"What do you suppose can be troubling me?"
"Nothing, I trust! But I ask you the question."
"My dear, so long as you love me, nothing will ever trouble me."
"So much the better; in that case, nothing ever will. I was thinking
that, as we are not always together--that is to say, in my absence you
might have had visitors."
"You are mistaken, my dear; for me, you are never absent; you are
constantly in my thoughts."
Adhémar put his mistress's hand to his lips. But in a few minutes his
brow darkened anew; he drew a long breath, then exclaimed:
"This is very strange!"
"What is, my dear?"
"It smells of tobacco smoke here."
"Do you think so? I don't smell anything."
"Oh! that's because you don't choose to. It smells of tobacco, and of
poor tobacco, too! I should think that someone had been smoking a pipe
here."
Madame Dermont turned her head away as she replied:
"It may have been the water carrier who brought the smell here."
"The water carrier? I didn't suppose that he came into your bedroom, and
your kitchen is some distance away. That was not a happy reply."
"Mon Dieu! my dear, what do you mean by that? Not a happy reply! Do you
mean to say that you attach any importance to such a trifle?"
"A trifle! You know, madame, the proverb says that there's no smoke
without some fire; and, in like manner, there's no smell of tobacco
smoke without a smoker. I came too early to-day, probably!"
"What do you mean by that, monsieur?"
"I mean--it's easy enough to understand! You have had some visitor who
was smoking. The devil! a man must be on very familiar terms with a lady
to smoke in her bedroom! Who has been here to see you so early?"
Nathalie paced the floor impatiently, murmuring:
"What a lot of questions about a smell that may have come from the
neighbor's!"
"Oh, no! you have no neighbor on this side."
"So this is your confidence in me, Adhémar?--'I shall never be jealous,'
you said."
"Women are the most astonishing creatures! When you ask them a question,
they answer with another, which is a very clever way of not answering at
all. Will you tell me who has been here this morning, who has had the
presumption to smoke a pipe in your apartment, or, at all events, to
poison the air with the smell of a pipe?"
"No one, monsieur."
"Very well, madame; I came too early to-day; that will teach me a lesson
for another time."
And Adhémar seized his hat and rushed from the room; while Nathalie,
having at first started to detain him, overcame the impulse to do so.
"She has certainly had a visitor who smoked," said Adhémar to himself,
as he went away, "but she won't admit it. I don't claim that she
shouldn't receive anyone at all; but if that was an innocent visit, she
wouldn't have denied it. So she evidently has mysteries--secrets from
me. Therefore, she deceives me; she's no better than the rest. Ah, me! I
ought to have expected it! It's all over; I will never go to her house
again!"
All day long, the jealous wretch kept repeating those words: "I will
never go to her house again!" And he rushed hither and thither, to cafés
and theatres and parties; did all that he could to divert his thoughts,
and did not succeed. The next day he was very much depressed, and said
to himself as he went out:
"I will not go to see her, that is sure! What a shame! I loved her so
dearly--more than I have ever before loved a woman! That makes her
treachery the more outrageous. Ah! I was very wise to make up my mind
that I would never care for any woman again."
Musing thus as he walked, Adhémar arrived in front of the house where
Madame Dermont lived.
"So much for habit!" he thought. "I came here without knowing it. But I
won't go in. Still, I may as well walk in this neighborhood as anywhere.
I'll look at her windows; that will give me something to think about."
For two hours he walked up and down in front of the house, gazing at
Nathalie's windows, walking rapidly away when he fancied that he saw
someone through the glass, and sighing when he saw no one. Suddenly he
felt a hand on his shoulder; it was one of his colleagues, who said to
him:
"What on earth are you doing here, Adhémar? Are you on the lookout for a
scene or a dénouement?"
"Faith! yes; I was thinking over a new subject."
"Come with me; you can tell me your plan as we walk."
"I'll go with you gladly; but I won't tell you anything, because you
would want to be in the play."
"Well! I would do my share."
"Thanks, I know you! you hang around, you make absurd remarks, you abuse
your confrères, you find fault with everything that others do, and never
produce anything yourself. That's the way you do your share!"
"You are very polite this morning! I am in several plays, nevertheless,
which have had some success."
"Yes, I am well aware that you are; but that doesn't prove that you had
anything to do with them. We know how it's worked on the stage nowadays,
all the scheming and jobbing that go on there!"
"You are in a savage mood to-day! Do you know that I should be justified
in demanding satisfaction for what you have said?"
"Oh! I'm at your service. Do you want to fight? I ask nothing better."
"And I haven't the slightest desire to do it! You're in a bad temper,
and I am not. You're looking for a quarrel, and I am looking for sport.
Adieu!"
"He is right," Adhémar reflected, when he was alone again. "I am ugly,
because she has made me unhappy. It's always the women who make us what
we are!"
The next day, after long hesitation, Adhémar surrendered; he could not
resist his ardent longing to see her whom he had tried in vain to
forget.
"The idea," he thought, "of losing my temper, of quarrelling over a
smell of tobacco smoke, which may have come from the neighbor's after
all! Pshaw! there's no sense in that!"
He flew rather than ran to Madame Dermont's, and did not give the
servant time to warn her mistress, but rushed into her room. Nathalie
was alone, but her eyes were red and tears were still standing in them.
Adhémar threw himself at her feet, seized her hands, and covered them
with kisses.
"Forgive me! forgive me! I have made you unhappy. In pity's name,
forgive me!"
"Three days without coming to see me! Ah! my friend, is this your love
for me?"
"Why, yes, yes, I adore you, and that is why I am so jealous."
"I forbade you to be jealous, and you promised. Have you ceased to
believe in my love?"
"I am a guilty wretch--I am, indeed--since I have made you shed tears."
"I thought it was all over, that you would never come again."
