.
"Is your mother still living, mademoiselle?" the count suddenly asked;
and Violette, surprised by a question which had no connection with
Georget, faltered:
"No, monsieur, no, I have no mother.--Did Georget tell you that he knew
me, monsieur?"
"Yes, yes, he told me that.--Is it long since you lost her?"
"Why, monsieur, it is several weeks now since I have seen him; so he is
in the country with you, is he, monsieur?"
"Georget? yes, he is with me. But I was talking about your mother; I was
asking you if you lost her when you were young?"
"My mother? why, I never knew her, monsieur; I am a poor girl, deserted
by her parents; and I owe the position that I have to-day to a
kind-hearted woman who sold flowers on this same spot."
"Ah! I understand," replied the count, thinking that the girl had been
brought up at the Foundling Hospital. "I beg your pardon, I am sorry
that I asked you that question; I should be terribly distressed to cause
you pain; I must seem very inquisitive to you, but your features remind
me strongly of someone whom I once knew very well."
"Oh! you haven't offended me, monsieur; I ask nothing better than to
answer you; I was so anxious to know you, since I knew how kind you had
been to Georget."
"How old are you?"
"I am eighteen and a half, monsieur; I shall be nineteen in three
months, I believe."
"That is strange!"
"Is Georget very happy at your place in the country, monsieur? Does he
never come to Paris, he who formerly could not pass a day without
walking on the boulevard? To be sure, in those days he used to speak to
me, he used to talk with me, and I had to scold him very often, to make
him go to work; and now he never looks at me, or else he has such a
contemptuous expression, and all because someone told him something
about me--as if he should have believed it! Ah! if anyone told me that
Georget had stolen, or that he had done anything mean, would I believe
it?--I beg your pardon, monsieur, but does he ever speak to you of me?
Do you think he has forgotten me altogether?"
For several moments the count had not been listening to the flower girl;
he was preoccupied, absorbed by his memories, and he did not hear what
she said to him. At last, abruptly driving away the thoughts that beset
him, he exclaimed:
"I am a madman! just because of a resemblance, such as nature often
produces, I must needs imagine--Adieu, mademoiselle, adieu! once more,
pray excuse my curiosity."
And the count hastened away, without answering the last questions of the
pretty flower girl, who was more depressed than ever, as she looked
after him, saying to herself:
"He wouldn't answer what I asked him about Georget; perhaps he told him
not to. To be despised, when one has nothing to blame oneself for! that
is horrible! and yet, I feel in the bottom of my heart that the main
thing is to have one's conscience clear. I have nothing to reproach
myself for, and some day they will reproach themselves for having made
me so wretchedly unhappy."
The count entered his carriage and started for Nogent. But on the way,
his mind was full of that extraordinary resemblance, and the young
flower girl's face constantly returned to his thoughts.
In vain did Georget make all possible haste, he did not reach Nogent
until fully two hours after the count. Chicotin left his comrade on the
outskirts of Vincennes, panting for breath, exhausted and dying with
thirst, because his friend would not consent to enter a wine-shop for
refreshment, as that would have delayed them. He shook hands with
Georget, saying to him:
"My dear boy, I am very glad I came with you, but I've had enough; if I
went any farther I should have the pip, and I believe I should break in
two. Deuce take it! you have a way of walking that leaves cabs and
omnibuses nowhere. Au revoir; I'll call and say good-day to you at
Nogent, but I shall go all alone, and take my own time walking; I prefer
that way."
Georget presented himself before his master, decidedly shamefaced; he
was afraid of being scolded because he was not on hand punctually at the
place which his patron had appointed; but the count simply said to him:
"As I didn't find you at the place I mentioned, I concluded that you had
forgotten the time at the flower market, with the pretty flower girl,
and I went there to look for you."
"You went there, monsieur? Did you see Violette?"
"Yes, I saw her and talked with her."
"You talked with her? Ah! I didn't speak to her! With one of my old
comrades, named Chicotin, who wouldn't believe that Violette had behaved
badly, I followed that Monsieur Jericourt, the man to whose rooms
she--she went; and as Chicotin knows that man, he begged him to tell us
the truth about the flower girl. As I expected, he confirmed what I had
already heard."
"It's a pity, for that girl is very interesting, and I discovered in her
features a resemblance to a person who was very pretty also--long ago!"
"Oh! isn't Violette lovely, monsieur? I told you so! And--excuse me if I
ask you a question--but what did she have to say to monsieur?"
"She talked about you, my boy."
"About me! about me! why on earth did she speak of me, when she doesn't
love me and has made me so unhappy? Why does she think of me, when
another man has her love, when she did not care for mine, which was so
true, so sincere? Is it to make me unhappy again? is it to make me still
more desperate, that she speaks of me? I don't want her to talk about
me, I will tell her not to!"
"Come, come, be calm, Georget; you are not reasonable, my friend; and I
think that I shall do well not to let you go to Paris again."
"Forgive me, monsieur; you are right to scold me.--Mon Dieu! to think
that I hurried back so fast, because I had good news to tell monsieur,
and here I have forgotten all about it and haven't told him! It is all
Violette's fault, you see, monsieur; she upsets my wits, she makes me
forget everything; it is worse than sickness, monsieur!--And she talked
about me?"
"Well, Georget, as you have thought of it at last, what is the news that
you have to tell me?"
"Monsieur, I haven't forgotten that sometime ago you employed me to find
the residence in Paris of a person whom you wished to find; it was a
Monsieur de Roncherolle, wasn't it, monsieur?"
At the name of Roncherolle, the count's face instantly lighted up, and
he seized Georget's arm, exclaiming:
"Yes, yes, it was he! Well, go on--what do you know?"
"I know that gentleman's address, at last."
"You know it?"
"Yes, monsieur.--Mon Dieu! if I had happened to mention it sooner to
Chicotin, my old comrade, I should have known it a long while ago. He is
that gentleman's messenger, he works for him."
"And his address?"
"Monsieur de Roncherolle lives on Rue de Bretagne, in the Marais, in a
furnished lodging house. He doesn't know the number, but as the street
is short, it will be easy to find."
"Rue de Bretagne, in the Marais,--a furnished lodging house?"
"Yes, monsieur, that is right."
"So I have found him at last!" murmured the count, intensely excited.
"If I should go this evening--but no, it is too late. He would not admit
me perhaps. But to-morrow morning--yes, I will see him to-morrow."
"What could Violette have had to say to you about me, monsieur?"
faltered Georget, walking toward his master; but he simply pointed to
the door and said: "Leave me," in a tone which permitted no reply.