"Well, well, tell us what you're dreaming about, my Knight of the Round
Table? Is that baroness's name going to spoil your spirits? I don't
propose to have that! Don't let me hear any more of your great ladies; I
call for a third way of drinking champagne."
"Here! present!" said Roncherolle, resuming his playful air. "See, my
dear girl, here is a third way: we put the glass on the plate like this
just now, didn't we? Well, now we are going to stand this second glass
on the first one; that is easy enough; but then we fill the glass that
is on top, and drink the contents by lifting the plate as we did just
now, without touching either glass."
"Oh! that must be terribly hard!"
"Look--here goes."
Roncherolle performed the feat he had described, without spilling a drop
of wine. Saint-Arthur was lost in admiration, but Jericourt muttered as
he tipped back in his chair:
"I have seen clowns on the boulevard do that."
Roncherolle glared at Jericourt with a half-angry, half-bantering
expression, saying: "In truth, monsieur, I was a clown a very long
while! And with the permission of the company, I will undertake to make
you as flat as this knife blade in a very few moments."
Jericourt did not know what reply to make. Zizi, who, with the tact
which all women possess, divined a quarrel on the point of breaking out,
made haste to say to Roncherolle:
"Come, my dear gallant, since you are so obliging and are willing to
instruct us in your science, show me again what you have just done, and
I will try to copy you; I will be your assistant."
"I shan't try this third way of drinking," said Saint-Arthur, "except in
my own room and with unsophisticated water."
"You will do well, my boy, for you would break too many glasses here."
The young actress did what Roncherolle had just shown them, and did it
with equal success.
"Bravo! bravo!" cried the host. "Honor to Zizi! You know three ways
already, dear love!"
"And I don't propose to stop at that."
"These ladies succeed in whatever they choose to undertake," said
Roncherolle.
Jericourt, with a curl of his lip, muttered:
"Madame Saqui could do no better!"
"Oh! you always look as if you were sneering!" said Zizi; "but you would
be hard put to it to do as much. It's easy to criticise, my dear man!"
"This much is certain, that I shall not venture to contend with you."
"Because you realize your inferiority."
"But I am waiting till you come to the thirty-third way. I fancy that
you will do some very extraordinary things then!"
"Oh! my boy, we're not such fools. We mean to have some fun, to get a
little screwed, but we don't propose to get drunk. We will learn one
more way and that will do for to-night; what do you say, my gallant?"
"As you command, _belle dame_."
"Why, do you know that you're a hard-headed party? Champagne doesn't
seem to affect you at all. You drink more than we do, and you don't seem
to notice it."
"That is the result of my long studies--another advantage of age!"
"Look at Alfred; he hasn't drunk half as much as you, I'll bet, and his
eyes are in curl-papers already; anyone would think he was going to
sleep."
"I--oh! I haven't any desire to sleep; I was engaged in thought."
"Of what?"
"Of the baroness whom he escorted home, no doubt!" said Jericourt, with
an ironical glance at the gentleman who aroused his displeasure, and
whose emotion at the mention of the baroness's name he had noticed.
"Are you going to stuff us some more with your titled lady?" cried
Mademoiselle Zizi; "bah! what a tease this Jericourt is!"
"That subject bores you, my sweet angel; forgive me, I won't mention
that lady again. However, I believe that this Madame de Grangeville is
nothing more than a counterfeit baroness."
"What makes you think so, monsieur? By what right do you insult that
lady?" demanded Roncherolle, in a tone in which there was no trace of
jesting, and with a by no means amicable glance at the man of letters.
"What! I insult her? Why do you set yourself up as the lady's champion,
monsieur, if you don't know her?"
"I do know her, monsieur, and I have a right to defend her. The Baronne
de Grangeville is more noble than you are eminent in letters; but
perhaps that is not saying overmuch for her nobility."
"You are attacking me now, monsieur; do you mean to insult me?"
"Come, come, messieurs! upon my word! how is this? do you propose to
quarrel now?" murmured Alfred, whose mouth had become dry and sticky. "I
won't have it; I----"
"Hold your tongue, Bibi!" cried Mademoiselle Zizi. "Don't you see that
it's a joke? It would be pretty, wouldn't it, to come to dinner with a
lady and take to squabbling in her presence!--In the first place, I
believe monsieur is too well bred for that; and as for Jericourt, he
knows well enough that it doesn't pay to make me angry; I have ways of
revenging myself! Come; let's have no more talk about it, and our dear
neighbor will show us the fourth way to drink champagne; and everybody
must try to imitate him this time. What do you say, my dear friend?"
