“Now, my dear Bélan, say on; we are on the boulevard, and you will not
disturb anybody; but I advise you to lower your voice a little, for I
don’t see the necessity of taking all the passers-by into your
confidence.”
“Lower my voice, my friend! it is very easy for you to say that. But
when one is as excited, as agitated as I am, it is perfectly justifiable
to shout; it relieves one. Oh! mon Dieu! how will all this end?”
“You begin to alarm me, Bélan. What is it all about, pray?”
“Parbleu! love, intrigue, a woman--always women! as you know, I care for
nothing else.”
I could not forbear a glance at the little man. I knew that he was very
well-built in his little way, and that many taller men had not calves as
plump and shapely as his. But his face was so ridiculous--his turned-up
nose, eyebrows absurdly high, heart-shaped mouth and big eyes formed
such a comical whole, that I could not understand how he could ever
inspire love; I could imagine it much more easily of an ugly face which
was pleasant or intellectual; but I suppose that I am not a good judge,
for Bélan was generally supposed to be a favorite with the ladies, and,
as he had just said himself, he was constantly mixed up in intrigue. To
be sure, Bélan was rich, and money is a potent auxiliary; many
self-styled seducers owe their success to it alone.
Bélan saw that I was scrutinizing him. He stood on tiptoe again, and
said to me in an offended tone, for the little man is easily hurt and
irritated:
“You look as if you were surprised that it is about a love intrigue.
Does it astonish you that I turn the heads of the ladies?”
“No, my dear fellow; but I am astonished that you are so excited, as it
is nothing more than a thing to which you must be accustomed.”
“Ah! but it is not always so serious as it is to-day.--You must know
that I am on the best of terms with Madame de Montdidier?”
“Faith, no, I didn’t know it.”
“What! you didn’t know that? A rake like you--a man after my own heart!”
“You do me too much honor.”
“To be sure, I haven’t mentioned it to anybody, for I am discretion
itself; but such things are always noticed; ordinarily the husband is
the only person who does not detect them.”
“Has he detected something this time?”
“Listen: Montdidier is a quick-tempered man, brutal even, so his wife
says; and more than that, horribly jealous.”
“All this does not prevent him from being----”
“No, such things never do prevent it; on the contrary, they make one
want--However, you will see that it necessitated extra precaution and
prudence. He is not one of the husbands who go half-way to meet you, who
constantly ask you to act as their wife’s escort, to go with her to the
play or to walk; one of those husbands, in short, who seem to say to
you: ‘Make me a cuckold; I should like it.’”
“It is true that there are some like that.”
“What I had to do was to deceive an Argus, an Othello; I had to invent
some stratagem day after day. Luckily I am never at a loss.”
“You are very fortunate.”
“To-day Montdidier dined out; a ceremonious dinner which he could not
avoid attending. Thereupon we laid our plans. His wife pretended to dine
early, and then she said that she was going to see her aunt; she did
leave the house, in fact, but she joined me at a little restaurant on
Boulevard du Temple. Everything passed off as we had agreed; we had an
excellent dinner, et cætera, et cætera!”
“Yes, many _et cæteras_, no doubt.”
“I beg you to believe that there were a great many. In the evening,
Hélène--that is the name of my inamorata----”
“The name suits her very well.”
“That is so, on my word! I hadn’t thought of that. Well, Hélène had to
go to join her Menelaus. Ha! ha! that is very amusing--Menelaus----”
“And you are Paris!”
“Just so, I am Paris. What a pity that I cannot laugh now!--Well, Hélène
was to join her husband at Giraud’s, who gives a reception to-night. You
know Giraud, a loquacious fellow, who thinks that he’s a business agent
because he has three boxes standing on his desk, and who has a mania for
trying to marry everybody, and that merely that he and his wife may be
present at the wedding?”
“Yes, I know him.”
“I was to go to Giraud’s too, but not until later; we did not want to
arrive together. People are talking enough already, and I have such a
terrible reputation.”
“Well?”
“Well, just now we sent out for a cab, and Hélène and I got into it. I
ought to have let her go alone; but what can you expect? It is always so
hard to part! That woman is exceedingly passionate.--Well, we were in
the cab. You know that Giraud lives on Rue Poissonnière; I had told the
driver to put me down at the corner of the boulevard. We were going
along quietly enough, when suddenly we felt that we were thrown against
the side of the cab; Hélène fell against the door, and I fell upon her;
it was all because of an accident to the cab--one of the hind wheels had
broken. We shouted like madmen. Hélène pushed me away with her hand,
which she thrust into my eye, saying that I was stifling her; and I said
to her: ‘Take your hand away; you are putting out my eye!’--Can’t you
imagine the picture?”
“I observe that you had ceased to say sweet things to each other.”
“Faith! that we had; I believe that we were on the point of insulting
each other. Just see how a broken wheel changes the nature of one’s
feelings. Luckily we were more frightened than hurt. A crowd gathered
about our cab. I succeeded in opening the door and jumped out first. But
imagine my stupefaction when I saw her husband before me--yes,
Montdidier himself, craning his neck to see what had happened.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“I haven’t an idea; when I saw him, I didn’t give him time to speak to
me; I turned so suddenly that I nearly upset a peddler who was behind
me. I pushed everybody out of my way, and ran to your room without
stopping.”
“And your unfortunate companion,--did you leave her there?”
