dining in every house he goes to--he and his friend; my stepmother
Aldegonde brought my father to the point. 'You must give this dinner,'
she said, 'and let it be a handsome one; a rich and noble son-in-law is
well worth going to some little expense.'--Father swore, but he
yielded--and the day is fixed: the day after to-morrow, my prospective
husband is to dine with us. And that is why I am crying! why I am so
unhappy! And I saw in Lucien's eyes that he knew all about it; Aldegonde
probably told him, just to be nasty."
"Come, come, my poor Juliette, don't get so excited; this marriage
hasn't come off yet. You are very pretty, but perhaps your style of
beauty won't please this Italian."
"Oh! I'll make faces at him."
"A thousand things may happen to prevent it. Has your father made any
inquiries about the man?"
"I don't think so; he relies on Madame Putiphar's word, and she praises
him in the highest terms, as well as his friend, who's a commission
merchant in something or other."
"A commission merchant in marriages, I should say! However, I prefer to
believe that your father wouldn't marry you to a man without knowing
something about him. And, do you know, there's one thing in all this
that seems so perfectly absurd to me--that is, the idea of this rich
nobleman absolutely insisting on being invited out to dinner--he and his
friend! That has every appearance of a joke, do you know!"
"That is so. You are right! It doesn't seem altogether natural."
"I don't know why, but I suspect some sort of a scheme in all this.
There are so many schemers in Paris! Look you, my dear, this marriage
isn't made yet, and something tells me that it never will be."
"Bless you, my dear Nathalie! you renew my hopes, you bring back joy to
my heart! Ah! how good it was of you to come!"
"Yes, and you have no idea that you came very near never seeing me
again; that I have been in great danger."
"Mon Dieu! how you frighten me! what has happened, in heaven's name?"
"My dress caught fire, my love; it was all ablaze, and I never suspected
it!"
"Oh! heaven!"
"Don't be alarmed; the danger must have passed, as I am here."
"Was it long ago?"
"Not more than a week.--I was walking on the boulevard; it seems that my
dress came in contact with a lighted match, which our gentlemanly
friends are in the habit of strewing along their path, presumably to
gratify themselves by roasting us alive! My dress was on fire, and I had
no idea of it, when suddenly I felt two strong arms surround me--yes,
hug me; I started to cry out, I thought that it was an insult--my dear,
my life had been saved! A young man, at the risk of burning himself to
death, had sacrificed himself in order to extinguish the fire, and he
did it very adroitly, but at the cost of quite a bad burn on his wrist."
"Oh! the poor fellow! I wish I could thank him. Was he a workingman?"
"No; a very elegant young man--and very good-looking. We were surrounded
in a moment; you know how inquisitive everybody is in Paris. Luckily,
there was a druggist's shop within a few steps, and we took refuge
there; and while my rescuer's arm was being dressed, we talked a little.
You can understand that I was anxious to know who it was to whom I was
so deeply indebted; I asked him his name, and he gave me his card; he
was Monsieur Adhémar Monbrun--a dramatist who writes delightful plays.
You don't know him, poor darling, for they never take you to the
theatre!"
"No, but I know the name through Lucien. This Adhémar Monbrun is a
friend of his; he has often spoken to me about him, and he speaks very
highly of him."
"Really? Monsieur Lucien knows him, and speaks very highly of him?"
"Yes; he says that he is a very generous man, always ready to help his
friends. Indeed, he has said to me more than once: 'If I wanted money, I
am very sure that Adhémar would lend me some; but, in my opinion, a man
ought not to borrow when he doesn't know how he can repay the
loan.'--But finish your story."
"Oh! it's almost finished.--When he gave me his card, I thought it best
to give him mine; for I didn't want him to think he had rescued a
lorette, or a bitch--as they call prostitutes now. Then I sent for a
cab, for I couldn't walk home with my dress all burned. The cab came,
and Monsieur Adhémar escorted me to it; I offered to drive him home, for
he had to carry his arm in a sling. That was natural enough, wasn't it?"
"Surely. Poor fellow! is he badly burned?"
"Yes, on the wrist; it will not be serious; but he will probably retain
the mark. He declined my offer, and left me."
"Ah! and was that all?"
"Yes."
"It's a pity!"
"What a child you are! Oh! there was something else, though."
"What was it? what was it? I had a shrewd idea that it wasn't finished."
"I thought that it would be discourteous of me, knowing his address, not
to send to inquire how his burn was getting along; for, you see, it was
for me, it was in assisting me, that he was injured."
"Why, of course; and it was your duty to inquire."
"Still, I hesitated a long while."
