Albert to himself.
However, he restrained himself, and, merely glancing at the glass, cried
with an affected enthusiasm which closely resembled mockery:
"Oh! it is magnificent! Great God! how beautiful it is! I would like
right well to know where monsieur finds such beautiful things!"
The Swede bit his lips, but said nothing.
Madame Baldimer continued to extol the opera glass; and Albert, glancing
at the shawl, which lay neglected on a chair, said to himself:
"God! what fools men are sometimes!"
But the conversation languished. Madame Baldimer made but a feeble
effort to sustain it. The Swede said a word or two at once, never more
than that; and Albert contented himself with ejaculating at intervals:
"Mon Dieu! what an opera glass! it is dazzling!"
Whereupon the count made an imperceptible grimace, and glanced furtively
at the young man.
It was long after twelve o'clock. The gentlemen seemed no more disposed
to give way to each other than on the day of the fan. Suddenly Madame
Baldimer rose.
"It is very late, messieurs," she said; "I am going to bed, and I bid
you good-night!"
The two men rose to salute her.
The lovely widow took occasion to whisper to Albert, as she asked him to
hand her the shawl:
"That man is insufferable to me; try to rid me of him."
Albert simply bowed, without a word.
Then, as she passed the count, she said in his ear:
"That young man is always at my heels; pray find some way to relieve me
of his presence."
The Swede, in his turn, made a low bow.
Thereupon she left the two gentlemen in the boudoir, each reflecting
upon what she had just whispered to him. They glanced at each other from
time to time--Albert with a mocking expression, the count with a slight
frown.
After some minutes had passed thus, the Swede decided to speak first. He
walked up to Albert, and said to him, still in a most ceremonious tone:
"It seems to me, monsieur, that you meant to be understood as making fun
of the opera glass which I presented to Madame Baldimer."
"Faith! yes," the young man airily replied; "after all, monsieur, that's
as good a motive as any! and I fancy that we both understand what we
have in view."
"Perfectly, monsieur. At what hour to-morrow, if you please?"
"Oh! not too early, if it's all the same to you; for I am a little lazy
about getting up in the morning."
"Very good--say ten o'clock?"
"Ten o'clock it is, at Porte Saint-Mandé; there are a number of very
pleasant, solitary little nooks in that neighborhood, and it's less
common than the Bois de Boulogne. Is that satisfactory to you?"
"Entirely so; and your weapons?"
"Whatever you choose."
"Pistols, then."
"Agreed."
"I shall have one second; I believe that one is sufficient, in this
country?"
"We are at liberty to have two; but, as you say, one is enough."
"Until to-morrow, then!"
"Until to-morrow, monsieur le comte! and now, I believe that there is
nothing further to detain us here."
The Swede bowed with an almost affable expression, and opened the door
of the boudoir, pausing to allow Albert to go out first; but he would
not. After a contest of politeness, the count finally went first, and
they soon reached the foot of the staircase.
The concierge was asleep; before he opened the door, Albert produced a
dainty cigar case from his pocket and took out a cigar, saying:
"I am in the habit of smoking every night before I go to bed."
"I am very much annoyed," said the count; "I have forgotten my case, and
I also am fond of smoking when I go home at night."
"In that case, allow me to offer you a cigar, monsieur le comte," said
Albert, offering the Swede his case. "I am sure you will like them; they
are very good indeed."
Monsieur Dahlborne bowed, and took a cigar. Meanwhile, the concierge had
opened the door, and Albert lighted his cigar at the lamp in the porch.
When they were in the street, noticing that his rival had no light, he
offered the lighted end of his cigar, and the count lighted his by it;
then they bowed again, with the utmost courtesy, repeating:
"Until to-morrow!"
"At ten o'clock."
"At Porte Saint-Mandé."
XXI
TOBIE AS CHEVALIER
Tobie left Bastringuette, convinced that the lady who desired to see him
the next evening could be no other than she whom he had failed to
triumph over on the Champs-Élysées. He determined to be very prompt at
the rendezvous, and not to take his charmer to a private dining-room
overlooking a mountebank's booth.
The young man passed the whole of the next day dressing and curling and
perfuming himself.
"To-night," he thought, "the voluptuous Plays shall not escape me;
indeed, as she herself has made the assignation, it is probable that it
is not her intention to be too cruel. I shall have in her such a
mistress as I desire. She is rich, and they say she is capable of doing
insane things for a man she loves. Suppose she should be willing to
redeem my olive from Varinet--why not?--until Aunt Abraham gives me an
interest in her business. Faith! I feel disposed to be very amorous."