"I told you just now, _belle dame_, that I am always at your service."
"Good! now you are agreeable again."
While Roncherolle filled his glass, Jericourt rose, took his hat, and
said, bowing coldly to the company:
"It is eight o'clock and I have an appointment at that hour; I am
distressed that I cannot stay longer."
"What! leaving us so early?" faltered Alfred.
"Liberty! _libertas!_" said Zizi; "all sorts of good wishes, monsieur!"
When Jericourt had left the room, the young woman sprang to her feet and
began to dance a sort of _cachucha_ in front of the mirror, singing:
"Il est parti
Ce cher ami!
Ah! ca m'enchante!
J'en suis contente!
Traderi dera la la
Traderi deri! Biribi!"
"Faith!" said Roncherolle, "I must tell you frankly, my dear Monsieur
Saint-Arthur, that Monsieur Jericourt doesn't attract me at all, and
that I ask you as a favor not to invite me to dine with him again!"
"Nor me; I won't dine with that ill-licked fellow any more; do you hear,
my dear?"
"I hear.--But let's see the fourth way."
"Attention!--You must sing: 'When the bells of the village ring the hour
of work, _eh bon, bon, bon_!' I have my glass full, I drink after your
three _bons_, and I answer _bon_. You repeat _eh bon bon bon_ three
times; I answer _bon_ every time, after drinking; and when I say _bon_
the last time I must have finished my glass."
"_Fichtre!_ that's rather complicated!"
"Not at all; it's simply a matter of emptying your glass in three
swallows; you mustn't begin till after the _eh bon bon bon_, and you
must finish it before you say the last _bon_.--Sing, fair Zizi."
"Here goes!
"When the bells of the village
Ring the hour of work,
Eh bon bon bon!"
Roncherolle, after drinking:
"_Bon!_"
Zizi:
"_Eh bon bon bon!_"
Roncherolle:
"_Bon!_"
Zizi:
"_Eh bon bon_----"
"_Bon!_ and you see, it's empty!"
"Ah! that's a very pretty way!--It's my turn; fill my glass, old fellow,
and sing; I'm ready."
Roncherolle sang and Mademoiselle Zizi drank, answered _bon,_ and
swallowed her wine at one gulp.
"You went a little fast," said the professor; "but never mind, you'll do
it all right."
"My turn!" cried Alfred, lifting his glass in a hand that was far from
steady. "Sing, and you'll see; I'm sure of succeeding at this method; I
am waiting at the post."
Mademoiselle Zizi sang the ballad. At the first _bon bon!_ Saint-Arthur
spilt his wine on the floor; at the second he struck his nose with his
glass; and at the third he swallowed the wrong way and strangled; they
were obliged to pound him on the back and make him look at the ceiling,
in order to bring him to life.
"My dear boy, I think that you have done enough for to-day," said Zizi;
"you are not adroit to-night, and I don't want you to learn any more
ways.--Great heaven! it's nine o'clock! I must go and dress--I wear a
costume that it takes a long while to put on.--I say, I'm a little
dizzy; but no matter! it will pass off on the stage.--Adieu, monsieur; I
hope to see you again."
"Are you going away alone?"
"I have only to cross the boulevard. Alfred, you will come to my
dressing-room for me at half-past eleven, not a minute earlier; I forbid
you."
"Yes, dear angel.--Isn't she enchanting, neighbor, with that little
demoniacal expression?"
"And he'd like me not to love anybody but him, the idiot!" whispered
Zizi in Roncherolle's ear; "can you imagine such conceit?"
"That certainly would be a great pity."
Mademoiselle Zizi disappeared. Alfred paid the waiter, doing his utmost
to stand erect on his legs.
Roncherolle took his arm, to help him to go downstairs, and before
leaving him on the boulevard, said:
"Do me the favor to give me the address of the lady whom you took
home--the Baronne de Grangeville."
"Ah! the Baronne de--you want to know her address? Villain! monster! you
have criminal designs!"
"Perhaps so--but her address."
"Wait--I know it perfectly."
"Well then, where is it?"
"Ah!--Rue de--what do you call it--you know it well enough!"
"If you should tell me the name, I should know it better."
"Rue--parbleu! Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges; number 21 or 24--it's in the
twenties."
"Infinitely obliged."
"Au revoir, my dear friend! I'm going to the Cafe Turc for a game of
billiards; I feel in condition to make fifteen cannons in succession."
"Much pleasure to you."
