obtain greater consideration, was an individual of this type. He had
wormed himself into Albert's friendship, as men worm themselves into the
friendship of those who own châteaux or large estates, or anything else
that is worth preying upon. He had not a sou, and he was supposed to
have at least fifteen thousand francs a year; he was the son of a
butcher in the suburbs, and was believed to be of noble birth; he had no
knowledge of music or of drawing, but posed as a master of all such
subjects; in fact, he had received very little education, and he was
looked upon as a profound scholar. But, on the other hand, he had
certain qualities which, in society, often replace all others: an
imperturbable self-assurance, and the art of turning the most trivial
circumstances to his advantage.
Monsieur Tobie Pigeonnier was one of a very poor and very large family,
and had sworn to make his fortune. To that end, at the age of eight he
walked about the streets picking up pins, which he sold when he had
obtained a certain quantity. Impressed by his business instincts, one of
his uncles had taken charge of him and made him his clerk, with no wages
beyond his board and lodging; still the young man succeeded in saving
money, which seems a difficult task, when he earned none; but he sold
his uncle's old clothes, which were the only perquisites of his
position. In order to make those perquisites more valuable, by advancing
the time when his patron's garments should be turned over to him, he
often passed a large part of the night rubbing them with pumice stone,
so that the cloth soon became as thin as paper and began to give way on
all sides. But one morning, when the uncle happened to rise earlier than
usual, he found his nephew engaged in polishing the back of his coat,
and instantly turned him out of doors.
Tobie thereupon risked his little hoard in a speculation. A friend of
his had just opened a pastry-cook's shop. _Galette_ was just becoming
fashionable in Paris; several large fortunes owed their origin to the
fondness of the Parisians for that delicacy. Pigeonnier risked his
funds, and at the end of a year he withdrew ten times as much.
Thereupon, finding himself in a position to cut a figure in the world,
Tobie became a dealer in chestnuts, on commission; but, despite his
business ability, he made much less money than when he was the
pastry-cook's partner; moreover, vanity had taken possession of him, and
he had said to himself, like many another: "To become rich, it is
necessary to appear rich; water flows to the river; consequently, in
order to make money, I must act as if I already had a lot of it."--That
is why young Tobie took so much pains with his dress, and affected the
manners and habits of a wealthy dandy. To be sure, only the fronts of
his shirts were of fine linen; the rest was of a very coarse, cheap
quality; the head of his cane was hollow, his eyeglass German silver,
his pin paste; but they all looked like the real thing. Furthermore,
Pigeonnier never lost an opportunity to say:
"I dined at Véry's. I am going to breakfast at Véfour's. I sup to-night
at the Maison-Dorée. I was at the Opéra last night. I am going to the
Français to-night. I mean to go to the Bouffes to-morrow."
Whereas, in fact, Tobie Pigeonnier usually slipped into the most modest
restaurants, except when he dined at home on a loaf of bread and a piece
of Italian cheese; which did not prevent him from going to walk
afterward in the garden of the Palais-Royal, with a toothpick in his
mouth, and saying to all his acquaintances, as he unbuttoned two or
three buttons of his waistcoat:
"On my word, I believe I ate too much dinner; I am suffocating. They
treat you very well at Douix's. But it's foolish to eat so much. I am a
shameful glutton!"
And if he went to the theatre, it was only to take his stand under the
peristyle just as the curtain fell, in order to hear what was said of
the play; and when he did venture to buy a ticket, it was only because
he could get it extremely cheap, there being only a scene or two to be
played.
We have said enough to make it clear that he was very far from having as
many mistresses as he claimed to have. Although he was rather a
good-looking youth, especially in the eyes of those persons who like
noses shaped like a parrot's beak, he rarely ventured to embark upon a
love affair; because, as a general rule, such affairs require, first of
all, that one should have money in one's pocket. A young man without a
sou may inspire a passion, form a liaison, have a mistress who really
loves him; and under such circumstances he is entitled to flatter
himself that he is loved on his own account; but he cannot change
mistresses very often--in short, he can hardly be what we call a man _à
bonnes fortunes_. That is a calling which requires a constant
expenditure of money and of health. Tobie asked nothing better than to
spend the latter, but preferred to hoard his money.