The night arrived in due time; Tobie, having become less timid since he
had a love affair in prospect, left his lodgings just at dusk. It was
only half-past eight, and he was walking slowly in the direction of
Place des Italiens, when, at the corner of Rue du Mont-Blanc, his
attention was attracted by a lady crossing the street, whose figure
resembled that of the person he expected to meet; quickening his pace a
little, he soon overtook her, and found that it was, in truth, the
sentimental Herminie. He at once approached her and offered his arm,
saying:
"I was on my way to the rendezvous; you see how zealous I am, for it is
not nine o'clock; but it seems that we are equally eager for the
meeting."
Madame Plays started back, surprised to see a stranger offer her his
arm; but in an instant she recognized Pigeonnier, and exclaimed:
"What! is it you, monsieur? Are you on your way again to replace your
friend--that blackguard Albert? Ah! what a monster that fellow is! how I
detest him!"
"Why, no, madame; I have come on my own account; I am on my way to the
Pâté des Italiens, as you know."
"As I know? What difference does it make to me where you are going?"
"Why, don't you understand? I was going to the Pâté des Italiens, at the
time you mentioned."
"Oh! you weary me with your _pâté_, monsieur! I don't understand a word
you say."
"What, madame! wasn't it you who gave me a rendezvous for this evening,
at nine o'clock?"
"A rendezvous! I! Why, you're mad, monsieur! I never gave you a
rendezvous!"
Tobie was petrified; he saw that he had formed false hopes; but,
determined to make the most of his meeting with Madame Plays, he
rejoined:
"I was told that a pretty woman wished to see me. The description which
was given me of the person was so seductive--I thought it was you--and
notwithstanding the somewhat--er--savage way you treated me the last
time I saw you, it made me very happy to think that I was going to see
you again."
Madame Plays was never insensible to a compliment; she could not help
laughing as she glanced at the short, stout youth; then she replied,
with an irritated air:
"Oh! you're not the one I have a grudge against; but that monster, that
ungrateful wretch! Can you conceive such a thing as his making a fool of
me again?"
"Who, pray?"
"Why, Albert, monsieur--your friend Albert."
"Oh! Albert--it's so long since I saw him."
"Well, I have seen him again, I have had that happiness. I didn't want
to receive him, I had given orders that he wasn't to be admitted--and if
it hadn't been for that idiot of a Monsieur Plays!"
"I am very curious to hear the story."
"Very well; I will take your arm, and tell it to you."
"Ah! how kind you are!"
"And perhaps----"
"Perhaps---- Oh! please finish the sentence, divine creature----"
"First of all, I want to be revenged on Albert, I give you warning; and
the man who should avenge me--oh! I don't know what I would not do for
him!"
"O God! you have given me a glimpse of heaven, of Olympus! I will avenge
you, I give you my word; yes, I will avenge you twice over; you will see
what an avenger I am!"
"Enough! Bless my heart, what a libertine you are! You think at once of
things that----"
"And what do you expect a man to think of when he's beside a pretty
woman?--of roasting coffee?"
"Yes, monsieur, yes, I saw Albert four days ago; he called on me, and I
refused to receive him. Then what does he do? He goes to see my husband,
and makes himself at home in his office;--my husband is so foolishly
good-natured! he made Albert welcome, and I went there, by chance, and
found him there with a lovely bouquet. He made such repentant eyes at
me, that I was kind-hearted enough to allow myself to be moved. In a
word, I consented to let him go with me to my boudoir; there he
said--some pleasant things--nothing to speak of--then begged me to show
him the lovely cashmere shawl that I wore at Count Dahlborne's party. I
yielded to that caprice, and monsieur went away, making an appointment
with me for the next day, which he did not keep."
"That was abominable!"
"But that is not all. I have learned since that he has bought the only
shawl like mine in Paris, probably to give it to some woman who was
pleased with mine. So, you see, he came back to me solely to see my
shawl; and, since then, I have written to him six times, and he has not
come again, nor has he even deigned to write a word in reply!"
"Ah! such conduct is very blameworthy."
"Say rather that it is worthy of a street urchin."
"I dared not say it, but I thought so. And you, who deserve to be so
madly adored! As for the letter of the other day, I had not read it; I
handed it to you in all confidence. If I had known that it contained
anything offensive, you must be convinced that I would not have
undertaken to deliver it."