"Why so?"
"Oh! because--I don't know--I was afraid it would seem as if I wanted to
force that young man to think about me."
"Really? was that the reason?"
"Dear me! how spiteful you are this morning!--At last, I concluded to do
it; and three days ago I sent my servant to inquire about the burn. She
saw him, and he told her that it was almost well, that he thanked me
very much for the interest I was good enough to take in him, and that he
should have the honor of coming himself to thank me."
"Oho! so he has been to see you, has he?"
"No; that was three days ago, and he hasn't been yet. He probably said
it to be polite; he won't come."
"I'll bet that he will."
"He may come or not, as he pleases; after all, it makes no difference to
me."
"Oh! what a lie!"
"Juliette!"
"Yes, that's a lie; it does make a difference to you! Tell me, Nathalie,
am I not to be your confidante, as you are mine? You have often said to
me: 'I made a marriage of reason; I have never known what it is to
love; but it must be a very pleasant thing. I am bored sometimes when I
am alone; if I loved somebody, it seems to me that I should never be
bored.'"
"Yes, I have said all that to you; what then?"
"Well--let me look into your eyes. Come, I'll bet that you are never
bored now."
"What an idea, Juliette! You will have it that I am in love with a man
whom I hardly know, who has never spoken to me but once, and who has no
desire to see me again--as you see!"
"Mon Dieu! I don't say that you love him; but I think that he attracted
you--that you might have fallen in love with him."
"Well, yes! yes, my dear friend; yes, he did attract me; yes---- I don't
know whether it is gratitude for the great service he rendered me,
or---- Oh! I won't conceal anything from you! Ever since that day, I
don't know what has been the matter with me: I have been nervous and
sad; everything irritates me; I keep wanting to cry; I think of him all
the time; I tell myself that I am a fool, that I lack common sense. But
I am not bored any more--no, no, I am never bored now!"
And Nathalie threw her arms about her friend; her heart had longed for a
vent, and it was relieved as of a burden. Then she continued:
"And Lucien knows him? Oh! how I would like to see Lucien! I would ask
him a thousand questions. But you say he speaks highly of him?"
"Yes, very.--By the way, I remember----"
"What?"
"No, I won't tell you that."
"Is it something concerning Monsieur Adhémar? I insist upon your telling
me, and telling me instantly!"
"Well, Lucien said: 'It's a pity that Adhémar will never believe that
anyone loves him; it is true that he has been deceived so often by his
mistresses that it may well have made him distrustful; but he carries it
too far now; he has sworn never to love any woman again.'"
"That's a drunken man's oath, my dear love," said Nathalie, with a
smile; "and that young man isn't old enough to keep it."
"But tell me, my dear, is there anything new? Have you had no news?"
"Of whom?"
"You know to whom I refer."
"Oh! yes, I understand; but, really, my adventure with Monsieur Adhémar
has made me entirely forget the person you speak of. No, thank heaven, I
haven't seen him again!"
"I am so glad! when I think of him, do you know, I am always afraid for
you."
"What a child you are!"
At that moment, Madame Mirotaine II entered the room.
"Your father's asking for you, Juliette," she said.--"Ah! your servant,
madame! excuse me for disturbing you."
"Not at all, madame; I was just going when you came in; in any event, I
would not keep Juliette from obeying her father's summons.--Au revoir,
dear girl!"
As Nathalie kissed her, Juliette whispered in her ear:
"Come to see me after the famous dinner; I will tell you the result."
"Very well; and I will tell you if--I have seen him again."
"Madame, I have the honor to salute you."
"Present my compliments to Monsieur Mirotaine, if you please!"
"I will not fail, madame."
V
SMALL DISHES IN LARGE ONES
The day of the famous dinner party had arrived, and everything was in
confusion at Monsieur Mirotaine's, where the entertainment of strangers
was a most extraordinary thing. From ten o'clock in the morning, the
master of the house had been parading his apartments, going constantly
from the dining-room to the kitchen and back, and heaving profound sighs
at sight of the preparations for the repast. Seeing Goth, his young
maid-servant, take something from the sideboard, he stopped her, saying:
"What's that you're taking?"
"Pepper, monsieur."
"What for?"
"To put in the sauce piquante I am making."
"What's the use of a sauce piquante?"
"Why, it's to eat with your joint, monsieur,--your rib of beef. A fillet
would have been tenderer, but monsieur wouldn't have that."
"Why not ortolans, and have done with it? You people have sworn to ruin
me to-day! Mon Dieu! such profusion, such waste! Leave the pepper
there--you don't need it."