When his fashionable friends proposed to him to join a party of
pleasure, or to dine with them, he always found some pretext for
refusing; but this time, the hope of making a conquest of Madame Plays
overcame his usual reserve; for in that lady's acquaintance he foresaw
many opportunities to advance his fortunes. Monsieur Plays was a
commission merchant, and might offer him frequent opportunities to make
profitable investments. All these considerations combined had induced
Tobie to accept Albert's proposition; and although he was very short of
money, he had decided also to be one of the dinner party at the
Maison-Dorée.
Now, let us join the three young men in the Passage des Panoramas, where
they were waiting for the two others whom Célestin had arranged to meet
there.
"There's always a crowd in this passage," said Albert. "In summer,
people walk through; in winter, they come here to walk, because the
boulevards are muddy. If it rains, they come here for shelter; if the
sun is very hot, they come here for shade; so that there's always a
crowd here."
"Let's look at the statuettes. You told us, Tobie, didn't you, that
somebody was making a caricature of you?"
"Not a caricature, but a bust, life size."
"That won't be so amusing."
"Have we got to wait for Mouillot and Balivan, I wonder! Mouillot is
never on time."
"Oh! it isn't half-past five yet."
"Let's look at the new songs."
"That is to say, the new lithographs; for a song doesn't sell nowadays,
you know, unless it has some pretty picture on the cover."
"That's not very flattering for the music."
"But it's a good thing for the artists. Brûlé's shop, Frère's successor,
is always full of fascinating things of that sort. Look! there are some
beautiful _albums._ I refer to the binding."
Tobie was standing in an ecstasy of admiration before a manikin in front
of a draper's shop.
"Is that your bust you are gazing at?" asked Célestin, laughingly.
"You seem inclined to jest, messieurs; but I would like to resemble this
manikin. I mean, in the way he's dressed. Just see how beautifully that
frock-coat fits his back! It must be delightful to be dressed like
that! I would gladly pay sixty francs for a coat that squeezed my waist
that way."
"You can be squeezed for less than that. But you may set your mind at
rest, young Pigeonnier; I assure you that you look a good deal like a
manikin."
Tobie glanced at Célestin with an expression that said:
"You would be very glad to look like me!"
At that moment, Albert halted in front of a cap and ribbon shop, in
which he spied two rather attractive young women behind the counter. He
exchanged meaning glances with one of them, while the mistress of the
shop was trying caps on a decidedly plain person who had just come in,
and who found none of them to her taste, because she could not make up
her mind that any one of them made her pretty.
As the throng about them became more dense, Tobie took his companions by
the arm, saying:
"If you stand still like this, messieurs, look out for your pockets. The
Passage des Panoramas is very pretty, very brilliant, and much
frequented; but I must warn you that it is one of the places where the
greatest number of thefts is committed every day. When an honest
bourgeois stops in front of Susse's shop, or in front of Marquis's
wonderful _postiches_, if he doesn't keep his hands on his fob and his
pockets all the time, he is sure to find himself minus watch, purse,
handkerchief, and snuffbox. Between six and nine at night, when the
promenaders are most numerous, the thefts are most frequent; at that
time, you see in these galleries numbers of men in blouses and caps, who
certainly have no business in this quarter, and who wouldn't walk in
this passage unless they carried on a criminal industry here."
"You are right, Tobie; and I can see at this moment some gentlemen with
faces in which I should have very little confidence. Come, Albert,
come--are you still in love with that shopgirl? Ah! I see our
friends--and Dupétrain is with them! Good! we shall have some sport. He
always has some extraordinary story to tell."
"Who is Monsieur Dupétrain?" inquired Tobie.
"Don't you know Dupétrain? Well, upon my word! All Paris knows him. He's
a very good fellow--who is constantly having wonderful adventures. He's
a frantic adept of magnetism. He'll put you to sleep, and make you walk
in your sleep, if you like. Come, messieurs; come, I say!"
Three young men, walking arm in arm, halted in front of Albert and his
companions. They greeted one another with smiles, exchanging handshakes
and puffs of tobacco smoke.