And Roncherolle walked away, saying:
"I know her address at last! To-morrow I will carry her a bouquet
myself."
XXXI
THE EFFECTS OF TIME
But our plans are traced on sand; and then too, sad as it is to admit
it, champagne is not really good for the gout.
On the day following that dinner party, during which Roncherolle had
given instruction in such pleasant matters, instead of going as he hoped
to pay a visit to the Baronne de Grangeville, he was obliged to keep his
bed; his gout had returned, more obstinate and more painful than ever;
the poor invalid lost his temper, complained, swore like one possessed,
because it seemed to him that that relieved him; and finally he said to
himself:
"I won't give any more lessons in drinking champagne."
At the end of three days, all that Roncherolle could do was to lie at
full length in his reclining chair, with his foot on cushions; then, as
he could not hope to leave the house for some time, he sent the young
man of the house, Beauvinet, to bring his usual messenger; and Chicotin
soon appeared before him.
"Look you, my boy," said Roncherolle, "I have been shrewder than you--I
have discovered Madame de Grangeville's address."
"The deuce you have! however did you do it? You can hardly walk!"
"I could walk a few days ago, and if it hadn't been for an infernal
dinner--but faith, I guess I won't curse that dinner, for I enjoyed
myself hugely; and after all, if I suffer, I suffer for something; let
us return to the lady; the Baronne de Grangeville lives on Rue
Fontaine-Saint-Georges, number 21 or 23; I am not quite sure of the
number but it's in the twenties."
"Oh! that's enough, bourgeois; that's all I need; if necessary, I will
try all the houses in the street."
"Very good; now take this five-franc piece; you will go and buy a
bouquet for which you will pay three francs, no less, understand; don't
try to cheat me."
"Oh! never you fear, bourgeois, that's all right; if the flower girl
should ask only forty sous, I would give her three francs."
"But I should prefer that the girl should ask three francs; the bouquet
will be finer."
"It's all right; never you fear, the bouquet will be a good one."
"When you have got it, you will take it to Madame de Grangeville from
me, and you will tell her that Monsieur de Roncherolle sends his
respects and that he will come to see her as soon as he can go out."
"I will say when you get over your gout."
"No, don't mention my gout, that isn't necessary. Say to her that I am
indisposed; that is all, do you understand?"
"Yes, bourgeois, never fear; it will all go as if it was on wheels; and
shall I come back and tell you what answer the lady gives me?"
"Naturally."
"I am off. By the way, bourgeois, perhaps you don't know, but no doubt
you will soon receive a visit from a friend of yours; that happens just
right; you are sick and it will amuse you."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that yesterday, no longer ago than that, I saw my old comrade
Georget, a good fellow, who's in the dumps all the time because he's in
love. But that's another story; it would take too long to tell you."
"I will excuse you from telling it, but come to the point at once."
"Well, while we were talking, I mentioned your name; it happens that his
master at Nogent knows you and would like to see you; he didn't know
your address, so I gave it to Georget."
"What is the name of this gentleman at Nogent?"
"His name is Monsieur Malberg."
"I don't know anybody by that name; your comrade must have made a
mistake and taken one name for another. But go about your errand to
Madame de Grangeville, and above all things buy a pretty bouquet."
"I should say so! if I didn't get a fine one for three francs, it would
be funny."
Chicotin took his leave. Roncherolle stretched out his leg, made a wry
face and uttered a hearty oath, because of the pain; then he laid his
head on the back of his chair and tried to sleep.
Five minutes passed; the hall door opened again, and a gentleman
appeared in the doorway; it was the Comte de Brevanne, who said as he
glanced into the chamber:
"Monsieur de Roncherolle, if you please?"
Receiving no reply, the count decided to enter; he saw a gentleman
dozing, who had not been shaved for several days, whose head was covered
with a huge fur cap, which fell almost over his eyes, and who was
wrapped in an old dressing gown of which it was not easy to tell the
color. He shook his head, saying:
"That boy must have directed me to the wrong door, this can't be the
place. Roncherolle would not live in such a wretchedly furnished room;
besides, this sick old gentleman in the chair must be at home. I must
try elsewhere."
Brevanne was about to go away, when Roncherolle opened his eyes and
seeing a stranger in his room, cried:
"What is it? What do you want of me? Why are you here, monsieur?"
At the sound of that voice, which had not changed so much as the person
to whom it belonged, the count stopped, shuddered slightly and repeated
in a loud voice:
"I want Monsieur de Roncherolle."