At this point, Madame Mirotaine appeared on the scene.
"What's the matter with you, my dear?" she asked.
"Monsieur won't let me have the pepper," said Goth; "but I must have
some for my sauces."
"What are you thinking about, my dear? Don't you want anything to be
good?"
"I want--I want you to stop throwing my money out of the window. Every
minute this girl has to have something new--salt or pepper. It's enough
to break a man's heart!"
"Well, monsieur, I'd like to know why I don't have a supply of such
things in my kitchen, like the cooks do in all decent houses?--And,
madame, I must have some pickles too, and some capers for the white
sauce for the fish."
"We must send out for some."
"Not by any means; it's all unnecessary. What's the good of capers? You
have plenty of mustard here."
"But, monsieur, you don't put mustard in a white sauce."
"Make it red, then."
"My dear, if you don't let us have what we need for dinner, everything
will be horrid; and then you will certainly have spent money uselessly,
instead of doing yourself credit."
Monsieur Mirotaine took an old bandanna handkerchief from his pocket and
wiped his eyes, muttering:
"You make me do crazy things, Aldegonde!--What are you going to have for
dinner, anyhow?"
"In the first place, we have a julienne soup."
"What does _julienne_ mean?"
"Vegetables cut fine."
"Oho! vegetables at the very beginning! What next?"
"There will be butter and radishes on the table."
"That makes two courses."
"No, those are hors-d'oeuvre; they don't count."
"_Don't count_ is good! they have to be paid for, all the same!"
"The next course to the soup is always fish."
"Are you sure that you couldn't possibly have the soup without it?"
"It's customary. We have a pike; salmon would have been better, but as
the very smallest ones are worth from fifteen to twenty francs----"
"What an outrage! And to think that there are people who eat salmon!"
"So I had a pike instead, and for that we must have a caper sauce."
"Why can't it be eaten without sauce?"
"It wouldn't be good.--Flanking the fish we shall have cutlets with peas
and a _tourte aux boulettes_."
"The twenty-four-sou kind, I trust?"
"For eleven people! the idea! The two-franc size, and that will be very
scant!"
"Well, I hope that that's all."
"I should think not! that's only the first course. Now we come to the
second."
"Great God!"
"For your joint, you have ribs of beef; then, for vegetables, on one
side string beans, on the other spinach."
"Why need you have more vegetables? You have served them already with
your julienne, you told me, so you don't want them again."
"Julienne is a soup, not a meat course. Then----"
"What! is there something more?"
"Macaroni; and as it is always necessary to have sweets----"
"Take my head at once!"
"No, my dear; that wouldn't be good. We shall have a _crême à la
vanille_. You must give me some sugar; I haven't any left."
"Nor I, either!"
"Well, there's plenty at the grocer's."
"No, I still have a few pieces of candied sugar."
"Give them to Goth.--For dessert, such fruit as is in season."
"Prunes?"
"This is summer time, and you don't give your guests dried fruit. Then
cheese----"
"Marolles--that's the best."
"Nonsense! your marolles smells up the whole room. Roquefort, and
biscuit."
"Enough! enough! you may as well kill me!"
"Oh! you forgot the salad, madame."
Monsieur Mirotaine, in a rage, aimed a kick at Goth, shouting:
"There's salad for you! That will teach you to ask for something else!"
Goth began to cry, and demanded her wages. Madame Mirotaine succeeded in
pacifying her, and sent her off to her kitchen; then she berated her
husband for giving way so to his temper, and told him that she would
leave him if he interfered again in the details of housekeeping.
Monsieur Mirotaine, who set great store by his wife for the very reason
that she led him by the nose, begged her pardon and added, with a sigh:
"It's this dinner that irritates me, and makes a brute of me!"
"Just remember that you are going to get rid of your daughter--to marry
her to a millionaire Italian count, Count Miflorès, who will give us
some superb presents, I am sure, when he gives her her wedding gift."
"You think that he'll give us something?"
"Madame Putiphar feels sure of it."
"Then it's all right!"
"It is well worth a dinner.--By the way, monsieur, have you thought
about the wine?"
"The wine! why, I have some in the cellar."
"Yes, our regular table wine, which is very bad."
"The more water you put in it, the better it is."
"But we must have claret with the second course, and champagne at
dessert; everybody does."
"That's it: everybody does! Luckily, I know a man who makes champagne at
one franc twenty-five the bottle."
"It must be perfectly awful stuff!"
"He assured me that it was delicious and foamed like beer."
"As for claret, somebody sent you a basket of twenty-five bottles,
either in payment of a debt, or as a present; but I know that it's
excellent."