"I believe you. But to come just to see the shawl, to buy one like it to
give to some woman, to make an appointment with me and not keep it, and
not to answer a single one of my letters--oh! that is too much, and I am
an outraged woman! that is to say, monsieur, I must have blood! For lack
of a better champion, I would have appealed to my husband; I would have
worked him up to the point of fighting with Albert. Yes, he would have
fought, for he does everything I want him to. But, all things
considered, I prefer that he should not be the one to avenge me; that
wouldn't be exciting enough; and as you offer yourself, I accept you."
Tobie was rather embarrassed; he was not expecting that Madame Plays
would demand that he fight a duel with Albert; he did not suppose that
she contemplated such a serious vengeance as that, and he feared that he
had gone too far.
The lady observed his indecision, and at once continued:
"You hesitate! you are not worthy of a glance from me. Release my arm,
monsieur, and do not speak to me, do not look at me again; I do not know
you!"
"Why, no! no! I am not hesitating," cried Tobie, detaining the arm that
was passed through his; "I will do whatever you wish; I will fight with
Albert, since that will give you pleasure."
"Very well. You will kill him!"
"I can't promise to kill him outright, but I will do all that I possibly
can."
"Well, you will wound him at least, and bring me one of his ears."
"Oho! do you really want one of his ears? It seems to me that I might
bring you something better than that."
"I want some proof of your victory."
"Oh! I will bring you one, I promise you."
"Then you will be--my chevalier."
"Couldn't I be that at once; I only ask to be armed."
"When you have conquered Albert."
"Give me the kiss, at least."
"Can you think of such a thing, here, on the boulevard?"
"Let us take a cab; one can be created a chevalier very nicely in a cab;
why, one of my friends was admitted into the Freemasons in a
_citadine_."
"No, monsieur, no; I won't get into a cab with you now. You see, I know
you; you are too enterprising; when you have avenged me, it will be a
different matter. Then I shall feel bound to reward you."
"Ah! mon Dieu! how I wish that that time had come!"
"It depends entirely upon you whether it comes soon."
"It won't be long, I promise you. I will go in search of Albert, and you
will have news of him very quickly. Either you will be avenged, or I
will perish in the attempt!"
"Bravo! you are a man of spirit. Come and tell me the result of your
duel--for you will be the victor, I have no doubt. You may come up to my
boudoir by the narrow staircase on the right in the courtyard; it is on
the first floor. Say to my maid: 'I am Tobie,' and you will be
admitted."
"Ah! I shall swoon with joy on the threshold of your boudoir!"
"I should say that you would do much better to come in."
"I will come in, adorable creature! I will come in, and you will be
obliged to turn me out!"
"And now, adieu! I must leave you; I am going to take a cab and pass the
evening with one of my friends."
"And you won't allow me to go with you?"
"No. Adieu!"
Madame Plays hurried away, and Tobie, who had entirely forgotten the
rendezvous on Place des Italiens, returned to his lodgings.
"Most assuredly I shall not fight with Albert," he said to himself; "I
haven't the slightest inclination to do it. But I will tell him of my
meeting with Madame Plays, as well as her proposition to me. Albert is a
good fellow, he likes a joke, and he will help me to invent some way of
making her think that we have fought. Oh, yes!--but my olive! However,
it isn't Albert that I owe the money to, after all, and I'll tell him
Varinet hasn't shown up."
Nine o'clock was just striking, the next morning, when Tobie called at
the Vermoncey mansion and asked Albert's servant if his friend was
visible. The servant ushered Tobie into the young man's bedroom, where
he was still asleep.
"It's I, my dear Albert," said Tobie, speaking very loudly; "if you want
to sleep some more, don't wake up; I will go away."
Albert woke, rubbed his eyes, recognized Tobie, and murmured sleepily:
"What! is it you, Tobie? where in the devil have you come from?"
"From home, of course."
"And why didn't you come last evening to Place des Italiens, where
somebody was waiting for you?"
"Oho! how do you know that?"
"Parbleu! because it was Mouillot, Balivan, Célestin, and I who made the
appointment with you through Bastringuette."
"Really?"
"We meant to play a practical joke on you, and we got ourselves arrested
and put in the guardhouse!"
"Ha! ha! charming! delicious!"
The little man twisted himself about in an easy-chair, and laughed till
he cried.
"But tell me why you have come to see me so early in the day? have you
come to redeem your fetich? Perhaps you don't know Varinet's address?"
"I didn't come for that, my friend. I have another reason; I have a
favor to ask of you."
"You want to borrow five hundred francs?"
"That isn't what I came for, but if you are willing to lend it to me, it
would be very welcome just at this time."
"Well, why did you come and disturb my sleep?"