"Well, I am De Roncherolle! what do you want of me?"
The count stepped forward; he scrutinized the man before him, and he
wondered if that pale, sick creature, whose face had grown thin and
indicated long suffering, who seemed to be at least sixty years old, and
whose costume was far from denoting prosperous circumstances, could
possibly be Roncherolle, formerly so dandified and magnificent, who was
cited as a model for men of fashion, and whom all the women admired.
As for Roncherolle, for some moments he had been looking attentively at
his visitor; the more he looked at him, the more keenly did his features
betray the emotion which he felt; and at last when the count exclaimed:
"Is it really true that you are De Roncherolle?" he instantly replied:
"To be sure, and you are De Brevanne!"
The count recoiled, exclaiming:
"You dare to use intimate terms to me, monsieur!"
"Oh! I beg your pardon, that's true; I should not address you so; I
forgot, it was the old habit; but hereafter I will be more careful. Pray
sit down, monsieur le comte; I knew you at once, for, except that your
hair is turning gray, you are but little changed; whereas with me it is
very different; you could not believe that it was I. I have grown old
rapidly, I crumbled all at once; add to that all sorts of annoyances,
the change in my position, and people turning their backs upon me
because I can no longer oblige them, and others because I did oblige
them formerly, like Beaumont, De Marcey and De Juvigny! But I am
chattering away and you are still standing; pray take a seat and be good
enough to tell what brings you here."
"You ask me what brings me, monsieur!" retorted De Brevanne, still
standing in front of De Roncherolle. "You ask me that! you mean that you
do not divine?"
"Faith, no!"
"When you see once more the man whom you shamelessly outraged, and whom
you have eluded for so many years, you do not divine that he comes to
demand the satisfaction which you refused him so long ago?"
"Bah! do you really mean it's for that? What! after so long a time,
after twenty years, you still think of that business?"
"There is no limitation in matters relating to honor."
"Ah! that makes a difference; you are obstinate about it. I am sorry for
that; but did not I admit my fault? Didn't I ask your pardon long ago?
Come, Brevanne, come, does not heaven say: 'mercy for all sins?' We were
such good friends once."
"Hush! do not appeal to the memory of that friendship, which makes your
conduct even more odious. But let us not waste time in useless talk; for
twenty years I have been looking for you, to fight with you; I have
found you to-day, and I trust that you will no longer refuse to give me
satisfaction."
"Since you are bent upon it! Mon Dieu! men are supposed to become
reasonable when they grow old; the fact is that they are never
reasonable.--Honor! honor! oh! how right Beaumarchais was!--All this is
infernally stupid, on my word!"
"Well, monsieur?"
"Well, I will do whatever you wish; arrange it for--for--ah! ten
thousand million thunders! how I suffer! how I suffer!"
A violent attack of pain seized the invalid; he turned pale, his voice
died away, great drops of perspiration rolled down his cheeks, the
contraction of his features proved the violence of the pain that he
felt, and the count was deeply moved at sight of his suffering; he
looked all about the room in search of something to help him. He saw on
the mantelpiece a phial filled with a liquid; he took it and offered it
to Roncherolle.
"Here, perhaps this is what you take when you have such attacks. Drink."
"No," replied Roncherolle, pushing away the phial. "Let me suffer; I
have well earned it; you see what I am reduced to; if you kill me,
instead of punishing me you will do me a favor."
"Monsieur," said the count, "the duel cannot take place while you are in
this condition, I appreciate that; I must wait until you are cured, in
order that I may have an adversary worthy of me. I leave you, and I will
come again a fortnight hence to learn how you are."
"Oh! as you please. Are you going?"
And with an involuntary gesture Roncherolle put out his hand to the
count; but he contented himself with a slight inclination of the head,
saying:
"I will send somebody to you, monsieur, to help you."
Then he took his leave, still upset by what he had seen, saying to
himself:
"What a change! he is unrecognizable. Ah! he is in a still worse plight
than she!"
"If he waits until I get over the gout to fight with me," said
Roncherolle to himself, "I fancy that our duel is indefinitely
postponed. What a devil of a man!--Ah! that attack is passing away; that
is lucky.--Poor Brevanne; he has hardly changed at all; and in the
bottom of my heart I was secretly glad to see him, we used to be such
good friends, and I should have been so happy to renew our friendship!
He would not have turned his back on me, like all those others whom I
obliged long ago, and who will have nothing to say to me now, because I
lent them money and they don't want to repay it. But what is done is
done. Oh! these women! they are the cause of all the follies that we
commit."
