"Do you know the waltz from _L'Auberge des Adrets_, Boulotte--the one
Frédérick used to dance so well in his picturesque costume as Robert
Macaire? I can dance that waltz just a little."
"Let me put down my brick. Pshaw! there it goes, and it's all smashed!"
"Well! as long as you were going to smash it with a hammer anyway, you
have so much less to do."
"That's different. I shall lose half of it on the floor! What in the
world's the matter with you to-day that makes you so gay?"
"Parbleu! I have found my man--my Sicilian."
"Ah! the man with a secret?"
"Just so."
"And he's a Sicilian?"
"Yes, a Sicilian from Pontoise. Ah! what a fool I am! what did I say
that for? Don't repeat that, Boulotte, I beg you. If you ever see me
anywhere with a man you don't know, don't let the word Pontoise escape
you--or everything's over between us!"
"What silly nonsense is this you are giving me? You act like a crazy
man!"
"Let's drop that. Have you done my errand?"
"Yes, monsieur; I have done your errand. I was sure that Rosa, who knows
all the second-hand clothes women in Paris, would know her; she sold her
not long ago a steel comb, which she owed to the munificence of an
Englishman, with two teeth broken----"
"The Englishman?"
"No, the comb!"
"Very good. Rosa's one of your companions at the theatre, isn't she? a
brunette with yellow eyes, and complexion to match?"
"Yes, but never mind about her; you promised me a salmi of partridges if
you found your man with the secret--you see--I didn't say, your man from
Pontoise."
"Hush! imprudent girl! I was coming to the salmi in a minute, when I
spoke about Rosa. Our feast will take place at her room--day after
to-morrow, at noon, to give her time to tell Putiphar to come there
that day about one; I shall be there, you understand, and I shall have
told you and Rosa what to say to her so that my plan may succeed."
"Are you going to play a joke on someone?"
"To be sure."
"Never fear, then! we'll tell her all the foolish stuff you want."
"I have never doubted it. It's understood, then--day after to-morrow, at
twelve o'clock, at Rosa's.--Does she still live on Rue de Lancry?"
"Yes."
"I promise you a breakfast of swallows' nests, like the Chinese."
"No, no, I don't want that! The idea of eating birds' nests! what a
horror!"
"Then we will transform them into charlotte russe."
"All right! Order the breakfast at Lecomte's, corner of Rue de Lancry
and the boulevard; that's a nice restaurant."
"Never you fear; I know the good places."
Mademoiselle Rosa, Boulotte's fellow _figurante_, occupied a small
fourth-floor apartment on Rue de Lancry, very daintily furnished; for,
although she had yellow eyes and complexion, she always had richer
protectors than several of her companions who were far prettier than
she. Why was that? I decline to tell you.
On the appointed day, about half-past twelve, Dodichet was seated at the
table, between Boulotte and Rosa, in the tiny dining-room of the
latter's apartment. The table was covered with dishes, upon which they
had already made savage attacks, and with bottles embellished with
divers seals and containing wines of different colors.
They were in very high spirits, laughing while they ate, and drinking
while they laughed.
"Mesdemoiselles," said Dodichet, uncorking a bottle of champagne, "I
have told you the joke--the jest--the trick, in fact, which I want to
play. You have promised to help me."
"We promise again."
"I swear it by my lover's hair!" said Rosa.
"Oho! but I believe your lover's bald, isn't he?--However, never
mind--you know what you're to say to Madame Putiphar when she comes?"
"Oh! we know our rôles; you'll be content with us."
"But the woman doesn't come! suppose she should go back on us?"
"No danger! I told her I wanted a brooch."
"For your kitchen?"[Q]
"Why, no; to wear at my neck. Hark--someone is ringing--I'll bet that's
she!"
And, in a moment, the maid came in and said to Rosa:
"Madame Putiphar is here."
"Well, show her in; she won't keep us from eating."
Almost on the instant there appeared a short but enormously stout woman,
apparently somewhat between forty and fifty years of age; who had been,
perhaps, in her prime, a piquant brunette, but was now simply a brunette
without the piquancy, or rather a black; for her hair, whose thick
plaits almost covered her cheeks, was of such a glossy ebon blackness
that, at first sight, taken with her face, which was flushed and pimply,
it made her head look as if it had been varnished. She was well supplied
with clothes, too well supplied, in fact, for she wore two shawls,--a
large one, with a smaller one over it,--a high collarette, with a
cravat twisted round it; a cap, and over it a bonnet decorated with a
lot of frippery; in addition, she carried a flat box under her arm,
which led Dodichet to observe:
"This woman evidently carries a large part of her stock in trade about
with her."