The new-comers were: first, Mouillot, head clerk in a business house; a
tall, fair-haired, red-cheeked youth, with an amiable, jovial face,
whose appearance pointed him out at once as a bon vivant.
Next, Balivan, portrait painter; a typical artist's face, with unusual
features, which could in all sincerity be called ugly, and a bearing in
harmony with his features. He held himself sidewise, with his head sunk
on one shoulder; he had a jerky walk, one leg always lagging behind; and
he waved his arms about in space, so that at a distance they resembled
the wings of a windmill. But, with all that, his face had much character
and expression; his forehead was that of a man who thinks, and in his
eyes there shone the fire of intelligence, which, in a man, excuses
ugliness and often triumphs over beauty.
Balivan had genuine artistic talent, which is never a disadvantage; but
he was extremely lazy, a not infrequent trait among artists; in
addition, he was very heedless, always making blunders, and
extraordinarily absent-minded.
The third of the party was he whom Célestin called Dupétrain. He was a
man between thirty and forty, with a square, bony face, and yellow skin,
extremely ugly at first sight, and even more so when examined closely.
His broad nose lay flat on his cheeks, like a negro's; his enormous
mouth became a veritable cavern when he spoke, because, in order to give
greater weight to his words, he articulated every syllable with a
painstaking care that was very disagreeable to his hearers. His head was
adorned with a forest of hair, which he always wore very long, and which
gave him some resemblance to a lion; his small, sunken, glassy eyes
seemed to be engaged in a constant effort to fascinate or at least to
magnetize you. Such was the individual who answered to the name of
Dupétrain.
"Ah! here's Pigeonnier!" exclaimed Mouillot, bringing his hand down on
the corpulent youth's shoulder. "Does he dine with us?"
"Yes, messieurs; I am to have that pleasure."
"Famous! the man we can never get--who's always engaged."
"I have given up everything to-day to join you."
"But he doesn't tell you all. There's another affair--but, no! we will
speak of that at dinner--without mentioning the lady's name, of course;
for we must be discreet--eh, Tobie?"
"Where do we dine?"
"At the Maison-Dorée."
VI
A STAG DINNER PARTY
The young men established themselves in one of the pleasant salons of
the restaurant. Mouillot called for pen and ink to prepare the menu, and
Tobie whispered to Albert:
"We mustn't forget my letter for Madame Plays."
"True," replied Albert.--"Waiter, some note paper."
"Do you propose to order the dinner, too?" said Mouillot. "Can't you
trust me to do it in style?"
"To be sure; I am going to write something else."
"A billet-doux, eh? Oh! for heaven's sake, let the women alone! We are
here to eat and laugh."
"This is how it is, messieurs. There's----"
"Oh! my dear fellow," cried Tobie, hurrying to Albert's side, "let's not
compromise anybody! we agreed to be close-mouthed!"
"So long as he doesn't mention the lady's name," said Célestin, "I don't
see why he can't tell the story."
"Surely I can. I am turning over one of my mistresses to Tobie,
messieurs,--assuming, of course, that she is willing to accept him as a
substitute."
"You can't be certain of that," laughed Mouillot; "for he hasn't the
figure."
"Do you say you've been drawn in the conscription?" inquired Balivan,
who had not heard the beginning of the conversation.
"No, no; I have bought a substitute.--Come, Albert, write my letter; for
I am afraid we shall hardly be in the mood for writing after dinner."
"I am sending Tobie to an assignation in my place," said Albert, "and I
am going to give him a letter of introduction."
"Well, you can write your letter while I am writing the order for
dinner. It will give you inspiration. Here come the writing materials."
Albert sat down opposite Mouillot, each of them took a pen; and while
one sought words to write to his mistress, the other looked over the
bill of fare.
Albert began, reading aloud as he wrote:
"Charming creature!"
Mouillot in like manner announced each dish that he selected.
"_Potage aux bistres._"
"You know how dearly I love you."
"For three--that will be enough."
"Your image is always before me."
"Calf's head _en tortue_."
"When I see you, I instantly become----"
"_Andouillette de Troyes._"
"Drunk with joy."
"With salmon."
"But I am detained at this moment by urgent business, dear heart."
"Truffled turkey."