"In the first place, my friend, it's late, and I wouldn't have waked you
if your servant hadn't told me that you had something on hand this
morning."
"Great heaven!" cried Albert, hastily throwing off the bedclothes; "you
remind me! what time is it, pray?"
"About a quarter past nine."
"I haven't a minute to lose, for I have a duel this morning at ten! Gad!
I must make haste."
"What's that? you are going to fight a duel?" said Tobie, involuntarily
recoiling from his friend, and concluding that Albert was aware of
Madame Plays's hopes; "why, no, Albert; no, you mustn't fight; it isn't
worthwhile--a burlesque duel is all that's necessary."
"What in the devil are you talking about? do you mean to say that you
know the cause of my duel with Count Dahlborne?"
"Count Dahlborne? oho! you're going to fight with him, are you?"
"To be sure."
Tobie breathed more freely.
"No, I know nothing about that," he replied, running his hand through
his hair; "I got it mixed up with something else. Imagine, if you
please, that Madame Plays, whom I met last night, absolutely insists on
my fighting with you."
"Oh! as to her, it's a different matter. Poor woman! What answer did you
make?"
"I promised to kill you for her."
"Very good; listen--perhaps it can be arranged to suit you: if the count
kills me, you must tell Madame Plays that you did it."
"Oh! the idea! Poor Albert! I should be so distressed! Are you really
going to fight?"
"Most certainly I am. By the way, as you are on the spot, you must be my
second; for I shall not have time to send for anybody else."
"Your second!"
"You don't mean to refuse, I trust?"
"You see, my dear fellow, if you should be wounded, I should be ill, I
know."
"Nonsense! you must overcome such weaknesses as that; you shall be my
second, and I'll lend you five hundred francs to redeem your olive; and
I give you leave to tell Madame Plays that you have beaten me, wounded
me, killed me--whatever you choose."
"I haven't the heart to refuse. I will sacrifice myself and be your
second. Shall we breakfast?"
"I think not; but afterward, if I am the victor, there'll be nothing to
prevent."
While they were talking, Albert had dressed; he took his box of pistols,
sent for a cab, and entered it with Tobie, who was very pale and
agitated. As they passed the Café de Paris, on the boulevard, Albert
cried:
"Oh! mon Dieu! I have forgotten something!"
"What is it? Have you two duels on hand?"
"No, but if anything should happen to me--I haven't written a word of
farewell to my father. I will step into this café, while you go and find
a messenger for me--Sans-Cravate, if you can."
"Very well, my friend."
Albert alighted from the cab and went into the café to write his letter;
meanwhile, Tobie turned back to the corner of Rue du Helder to find the
messenger. Sans-Cravate and Jean Ficelle were not in their places, but
he saw Paul and hurried to where he stood.
"You must come with me, my boy."
"Yes, monsieur."
"You will be given a letter to deliver."
"I will deliver it, monsieur."
"You are to carry it to--but my friend probably won't want it to be
delivered at once. It's a very serious matter--a duel."
"Is it you who are going to fight, monsieur?"
"No; but I am to act as second, which is almost the same thing. The
letter's for his father. Sapristi! this business upsets me so--it seems
to me it would be much better if we could prevent this duel."
"How can that be done, monsieur?"
"I haven't any idea; but come."
Paul accompanied Tobie. Albert had written his letter, and was waiting
by the cab.
"Hurry, hurry!" he shouted to Tobie, who did not quicken his pace. "It
has just occurred to me that you can take this letter and give it to my
father, if I am killed."
"Thanks; much obliged; a delightful commission that! No, indeed; give it
to this fellow."
Albert handed Paul the letter, saying:
"Now, my friend, listen carefully to what I say. If you do not see me
again within two hours, you will take this letter to my father, Monsieur
Vermoncey, Rue Caumartin--the address is on the envelope; but not before
two hours from this time! do you understand?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Take this;--and now, Tobie, let us be off."
Albert entered the cab, but Tobie seized the opportunity to whisper in
Paul's ear:
"Carry the letter at once; then his father, knowing that he is going to
fight, may succeed in preventing the duel."
"Come on, Tobie! we have no time to waste."
"Here I am; I was just fixing my suspenders."
When the young men were in the cab, the driver, spurred on by Albert,
lashed his horse, which started off at a rapid trot; and Paul was left
standing on the boulevard, with the letter to Monsieur Vermoncey in his
hand.
The young messenger considered what it was his duty to do. The sight of
Albert recalled the adventure of the loft, Célestin's insolence, and his
schemes to seduce Elina. For a moment, he was tempted to wait the
prescribed two hours before delivering the letter. But such impulses,
inspired by hatred, could not long exist in his heart.