"Good-day, Putiphar!"
"Hail, Madame Putiphar!"
"Sit down, Putiphar. When I wrote you to come, I didn't know that
Monsieur Dodichet, a commission merchant in sugar, would treat Boulotte
and me to this impromptu feast of champagne and truffles mixed, this
morning.--But that doesn't make any difference; for you're in no hurry,
I take it?"
The corpulent dame replied by repeated courtesies, accompanied by loving
glances at the table, mumbling:
"Oh! mesdames, don't let me disturb you at all! It smells good here, and
I'm in no hurry; I'll watch you eat."
"Won't you take a glass of champagne with us, madame?"
"Oh! monsieur is very polite----"
"Accept, Putiphar, accept; nobody ever refuses a glass of champagne!"
"I am tempted----"
"With a biscuit in it, eh?"
"I should prefer, if it's all the same to you, the chicken wing I see on
that dish."
"That's all right. Draw up to the table.--Manette, a plate for Madame
Putiphar.--Will you have some pâté de foie gras too?"
"You tempt me--but, really, I am ashamed of myself. Monsieur will think
I'm a great glutton."
"That's not a failing, madame; it's a good quality."
Madame Putiphar took her place at the table, stuffed herself with
chicken, pâté, and truffles, partook freely of claret, madeira, and
champagne, and never paused for breath until the dessert was being
brought on. Then she wiped her mouth, saying:
"A very pretty little feast; monsieur knows how to treat the ladies."
"Oh! Dodichet's very polite," said Boulotte; "he's eaten up a lot of
money with women."
"Mon Dieu! mesdames, what is the good of money, if not to give you
pleasure?"
"Ah! what a sweet sentiment! Monsieur deserves to be embalmed."
"What's that! embalmed?"
"I meant to say, turned into a statuette."
"Unfortunately, you've become very rare lately, Dodichet," said Rosa;
"we hardly ever see you."
"It isn't my fault! I am not my own master since my intimate friend
Count Miflorès came to Paris."
"Oh, yes! that Sicilian, who's so rich!"
"He doesn't know the amount of his fortune."
"Is he a relation of yours?"
"No; but I rendered him an important service in Sicily; he was on the
point of falling into a volcano; did you know there were volcanoes in
Sicily?"
"Yes, mountains that spit fire; I saw one in a play, at La Gaieté."
"My Sicilian, who is very inquisitive and very brave, had ascended Mount
Ætna, and was looking into the mouth of the crater; suddenly he dropped
his cane, and it fell into the fiery gulf. Count Miflorès thought a
great deal of that cane, which he had inherited from his mother; he was
going down into the crater to try to recover it, which would have been
to go to certain destruction! Luckily, I was there--with my dog, a
magnificent Newfoundland. I pointed to the hole, and to the cane, of
which we could see one end, and said: 'Go, seek! go, seek!'--My dog
understood me; he rushed down into the crater, and soon returned with
the cane between his teeth and laid it at my feet. I gave it to the
count, who was overjoyed, and who swore everlasting friendship to me
from that day."
"Ah! the brave count! no, I mean the brave dog! You ought to have given
him a good dinner when you got home!"
"Alas! the poor beast never got home; after a minute or two, he fell
dead at my feet; he was roasted, the heat of the crater had cooked him!"
"Oh! what an idea! And still he brought back the cane, roasted as he
was?"
"His devotion sustained him.--But it seems to me, mesdames, that it is
high time to attack this nougat and water it with a little alicante."
"Yes, yes; let's attack it and water it!--Take some nougat, Putiphar."
"You tempt me. I would make a fool of myself for this alicante!"
"What has your Sicilian come to Paris for?"
"In the first place, to see this wonderful city, which everybody aspires
to know, and which no one ever wants to leave when he has once tasted
its joys. Secondly, the devil of a fellow has a curious whimsey in his
head: he wants to marry."
"You call that a whimsey, monsieur? why, it's a most prevalent idea."
"Look here, you'd better not talk against marriage before Putiphar,
Dodichet; she'll never forgive you."
"Oh! I'll forgive monsieur for anything--he treats the ladies so
handsomely; but I would like to convert him."
"Mon Dieu! madame, although I am not thinking of marriage for myself, I
assure you that I have no wish to disgust others with it; and the proof
is that I'm looking for a wife for my rich Sicilian."