"To save you the annoyance of waiting for me at our rendezvous----"
"Lobster----"
"I send one of my intimate friends."
"As fresh as possible."
"You can trust him absolutely."
"If it smells, we shall send it back."
"He will escort you to a place we have agreed on----"
"Asparagus----"
"And will stay with you till I come."
"With white sauce."
"I will join you as soon as I possibly can."
"Sweets, dessert, champagne."
"I send you by him a thousand assurances of my love."
"Serve everything hot."
"With such a letter of recommendation, it seems to me that you ought to
receive a warm welcome," said Albert, as he signed his name.
"I call that a well-diversified little dinner, messieurs," said
Mouillot, handing the order to the waiter.
As for Tobie, he thanked Albert and carefully pocketed the missive that
was to open the way for him to a piquant intrigue.
"Above all things, serve the dinner promptly, and without interruption,"
he called to the waiter.
"Mon Dieu! why are we in such a hurry?" said the artist, who had already
seated himself at the table and was blowing his nose in his napkin,
which he mistook for his handkerchief. "For my part, I like to sit a
long while at dinner."
"So do I; but I have an assignation for this evening."
"Well, upon my word! there's Balivan using his napkin for a
handkerchief! That's the beginning of his freaks. We shall see some
amusing sights, if he goes on."
"My napkin! Faith, that's true! I am always doing that; and the worst of
it is that I did it not long ago at a grand dinner, at a banker's house,
where there were marquises and deputies. Suddenly I saw that everybody
was looking at me with a curious expression. Imagine my confusion, when
a very pretty woman, who was sitting beside me, said in a most amiable
tone: 'Of course, you are doing that for a wager, monsieur?'--'What,
madame?'--'Using your napkin as a handkerchief.'--Then, of course, I
realized my blunder; and what do you suppose I did, in my embarrassment?
I put the napkin in my pocket! Luckily, everybody began to laugh, for
they saw how absent-minded I was."
"Meanwhile," said Mouillot, "I request as a favor that I may not be
seated next to Balivan, because absent-minded people are very unpleasant
neighbors at table.--You ask him to pass the olives, and he'll pour
water in your wine. If you want bread, he'll pass you the pepper. It's a
constant succession of disappointments."
"Have you ever been magnetized?" inquired Monsieur Dupétrain, fixing his
glassy stare on the painter.
"Oh! go to the devil with your magnetism! As if I took any stock in it!"
"Take any stock in it! Why, my dear fellow, don't you know that the
power of magnetism is absolutely proved? that the most distinguished
people are the most fervent adepts of Mesmer? that ladies of the highest
social position go to the magnetizers now to be put to sleep, as they
used to go to be mesmerized?"
"Parbleu! that's a convincing authority to appeal to! Women--who adore
anything that promises a novel kind of sensation, and who seek pleasure
instead of truth."
"But I'll wager, Balivan, that I can put you to sleep, incredulous as
you are!"
"Put me to sleep! That is very possible; but it would be much harder to
wake me."
"I say, messieurs, aren't you ready to stop talking magnetism?" cried
Mouillot; "I supposed that we dined together to enjoy ourselves. For
heaven's sake, Dupétrain, don't put us to sleep yet! Later, if you
choose.--To the table, my friends!"
They took their seats, Tobie among the first. He examined the tableware,
the hors-d'oeuvre, the glasses of different sizes placed in front of
each guest, and an ecstatic expression lighted up his face. From the way
that he ate and drank, and lingered lovingly over every mouthful, one
could divine that he was perfectly content, and that his thoughts took
this turn:
"As I am here, I must make the most of it. If I spend money, at all
events it will be of some benefit to me."
"Aren't we going to have any madeira?" said Célestin, after finishing
his soup.
"I should say so! What do you take us for?" replied Mouillot.
"Yes, yes! madeira!" cried Pigeonnier. "When I am in the vein, I don't
deny myself anything."
"Waiter! some madeira!"
"It is here, messieurs; what wine will you have next?"
"Beaune première, to begin with. After that, we will see."
"That's right!" said Tobie, gulping down the madeira. "Beaune première,
the best there is! Is anything too good for us? Pass me the olives. Pass
me the anchovies. Pass me the tunny."
