“Halloo! that makes matters worse. How came it about that Miss Henrietta
had rooms in your house?”
The concierge was evidently ill at ease; something was troubling him
sorely.
“Oh! that is as clear as sunlight,” he replied; “and, if you wish it,
I’ll tell you the story; you will see there is no harm done.”
“Well, let us hear.”
“Well, then, it was about a year ago this very day, when a gentleman
came in, well dressed, an eyeglass stuck in his eye, impudent like a
hangman’s assistant, in fact a thoroughly fashionable young man. He said
he had seen the notice that there was a room for rent up stairs, and
wanted to see it. Of course I told him it was a wretched garret, unfit
for people like him; but he insisted, and _I_ took him up.”
“To the room in which Miss Henrietta is now staying?”
“Exactly. I thought he would be disgusted; but no. He looked out of the
window, tried the door if it would shut, examined the partition-wall,
and at last he said, ‘This suits me; I take the room.’ And thereupon he
hands me a twenty-franc piece to make it a bargain. I was amazed.”
If M. Ravinet felt any interest in the story, he took pains not to show
it; for his eyes wandered to and fro as if his thoughts were elsewhere,
and he was heartily tired of the tedious account.
“And who is that fashionable young man?” he asked.
“Ah! that is more than I know, except that his name is Maxime.”
That name made the old merchant jump as if a shower-bath had suddenly
fallen upon his head. He changed color; and his small yellowish eyes had
a strange look in them.
But he recovered promptly, so promptly, that his visitor saw nothing;
and then he said in a tone of indifference,--
“The young man did not give you his family name?”
“No.”
“But ought you not to have inquired?”
“Ah, there is the trouble! I did not do it.”
Gradually, and by a great effort, Master Chevassat began to master
his embarrassment. It looked as if he were preparing himself for the
assault, and to get ready for the police-officer.
“I know it was wrong,” he continued; “but you would not have acted
differently in my place, my dear sir, I am sure. Just think! My room
belonged to M. Maxime, for I had his money in my pocket. I asked him
politely where he lived, and if there was any furniture to come. I
caught it nicely. He laughed me in the face, and did not even let me
finish my question. ‘Do I look,’ he said, ‘like a man who lives in a
place like this?’ And when he saw I was puzzled, he went on to tell me
that he took the room for a young person from the country, in whom he
took an interest, and that the contract and the receipts for rent must
all be made out in the name of Miss Henrietta. That was clear enough,
wasn’t it? Still it was my duty to know who Miss Henrietta was; so I
asked him civilly. But he got angry, and told me that was none of my
business, and that some furniture would be sent presently.”
He stopped, waiting for his host to express his approbation by a word or
a sign; but, as nothing came, he went on,--
“In fine, I did not dare to insist, and all was done as he wanted it
done. That very day a dealer in second-hand furniture brought the pieces
you have seen up stairs; and the day after, about eleven o’clock, Miss
Henrietta herself appeared. She had not much baggage, I tell you; she
brought every thing she owned in a little carpet-bag in her hand.”
The old merchant was stooping over the fire as if his whole attention
was given to the teakettle, in which the water was beginning to boil.
“It seems to me, my good friend,” he said, “that you did not act very
wisely. Still, if that is really all, I don’t think they are likely to
trouble you.”
“What else could there be?”
“How do I know? But if that young damsel had been carried off by M.
Maxime, if you were lending a hand in an elopement, I think you would
be in a bad box. The law is pretty strict about it, in the case of a
minor.”
The concierge protested with a solemn air.
“I have told you the whole truth,” he declared.
But Papa Ravinet did not by any means seem so sure of that.
“That is your lookout,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Still, you
may be sure they will ask you how it could happen that one of your
tenants should fall into such a state of abject poverty without your
giving notice to anybody.”
“Why, in the first place, I do not wait upon my lodgers. They are free
to do what they choose in their rooms.”
“Quite right, Master Chevassat! quite right! So you did not know that M.
Maxime no longer came to see Miss Henrietta?”
“He still came to see her.”
In the most natural manner in the world, Papa Ravinet raised his arms to
heaven, and exclaimed as if horror-struck,--
“What! is it possible? That handsome young man knew how the poor girl
suffered? he knew that she was dying of hunger?”
Master Chevassat became more and more troubled. He began to see what the
old merchant meant by his questions, and how unsatisfactory his answers
were.
“Ah! you ask too many questions,” he said at last. “It was not my duty
to watch over M. Maxime. As for Miss Henrietta, as soon as she is able
to move, the serpent! I tell you I’ll send her off pretty quickly!”