"A wife? You're looking for a wife for him, monsieur? Oh! in that
case--I beg your pardon, a sip of alicante, if you please--I may have
what you want."
"Faith! madame, if you can find me somebody suited to my friend, you
would give me great pleasure; for I haven't much time to give to it. I
have more orders for sugar than I can handle; I am obliged to neglect my
business, and I don't like it."
"I must ask you one important question first of all, monsieur: is your
count rich?"
"I think I have already told you that he doesn't know the amount of his
fortune."
"Then I suppose he wants his wife to be rich, too?"
"Not at all; he cares nothing at all for money; he has enough for two."
"Really! he won't ask for any dowry?"
"A dowry! why, if the woman's father should be so ill-advised as to
mention such a thing, he would be quite capable of knocking him down! He
would consider it an insult."
"Phew! what a noble-minded man!--A little more alicante, please."
"And some chartreuse?"
"In a minute, Monsieur Godichet."
"Dodichet."
"That don't make any difference. For heaven's sake, what does your count
want in his wife?"
"This: in the first place, he wants her to be young."
"That goes without saying."
"Good figure, pretty----"
"Those are mere trifles."
"And--she must be really unmarried; do you understand?"
"Perfectly. I have what he wants, monsieur; I have it, and everybody
can't say as much!"
"Are you sure? will you guarantee it?"
"Yes, monsieur; as I'm an honest woman!--A young lady, brought up in the
best way by strict parents, who never goes out alone----"
"This seems to me to fit the case to perfection.--By the way, there's
one other condition: my Sicilian is particular that she shall be a
Parisian; he insists on that; he thinks that no women but the Parisians
can wear hoopskirts gracefully."
"My young lady is a Parisian, monsieur; born, I believe, on Rue du
Pont-aux-Choux, the very centre of Paris."
"The centre of the Marais, you mean, Putiphar."
"That's all the same."
"Yes; Miflorès doesn't insist that his future wife must have been born
in the Chaussée d'Antin, especially as he never heard of it. Is the
family respectable? We are particular about that, you see. A Sicilian
count wouldn't want to ally himself with a dealer in rabbit skins--you
can understand that."
"Oh! it's a most respectable family, monsieur. Monsieur Mirotaine, the
father, is an ex-bailiff."
"You are quite sure?"
"Positive, monsieur. He don't do anything now--he lives on his income.
Juliette's mother--mademoiselle's name is Juliette--is dead; Monsieur
Mirotaine is married again, to a woman much younger than he is; from
which you can conclude that the stepmother is in a hurry to marry off
her stepdaughter."
"Very good! things seem to run as smoothly as if they were on wheels."
"Now, will you allow me to take my turn and ask you a few questions,
monsieur?"
"I should say so! all the questions you please, Madame Joseph--I should
say, Madame Putiphar! Have some chartreuse--to drink with these
damsels!"
"Yes, yes, let's take a drink!--Do you like chartreuse, Putiphar?"
"If it's green, I'm afraid of it; it's too strong."
"This is yellow, and that other green."
"In that case, I'll let you tempt me. My word! but Monsieur Godichet can
brag of knowing how to do things in good shape!"
Madame Putiphar sipped the yellow chartreuse, but it did not make her
forget the great stroke of business of which she had caught a glimpse.
"Will you be good enough to tell me your count's age first of all,
monsieur?"
"Thirty-six; he looks forty, but it's his own doing."
"The age is all right; how about his physique?"
"That corresponds with his age: a fine figure, noble carriage, fresh as
a rose; his nose is a little large, but he will fix that all right by
blowing it!"
"Faith! monsieur, everything seems to harmonize on both sides. Allow me
to mention your friend to the Mirotaine family to-day; and as soon as he
chooses to call----"
"One moment, my dear woman; we can't go so fast as that with Miflorès.
He's a peculiar fellow; he is timid and, furthermore, extremely
sensitive."
"Do you want Monsieur Mirotaine to call on him?"
"No, indeed! that would spoil everything."
"What are we to do, then? Look you, I believe I'll risk a little green
chartreuse; we must get accustomed to everything."
"You are quite right. I drink to the fair sex, of which you are a part,
Madame Putiphar."
"I have always hoped so, monsieur. Here's to yours! Hum! this is strong,
and very penetrating! Well, monsieur, how are we to go to work to
arrange a match between your count and my young and innocent Juliette?"