"This Monsieur Albert isn't as vicious as the others," he thought; "he
allows his friends to lead him into folly, just as Sans-Cravate allows
Jean Ficelle to lead him. But I don't believe that he is bad at heart.
And if he should be killed! Mon Dieu! I think I have heard that his
father had no one left but him, that he had lost all his other children.
Ah! I must at least try to save this one for him. I will deliver the
letter at once."
Paul went to the address written on the letter. He did not know Albert's
father, he had never seen him; and yet, the thought of his grief if his
son should fall in this duel awoke the keenest interest in his heart.
"I would like to speak to Monsieur Vermoncey--the elder," said Paul to
the concierge.
"Second floor, door at the left."
"Is he at home?"
"Yes; he never goes out so early."
The messenger ran hastily up the two flights of stairs, rang at the
door, and said to the servant who answered the bell:
"I would like to speak to Monsieur Vermoncey."
"What do you want of him?"
"I have a letter for him."
"Give it to me; I will hand it to him."
"Oh! no, I must give it into his own hands."
"But monsieur is breakfasting. However, I'll go and tell him. Wait."
"But tell him that it is very urgent, most important."
The servant left Paul in the reception-room, frantic with impatience. At
last the man returned, and ushered him into the room where Monsieur
Vermoncey was breakfasting.
Albert's father looked up at the young man, who seemed to be profoundly
agitated. Paul's interesting and by no means ordinary face prepossessed
everybody in his favor; Monsieur Vermoncey addressed him kindly:
"You wish to speak to me, my friend?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"You have a letter for me, I understand?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Give it to me."
"Oh! pardon me; but I must tell you first under what circumstances it
was handed to me."
"Very well, go on. But you seem much excited, my friend; try to be calm.
If you have come in behalf of some unfortunate person, I will try to
grant his request."
"Oh! it isn't that, monsieur; this letter that I have brought is from
monsieur your son."
"From my son?"
"Yes, monsieur; he handed it to me a few minutes ago, and said: 'If you
don't see me again in two hours, take this letter to my father; but not
before.'"
"What does it mean?"
"But his friend, the man who was with him, whispered to me: 'Go to
Monsieur Vermoncey at once; there's to be a duel.'"
"A duel! O my God!"
Monsieur Vermoncey rose, took the letter from Paul's hand, and hastily
ran his eyes over it.
"The unhappy boy!" he cried; "he says good-bye to me, asks me to forgive
him for fighting. Ah! he must have determined to kill me too. But you
say it was only a moment ago that Albert gave you this letter?"
"Yes, monsieur--out on the boulevard."
"Ah! then he shall not fight; I will stop this duel. O my God! my son,
the last of my children! to lose him as well would be too horrible!"
Monsieur Vermoncey put on his hat and hastened downstairs, followed by
Paul. When they were in the street, he looked anxiously at the
messenger, and said:
"You know where this duel is to take place, do you not?"
"No, monsieur; they did not tell me that."
"What! his friend did not tell you?"
"No, I suppose he didn't think of it; and it didn't occur to me to ask
him."
"What a misfortune! Where are we to go, then? where shall we find them?"
"One moment, monsieur; they were in a cab in front of the Café de Paris;
they have not gone to the Bois de Boulogne, for the cab drove away
rapidly in the direction of Porte Saint-Denis."
"Then they must be at Vincennes; yes, that must be the place. We will go
there. Isn't that a cab yonder? just call it."
"Yes, monsieur."
Paul ran to call the cab; Monsieur Vermoncey stepped in, and said to the
messenger:
"Come with me, my friend; you must help me in my search."
"Gladly, monsieur; but I will get up behind."
"No, no, come in here, with me; you understand my suffering, I can see
that. You will help me to find my son, to prevent a ghastly calamity.
Come quickly!"
Paul stepped into the cab and seated himself beside Monsieur Vermoncey,
who said to the driver:
"Twenty francs, forty francs, as much money as you want, if we are at
the Forest of Vincennes in half an hour!"
The driver urged his horses to a gallop.
XXII
THE DUEL AND ITS RESULTS.--A TOKEN OF VICTORY.--TOBIE'S REWARD
Albert and Tobie arrived at Porte Saint-Mandé as the clock struck ten.
They alighted from their cab, and saw a carriage a few yards away.
"The count is ahead of me," said Albert; "but it's all right; we are in
time. Yes, I see two gentlemen walking along the avenue yonder. Those
are our adversaries. Come, Tobie, forward!"