"Yes; but I am keeping it for some time when I may be sick."
"You will give me two bottles of it, monsieur; you must."
"Two bottles! isn't one enough?"
"No; we shall be eleven at table."
"As many as that?"
"When you entertain strangers, you don't give them just a family dinner;
that's too informal. I have invited all the Brid'oisons; we have dined
there several times, and this was a good opportunity to return their
courtesy; besides, you have business relations with Monsieur
Brid'oison."
"Oh! he finds me a borrower now and then. Will they bring their son?"
"Of course; they are mad over him, as you know. Naturally, we shall have
Madame Putiphar; it is she who is arranging the match; and then, she
knows the count's intimate friend, a very jovial young man, so it seems.
Then I have invited your sister, Madame Trichon; she's an excellent
woman."
"Yes, and a widow, without any children, whose heir I should be, if she
should happen to die. But she's very hearty--she eats a lot!"
"To offset her, I have invited Monsieur Callé; he's a very distinguished
young man, and he eats almost nothing."
"Do you really mean it? But what is the explanation of your inviting
him?"
Aldegonde bit her lips for a second, trying to think of a reply. At last
she found one:
"He is a very good musician; he sings well, and plays the flageolet. In
the evening it will be pleasant to have a little music."
"Does the young man accompany himself on the flageolet when he sings?"
"No, but he can play for the dancing; I have invited several more people
to come in in the evening; and if they want to dance----"
"Whom have you invited?"
"The Boulard ladies, your friend Dubotté and his wife----"
"Oh! he never comes!"
"He said that he would try to come this time. Then the brothers Bridoux.
There'll be quite a lot of us. But we shall have to pass round
refreshments during the evening."
"Very well; you can give them cocoa."
"No, monsieur, no! Cocoa does well enough when we have nobody but your
sister and Monsieur Callé, who is very abstemious; but for this Italian
count we must have something else."
"Well, lemonade, then. Squeeze a lemon in two or three quarts of water;
it's very refreshing."
"That's my affair, monsieur; I will think it over, and find a way to
provide what is right. You will dress, monsieur, I trust?"
"Ain't I all right as I am?"
"No, certainly not; your linen is soiled, and your waistcoat all covered
with spots. You must put on a black coat."
"I don't own such a thing."
"You don't own a black coat?"
"What's the use, when I never wear one? But I have a black overcoat that
I've only had five years; it's the same as new."
"Well, monsieur, dress as well as you can. I have told your daughter to
beautify herself, too; she must make a favorable impression on this
Monsieur Miflorès!"
"Oh! young girls are always coquettish enough."
"As for myself, I shall try to make myself presentable and to do you
credit. I must now see how things are going in the kitchen."
Monsieur Mirotaine, being left alone, heaved a prodigious sigh; then,
after reflecting for some time, he went hastily down into his cellar
with a pitcher full of water; he took several bottles of wine and drew
the corks, then filled some empty bottles with two parts of wine, and
one of water from his pitcher. Having thus manipulated four bottles, he
took them upstairs, chuckling over what he had done. Then he took two
bottles of the Château-Léoville which had been given him, and was about
to doctor them in the same way; but he heard footsteps; it was Aldegonde
returning; she took possession of the two bottles which she saw on the
table, and the generous wine escaped the baptism which awaited it.
While Monsieur Mirotaine was making up his mind to dress, and madame was
devoting all her attention to her toilet, Juliette, who had been dressed
for a long time, and who would gladly have disfigured herself in order
to create an unfavorable impression on this guest in search of a wife,
but who was as pretty as ever, because, even when a woman wants to make
herself look ugly, she always dresses so that she does not look
so--Juliette was busy setting the table, the cook having too much to do
about her saucepans to find time to lay the cloth. The girl sighed as
she arranged the plates, and said to herself:
"If this dinner were to celebrate my engagement to Lucien, what a
difference it would make! how happy I should be! But they haven't even
invited poor Lucien; and yet, only last night, father sent him from the
Barrière du Trône to Passy, and didn't even pay for a seat on top of an
omnibus!"
Madame Mirotaine came to look at the table; she held in her hand divers
small slips of paper, on which the names of the guests were written.
"We must arrange these carefully," said Aldegonde.
"What are you going to do with those slips of paper, madame?"
"They are to show each person the seat he or she is to take at table."
"Why, can't they sit wherever they choose?"
"No; it is good form to put each guest's name at his place beforehand;
that makes it more convenient about taking seats."
"Then I beg you, madame, not to put me beside this stranger, this
Italian count."