"Listen to me carefully: I'll set you the pace. In the first place,
Miflorès will never consent to present himself right away in any family,
as a marrying man; he wishes to study, to examine the young lady at his
ease--to know her, in short--and I shall be very careful not to tell him
that she knows that it is his intention to marry her; moreover, as my
friend is very timid, he always insists on my going with him. I will
invent some pretext for calling on your Mirotaines; I will tell the
count that I am negotiating an important transaction with the papa, and
that I need a guarantor. Then he will be perfectly willing to go with
me."
"All that is simple enough, monsieur; I will tell Monsieur Mirotaine
that you have a great deal of influence over his prospective
son-in-law."
"And you will tell no falsehood, I beg you to believe. By the way,
there's another matter: my friend is in the habit of dining wherever he
goes; it's a noble habit, contracted in Sicily. If he isn't asked to
dinner, he has the worst possible opinion of the people to whose house
I have taken him. Moreover, he's a great gourmand; an excellent dinner,
with plenty of good wine and dainty dishes, will dispose him favorably."
"The deuce! that makes the thing rather harder, monsieur; for I must
tell you that Monsieur Mirotaine is a little close in the matter of
spending money--a little miserly, I may as well say it. He never gives a
dinner party. If, by any chance, he does invite anyone, it's always on
condition that he brings his own dishes."
"I can assure you that we won't bring anything at all! If that's the
case, there's nothing to be done!"
"It seems to me," said Rosa, "that a man can well afford to put out a
little money for once, to catch a rich noble for a son-in-law, who takes
his daughter without a sou."
"I should think so!" cried Boulotte; "such a husband as that is a
treasure!"
"Yes, my dear loves, you are right. We won't give it up, Monsieur
Godichet; I'll just speak to the stepmother; she'll back me up, for
she'll be delighted to be allied to a count. She will make her husband
listen to reason, and he'll give the dinner."
"All right!"
"And if Monsieur Godichet cared to go and see Monsieur Mirotaine in the
meantime?"
"There's no sort of need of it; I won't go till the day we're invited to
dinner, and if it wasn't for the sake of obliging my friend I wouldn't
go at all; but a man must sacrifice himself for his friends."
"I must leave you, mesdames; I can't go about this business too soon."
"Go, Putiphar, go; it's worth your while."
"As soon as I've had a day fixed for the dinner, I'll write to you,
Monsieur Godichet."
"Dodichet, I tell you!"
"I beg your pardon--Dodichet. By the way, your address, if you please?"
"I live at the Grand Hôtel; but I'm never to be found there; it's so
grand! Come and give these young ladies your message, and they'll send
it to me at once."
"Agreed. It may take two or three days, perhaps, to bring Monsieur
Mirotaine to the point of giving a dinner party; but we'll succeed. Au
revoir, Monsieur--Dodichet!--I got it right that time, eh? By the way,
if the marriage comes off, as I hope, I stipulate that I am to furnish
the trousseau and all the presents the bridegroom gives his bride."
"You shall furnish everything, Madame Putiphar, everything; even the
husband's suspenders, if he wears any that day."
"Ah! Monsieur Dodichet, you're a very agreeable man!"
"Have another little glass of the green before you go?"
"You tempt me.--Mademoiselle Rosa, we'll talk about that brooch some
other day."
"Yes, yes, Putiphar; there's no hurry."
Whereupon the wardrobe dealer, whose complexion had changed to purple as
a result of all that she had drunk, executed a graceful courtesy, none
the less, and withdrew.
IV
TWO FRIENDS
Mademoiselle Juliette, Monsieur Mirotaine's daughter, was nearly
nineteen years of age, but was such a gentle and timid young woman that
one would readily have mistaken her for a schoolgirl of twelve. She
trembled before her father, who always treated her harshly; and ever
since she had had a stepmother, her life had been passed in doing the
will of one or the other. Let us hasten to say, however, that Madame
Mirotaine II was no tyrant; indeed, she was not unkind at heart; but she
was anxious to get rid of her stepdaughter, because she herself was
inclined to be coquettish, and Juliette was exceedingly pretty. Although
her timidity made her seem like a child, physically speaking she was a
lovely girl of nineteen, with a graceful figure, clear white skin, and
brown hair; her mouth was beautiful, her teeth small and even, her
almond-shaped eyes were charming in the softness of their expression;
but she kept them almost always on the ground, at least before her
parents; I like to think that she raised them sometimes when she was
talking with Lucien.