Beauvinet opened the hall door and put his head in, saying:
"The gentleman who just went out said that monsieur had a bad attack and
needed attention; so I came----"
"Clear out and leave me in peace!" retorted Roncherolle, striking the
floor angrily with his cane.
The young man did not wait for that invitation to be repeated; he
disappeared like a stage shadow-figure, and slammed the door behind his
back.
"But he will come again in a fortnight," reflected the invalid after a
moment. "He is a man of his word, he won't fail to come; and if, as I
must hope, I am in condition to walk, I shall have to meet him.--Fight
with him! well, if he is obstinate about it, I will be equally
obstinate.--Who is coming to disturb me now, ten thousand devils?"
"Why, it's me," said Chicotin, entering the room; "I did your errand,
bourgeois, and I did it well, I flatter myself; in the first place, I
bought a superb bouquet; oh! it was A No. 1; it was worth four francs
rather than three. I didn't buy it of Mamzelle Violette, just to make
her mad; I don't mean to buy anything more of her. But you don't care
anything about that.--I went to Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges, and I found
Madame la Baronne de Grangeville, not in the twenties, but at 19, but
that don't make any difference. They let me in, and I found the lady
sitting in a great machine. To cut it short, when I said to her:
'Madame, it is Monsieur de Roncherolle who sends you this bouquet, with
all sorts of messages;' if you had seen what a jump that lady gave on
her--her divan, just like a carp in the frying pan; then she said:
'Monsieur de Roncherolle! what, is he in Paris? Tell him to come and see
me right away, as soon as possible; I shall expect him impatiently.'--I
answered: 'Madame, certainly, to be sure--that's what he means to do; he
will come as soon as he can stand on his pins'--oh, no! I didn't say
pins, I said legs; and then I bowed and left, and she didn't give me
anything."
"Well, keep the rest of the money I gave you."
"Thanks, bourgeois, thanks; and did your friend from Nogent come to see
you?"
"Yes, yes, he came, my friend. Do you know, Chicotin, that you're a
wretched chatterbox, and that I ought to pull your ears for giving
anyone my address without finding out whether I wanted you to?"
"Mon Dieu! did I make a fool of myself? Isn't your friend your friend
any longer?"
"Yes, you did make a fool of yourself; but I hope that you won't do it
again; meanwhile, you are responsible for my having to leave this house,
which, however, I hardly regret."
"Are you going to move?"
"Yes, in a few days, as soon as I can walk. But I don't propose to take
furnished lodgings again; he would find me, he would visit them all. I
mean to hire a room in some quiet house, and furnish it myself. That
won't take long; a bed, a table, two chairs and a bureau, that is all
that I need. Listen, Chicotin, while I am unable to go about, you must
find those things for me, so that I shall simply have to move in as soon
as I am cured. Do you understand,--just a small apartment, as neat and
clean as possible; a bedroom and a study, that will be enough for me."
"All right, bourgeois, I understand; I'll look about for you. In what
quarter?"
"I don't care."
"Oh! then I can find something easier. How much do you want to pay for
your lodgings?"
"Hum! as little as possible; the funds are decreasing every day, my
boy!"
"Do you want to go as high as eighty francs?"
"A quarter?"
"Oh, no! What next! I mean for a year."
"You can get nothing better than a garret, a kennel for that price. You
may go as high as two hundred francs,--two hundred and fifty."
"In that case, bourgeois, I'll find you something fine, a little palace;
I propose that you shall be more comfortable than you are now."
"You won't have much difficulty about that; try not to make me go up too
many stairs."
"Pardi! for two hundred and fifty francs you ought to be able to obtain
a magnificent lodging on the first floor."
"I don't think it. However, attend to it at once."
Three days after this conversation, Chicotin entered Roncherolle's room
with a triumphant air; he found him getting better, and walking about
the room.
"Here I am, bourgeois, I've found what you want. I think you'll be
satisfied; but lodgings are dearer than I thought; I couldn't find a
lodging on the first floor for your two hundred and fifty francs."
"Well, what have you found?"
"I have found two pleasant little rooms, for two hundred francs, no
more; fresh paper, not colored, but you can put one on; and a view--oh!
such a view! as good as if you was on the Arc de Triomphe; and all the
conveniences right at your door; and a waxed staircase, not up to the
top, but as far as the third floor."
"What floor is this apartment on?"
"Why, on the fifth, bourgeois!"
"Sacrebleu! I am not surprised that there is a good view; is that what
you call getting me a lodging near the ground?"