"On the contrary, Juliette, you must sit beside him. As he is coming
here for the purpose of meeting you, he must be able to talk with you."
"You know that I never talk, madame; put him beside you, he will be much
better pleased."
"But, Juliette, I am not the one whom this gentleman wants to marry."
"That's a great pity!"
"What a child it is! The best I can do is to place the count between us,
at my left; at my right, I shall put the man who deals in sugar, who is
very agreeable, so Madame Putiphar assures me. Whom shall I put next to
him? It's very embarrassing! It's a regular science to arrange your
company right."
"Put Monsieur Brid'oison there."
"No, we must have a lady next to a man; the sexes should be mingled as
much as possible. Ah! Madame Putiphar; this gentleman knows her, and he
will be very glad to talk with her. And then--great heavens! what a
puzzle! Ah! Monsieur Callé--that will do; Monsieur Callé, then Madame
Brid'oison, Monsieur Mirotaine, Madame Trichon, and Monsieur Brid'oison.
There! it's all done."
"But that makes only ten, and there are eleven plates. You have
forgotten to write a slip for one guest."
"Pshaw! whom have I forgotten?"
"Artaban--young Brid'oison."
"Oh! to be sure; he's not a pleasant neighbor, that urchin; his father
makes him do gymnastic exercises, and he's always thrashing about to
show his limberness and strength; he keeps kicking you if you're near
him."
"Put him next to me; I don't care."
"No; we'll put him between his father and Madame Trichon; they will make
him keep quiet. Now, it's arranged as well as possible. I must run and
finish dressing; for it's after four o'clock. And you, Juliette?"
"I am all ready, madame."
"But your hair is done very badly; and not an ornament in it--not a
flower!"
"What's the use?"
"What do you say? what's the use? when it's a matter of marrying a
millionaire count!"
"You know perfectly well that I love Lucien."
"Oh! bless my soul! love your Lucien all you please, but marry the
count; that's all we ask of you."
Aldegonde returned to her room to finish dressing; and Juliette to hers,
still cursing the second-hand clothes woman; while Monsieur Mirotaine,
who had completed his toilet, appeared in the dining-room and walked
around the table, carefully scrutinizing everything that was on it.
"What an array! what a feast! what fuss and feathers! Three glasses at
each plate!--why three glasses? Are they supposed to drink three times
at once? Ah! these are champagne glasses! How lucky I was to find some
champagne for one franc twenty-five! What are all these things?
radishes, butter, little onions! What profusion!"
Monsieur Mirotaine began to count the pickles:
"Nine, ten, twelve pickles! and they're big ones, too! That's much too
many."
He took away four and put them in his pocket.
"That leaves quite enough. Now for the onions! there are too many of
them too."
He took a handful of pickled onions, which he also stuffed into his coat
pocket. Then it was the radishes' turn; as there were a great many of
them in the dish, he took out two large handfuls, which went to join the
onions and pickles. The only thing left for him to reckon with was the
butter; he stopped in front of it and reflected as to how much he could
safely put aside; but at that moment the bell rang, and Monsieur
Mirotaine had barely time to lick his fingers, with which he had seized
the butter.
VI
YOUNG ARTABAN'S GYMNASTICS
The Brid'oison family arrived first of the guests. Monsieur Brid'oison:
a tall, gaunt man, with the face of a fox, somewhat softened in outline
by frequent use of the juice of the grape; but still austere in manner
when he was sober. Madame: a tall, yellow-skinned woman, with a face
like an axe, red-eyed, and addicted to long, corkscrew curls which hung
down to her shoulders. And, lastly, their son Artaban, eight years of
age, with curly hair, a flat nose, a long, pointed chin, hands always
black with dirt, and an impudent manner; he constantly walked with his
head near the ground and his legs in the air, and made his father's
bosom swell with pride by so doing.
"Here we are!" said Monsieur Brid'oison; "we have come early, but I
don't like to keep people waiting; there are those who claim that it's
good form, but I call it the worst kind of form. How are you, Mirotaine!
where are the ladies?"
"Still at their toilet, I presume; women are never done, you know, when
they set out to dress."
"Oh! for my part, it don't take me long," said Madame Brid'oison; "five
minutes is enough for me."
"Yes, I started my wife right. 'Égilde,' I said to her, 'if you are not
dressed in five minutes, I warn you that I won't wait; I'll start
without you.'--I tell you, I'm a martinet for being on time!"
"That made me awfully unhappy at first. One day, we were going to dine
out; Brid'oison called up to me: 'I'm all ready' and I hadn't put on my
garters! I went without 'em, but it bothered me all the time."