"The devil! you might as well say pass me everything! How little Tobie
pitches in! Be careful, my dear fellow; it isn't prudent to have your
stomach too full when you are going straight away to an assignation."
"Oh! I have room enough. I'd like some madeira."
"Monsieur has a full, round face, which doesn't indicate a very nervous
man," said Dupétrain, looking at Tobie; "but I'll bet that I can put him
to sleep."
"Dupétrain," cried Mouillot, "you will be fined five francs every time
that you mention magnetism during dinner."
"Oho! we're forbidden to speak now, are we?"
"Tell us something amusing--we would like that.--But you don't say
anything, Albert! Have you an unrequited passion in your heart?"
"I, a passion! _Fichtre!_ no--but I---- By the way, waiter, I expect a
messenger. Let me know when anyone asks for me."
"The same with me," said Célestin.
"And me," cried Tobie, stuffing a handful of olives into his pocket;
"let me know, waiter--for it's very important. I am Monsieur Tobie
Pigeonnier. A messenger will ask for me."
"Do you propose to put all the olives in your pocket, Tobie?"
"I like them pocketed,[B] messieurs; they're much better."
"Yes," laughed Célestin, "and then, you have some the next day."
"Ah! they are better pocketed, are they?" said the artist. "Then I must
try some."
And as the radishes were passed to Balivan a moment later, he seized a
handful and put them in his pocket.
The first courses were discussed with great zest by the young men; but
when the truffled turkey arrived, their enthusiasm had abated in some
degree; Tobie alone seemed as hungry as ever, and filled his plate with
truffles, crying:
"On my word, one can dine mighty well here!"
"You don't seem to be sure of yourself, Pigeonnier," said Albert, with a
smile.
"Peste!" said Mouillot; "how you do work your oven!"
"Well, for all that," interposed Dupétrain, "I'll bet that I can put
monsieur to sleep."
"Five francs, Dupétrain!"
"Give me some beaune, Balivan. Damnation! I knew it; he's mixed it with
madeira! Would you like me to give you an idea of that fellow's
absent-mindedness, messieurs? Not long ago, I went to see him during the
day; his servant said: 'Monsieur is taking a bath; he sent out for one,
and he's in it now.'--'Well,' I said, 'that needn't prevent my speaking
to him. Men aren't afraid to look at one another in the water.'--So I
went into the room where my gentleman was bathing. What did I see?
Balivan, fully dressed, and with his boots on, seated in his bath and
quietly reading a newspaper, absolutely unconscious that there was
anything peculiar in his method of bathing."
"Ha! ha! ha! that is too much; we might say, like your fair neighbor at
dinner: it was a bet, wasn't it, Balivan?"
"No, messieurs," the artist calmly replied; "I give you my word that I
hadn't noticed what I was doing. If they had brought me my bath in
decent season, it wouldn't have happened. But when I found that it
didn't come, I went out; when I came back, it was all ready; I was in a
hurry, so I just glanced at the clock, took the _Gazette des Tribunaux_,
and jumped in. That infernal newspaper was at the bottom of it; for I
was reading a very interesting case, and all I remember now is that the
water seemed very heavy."
"You may be a somnambulist," said Dupétrain; "very likely you were
asleep when you got into the bath."
"Asleep! damnation! I tell you, I had just been out to do an errand; I
was in a great hurry, for I hadn't had my breakfast, and I got into the
bath without thinking of undressing."
During this conversation, young Tobie, determined to waste no time, had
slipped into his napkin a large part of the truffles that were on his
plate, and, having wiped them carefully, stuffed them into his pocket.
Then he said:
"Just pass me the turkey again, messieurs; I would like a few of the
truffles with this chicken."
"I say, Pigeonnier, this is too much; you mean to outdo yourself, my
dear fellow, to leave Albert in the shade!"
"Tudieu! what an appetite!" cried Mouillot. "That blade ought to pay for
two; he beats us all."
"You see, messieurs, I am very fond of truffles."
"So we perceive."
Albert consulted his watch, and said, with an impatient gesture:
"Why doesn't that messenger come?"
"Neither of them has come yet."