“Would you have had me offer her my hand, and play the gallant with her
before her husband? It seems to me that I followed the wisest course.
But still, if Montdidier recognized me, and I am afraid he did; if his
wife called my name; if--for he must have seen his wife get out of the
cab--O heaven! such a hot-tempered, jealous man!”
“He is capable of doing his wife some violence.”
“His wife, yes, no doubt, and me too. She was forever saying to me when
we were together: ‘Ah! if my husband knew, he would kill me! he would
kill me!’”
“In that case he might very well try to kill you too.”
“It is terrible, it is most distressing. It isn’t that I am afraid to
fight--you know that it isn’t that, because I have proved my courage;
but the sensation, the scandal the thing will cause. And then, in
reality, I’ve nothing against Montdidier. He always received me
cordially, and invited me to dinner. I bear him no grudge at all.”
“You bore nobody a grudge but his wife.”
“No joking, my dear fellow; it is too serious a matter. This infernal
mania for intrigues! But it is all over now; I don’t propose to deceive
any more husbands. It is most absurd and it is immoral too; I am angry
with myself for ever having done it.--What! are you laughing at me
again?”
“Yes, I can’t help laughing; you remind me of the sailors who pray to
God during the storm and laugh at Him when the weather is fine.”
“I don’t know if I resemble a sailor, but I do know that I feel very
uncomfortable. This adventure so soon after dinner--the charlotte russe
lies heavy on my stomach. Come, my dear Blémont, let’s not laugh; help
me to get out of this fix; I will do as much for you, and you may need
me soon, for you are a terrible fellow too,--the terror of husbands.
Great God! how you have maltreated the poor devils!”
“If I can be of any service to you I shall be glad to, but I don’t quite
see how, unless I make Montdidier think that it was I who was in the cab
with his wife; but that would not rehabilitate the reputation of his
Hélène, and that is what we must think of first of all.”
“That is so, that is what we must think of; although, since she put her
finger in my eye, I am not in love with her at all. It is amazing how
ugly she looked to me at that moment!”
“She has not always looked ugly to you. She has been kind to you, and
you must try to acknowledge it by saving her good name.”
“Yes, she has been kind to me, but I don’t want any more of her favors.
Oh, even if it can all be straightened out, I say again, no more
flirtations with married women, no more illicit love-affairs. Unmarried
girls or widows, women without entanglements,--they’re all right; with
them one doesn’t have to hide all the time, to make long détours and
hire cabs.”
“All such dangers are what give piquancy to that sort of intrigue.”
“Thanks; that same piquancy is very pleasant. Oh! just let me get out of
this scrape, and I will turn over a new leaf, I will become
incorruptible so far as the ladies are concerned. But if I am to have
time to turn virtuous, Montdidier must not blow my brains out.--Come, my
friend, let us think what it is best to do.”
“Go to Giraud’s; you can see whether Montdidier is there with his wife;
and according to the way he behaves to you, you can easily judge whether
he recognized you, and how he has taken the thing.”
“Go there and expose myself to his fury, to his wrath, before everybody?
surely you don’t mean it, my friend?”
“A man of breeding doesn’t take society into his confidence in such
matters.”
“I told you that Montdidier was a brutal fellow.”
“If he thinks that he has been wronged, he won’t go to a party with his
wife.”
“That is true; but there is another way to make sure, and that is for
you to go to Giraud’s. If our husband and wife are there, you can watch
them, and you will be able to tell at once on what terms they are;
furthermore, you might slyly give the lady to understand that you have
just left me. What do you say? Oh! my dear Blémont, do me this favor; go
to Giraud’s.”
“I will do it solely to oblige you, for the business agent’s receptions
are not very interesting; and this evening I intended to go to see some
very agreeable ladies.”
“You can see your ladies to-morrow, they will be in the same place.
Besides, perhaps they are married ladies, and who knows that I am not
saving you from some unpleasant scrape?”
“To listen to you, one would think that no one ever called upon a lady
except with the design of making a conquest.”
“Oh! you see I know you. Come, Blémont, sacrifice your ladies to me;
consider that I am between life and death so long as I do not know what
to expect.”
“To oblige you, I will go to Giraud’s.”
“You are a friend indeed. It is almost nine o’clock, and the reception
is just at its height. To-night there is to be singing and playing. Be
prudent, and if our couple are there, watch them closely.”
“I’m like the confidential friend in a melodrama.”
“I will wait for you at the café on the corner of the boulevard; I will
drink a glass of sugar and water. If everything goes well, if I can
safely show myself, you will have the kindness to tell me so.”
“Very good.”
We quickened our pace, and when we reached the corner of Rue
Poissonnière, Bélan grasped my hand and shook it violently.
“My friend,” he said, “I will wait for you at the café opposite. Don’t
say that I am there, don’t mention my name.”
“Never fear.”
I had taken a few steps when I felt someone grasp me from behind; it was
Bélan again; he had run after me, and he said most earnestly:
“My dear Blémont, I trust that this adventure will cause you to reflect
seriously, that it will reform you as it will me. We must mend our ways,
my friend. For my own part, I swear on the faith of Ferdinand Bélan,
that the loveliest woman in Paris, if she is not free----”
I did not wait for the end of the little man’s sermon; I smiled and left
him, and walked up the street toward Monsieur Giraud’s.