Juliette was very easily moved; that could be divined from her eyes and
the tones of her voice; she had listened at first with pleasure, then
with love, to the declarations of young Lucien, who had long been in the
habit of calling at Monsieur Mirotaine's, whose commissions and errands
he was always ready to undertake. But he was not welcomed there so
cordially since he had dared to ask Monsieur Mirotaine for his
daughter's hand.
"My daughter has no dowry," the father had replied; "you haven't a sou,
nor any place, nor any trade; so you can't marry her. Earn some money,
work up a flourishing business, and I'll give you my daughter."
"Then, monsieur, promise to keep her for me till I have succeeded."
"No, indeed; that might be altogether too long. I shall marry Juliette
as soon as I have found a good match for her; meanwhile I am perfectly
willing that you should come to my house and do my errands when I have
any, but on condition that you are never to be alone with my daughter,
and that you never mention the subject of love to her."
Lucien promised; indeed, he had to promise, in order to be allowed to
continue his visits to the house; but, as will be seen, the lovers were
in a very melancholy plight, and they could hardly find a minute to
exchange a word of love in secret.
Luckily for Juliette, she had a friend upon whose bosom she could pour
out her heart, to whom she told all her troubles and her hopes--in
short, everything that took place in her heart and in her mind.
She was a boarding-school friend, but was six years older than Juliette;
they were in perfect accord, however, in their views, their feelings,
and their sentiments. The friend had married immediately upon leaving
school; she had not been able to obtain permission for Juliette, who was
then only fourteen, to come to her wedding; but Juliette's father had
consented to her receiving her friend's visits. Knowing that she was
rich, Monsieur Mirotaine thought that she could not be an undesirable
acquaintance for his daughter.
It is needless to say that when Juliette fell in love with Lucien her
passion was confided to her tender-hearted friend, as well as the
disappointments of the lovers, their hopes, and their plans for the
future. Meanwhile, the friend had lost her husband; but as she had not
married for love, it is probable that she shed very few tears on her
young friend's breast.
It was two o'clock in the afternoon; Juliette was alone in her chamber
and even more melancholy than usual; we shall soon know the reason. She
had at least the satisfaction of having a chamber to herself, where she
could weep at her ease; a narrow corridor led to it from the
reception-room, so that to reach it one was not obliged to pass the
whole suite. Hence, the girl might, in an emergency, have received a
secret visit from Lucien; he might have slipped into her room from the
dining-room. But Juliette would not allow it; she felt that it would be
wrong to receive a young man secretly in her bedroom; she did not wish
to expose herself to her stepmother's remonstrances and her father's
anger. But Juliette was unhappy; she sighed, and sometimes wept a large
part of the day.
It was with a cry of joy, therefore, and a feeling of the utmost
satisfaction that she saw that friend enter her room, to whom alone she
could pour out her heart.
"Ah! Nathalie, at last!" said Juliette, running to meet the young widow,
who began by kissing her. "What a long time since you came to see me!
fie, madame! it is wicked of you to neglect me so, when I have no other
friend, no other consolation, but you! Come, sit down here with me this
minute. Oh! how happy it makes me to see you!"
"Don't scold me, my dear Juliette; the reason that I haven't been to see
you for some time is that I haven't been very well."
"Oh, dear! that was all that was wanting--that you should be sick! You
ought to have written to me; I would have shown father your letter, and
he couldn't have refused to let me go to see you and nurse you."
"It wasn't worth while; it's all over now, as you see."
"Why, no--no, you are a little pale."
"I always am. But you have a pair of red eyes; what does that mean? You
have been crying; is there anything new? doesn't Lucien love you any
more?"
"Oh, yes! poor boy--I see in his eyes that he still loves me; he can't
tell me so except with his eyes, but I can understand what they say."
"What is the matter, then?"
"Oh! mon Dieu! the matter is that they are still bent on marrying me,
especially my stepmother, who wants to get rid of me; and this time it
seems that they have found a husband for me. It's that infernal
second-hand dealer, Madame Putiphar, who has planned it all. She
promised my stepmother to bear me in mind. And now they say she's found
a superb match for me: a Neapolitan or Sicilian count--or some kind of
an Italian nobleman, immensely rich, who doesn't want a dowry!--do you
hear? no dowry! That is what captivates father."
"Have you seen this count?"
"No, not yet, thank God! but it appears that I am to see him soon; we're
to give a dinner for him and one of his friends, who always accompanies
him."
"Your father is going to give a dinner party? it isn't possible!"