"As if that would be possible! As if I could exist without you! But let
us forget this storm; you forgive me, don't you?"
"Yes, of course. But, I beg you, my dear, don't give way to these
transports of jealousy. Suspicion wounds the most loving heart."
"It is all over. I am cured."
Peace was concluded, and once more the most perfect harmony reigned
between those two, who were so well suited to each other. A fortnight
had passed since the reconciliation, when the ill-fated odor of tobacco
was once more perceptible in Madame Dermont's apartments when her lover
came to see her during the day. Adhémar said nothing. He even determined
not to show that he noticed the smell. He tried to be as amiable and
lively as usual; but, in spite of his efforts, he was distraught and
often replied at random to what Nathalie said to him. She too, probably
suspecting the cause of his preoccupation, was decidedly embarrassed.
Adhémar prolonged his visit, however, and had been with his mistress a
considerable time, when, as he glanced aimlessly about the room, he
spied something on the floor, close against the long window curtains,
which partially covered it. That object, which was of peculiar shape,
aroused our author's curiosity, and, seizing a moment when Nathalie was
arranging some flowers, he walked quickly across the room and picked up
what he had seen. He examined it at close quarters and was stupefied to
see that it was a pipe case.
"You can't tell me now that you do not receive visits from a smoker!"
cried Adhémar, well-nigh speechless with rage.
"What is it now, my friend?" replied Nathalie, leaving her flowers.
"What is it! Mon Dieu! madame, the veriest trifle. See! this is what I
just picked up, over by your window, where you hoped, no doubt, that it
was well hidden."
"What is it, monsieur?"
"Don't you know what it is, madame?"
"No, I give you my word that I haven't an idea."
"Well, it's a pipe case--a filthy pipe case, which smells pestiferous.
The pipe isn't inside; probably the person to whom it belongs was
smoking when he went away."
Nathalie blushed and frowned slightly, but said nothing. Adhémar's wrath
waxed hotter; he scrutinized the case anew, then handed it to the young
woman.
"Here, madame--pray take it; you can return it to the man who owns it.
Ah! so I was not mistaken the other day in thinking that you had
received a visitor who smoked?"
"Well, monsieur, suppose it were true? All men smoke, nowadays."
"All men? Aha! so you admit now that you have received a man--and in
your bedroom! Who is he? where did he come from? what did he come here
for? How long has he been coming here? Answer me, madame!"
"No, monsieur, no; I will not answer when I am questioned as you
question me!"
"Oh, yes! that's an excellent scheme, I see! When you women can't think
up a lie on the spur of the moment, you fall back on your dignity. That
does very well with simpletons, but I hoped that you wouldn't treat me
as one of them. I had too much self-esteem!"
"Adhémar, this is a very brutal way to talk to me! Is this how you keep
your promises?"
"Madame, a man is never jealous without some reason. I was right before;
I have the proof of it to-day. You must have intrigues, since you
conceal from me the visits you receive. And when a woman has intrigues,
when she receives men in secret--why, everybody knows what that means!"
"Ah! monsieur----"
"You deceive me just as all the others have! I ought to have expected
it. And yet, I thought that I had had better fortune this time. Ah!
these women! But it is all over now, all over! I will never be their
dupe again!"
And Adhémar dashed the pipe case, which he still held, on the floor, and
rushed from the room, frantic with rage, without looking at Nathalie.
XIII
A YOUNG MAN WHO DID NOT SMOKE
You will remember that after the famous dinner given by Mirotaine, at
which Dubotté had recognized in the soi-disant Italian count an
apothecary of Pontoise, the latter had instantly left the company; and
that, very shortly thereafter, Dodichet had done the same, declaring his
purpose to challenge Miflorès, who had deceived him by holding himself
out as a bachelor. But he had no sooner left the Mirotaine abode than,
instead of pursuing Seringat, whom he was certain of finding at home the
next day, Dodichet betook himself to the address given by Lucien, to
whom he was anxious to relate all that he had done in the interest of
his love affair.
Having arrived on Quai Jemmapes, by way of Pont du Faubourg du Temple,
Dodichet said to himself:
"I wonder which corner it is--the right or the left? I forgot to ask him
that. I'll go to both. On the left, I was told, used to stand the famous
Vendanges de Bourgogne--a restaurant which was noted for its sheep's
feet, and used to be a great place for weddings and banquets. _Sic
transit gloria mundi._ On the right, there used to be nothing but
swamps, I believe. I'll begin at the left. I can't be too sure of
finding Lucien at home. A bachelor doesn't stay in his room in the
evening; indeed, he often goes out during the day, and sometimes sleeps
out. Never mind; perhaps they can tell me what café he usually goes to
for his cigar; for he must smoke somewhere."
In the first house at which Dodichet asked for Lucien Grischard, the
reply was:
"This is the place, monsieur."
"Ah! is it, indeed? Excellent! Where am I likely to find him in the
evening?"
"Why, in his room, monsieur."
"What! does he stay at home in the evening? doesn't he ever go out?"
"Very rarely, monsieur."
"Then he is in now?"
"Go up to the sixth floor--the door at the left; you'll find him in."
"What a strange mortal!" thought Dodichet, as he climbed up the stairs;
"to stay at home in the evening! To be sure, if he received visits from
ladies! But that is not probable."
When he reached the sixth floor, Dodichet tapped on the left-hand door,
and a voice called out:
"Come in; the door is unlocked."
Dodichet turned the knob, and found himself in a tiny room with a very
sloping roof. A bed without curtains, a large table used as a desk, two
chairs and a mirror, were substantially all the furniture the room
contained; and yet it seemed well furnished, because shelves were nailed
to the wall on all sides, containing, instead of books, small pasteboard
boxes, all of uniform size. There were many of them on the table too,
but those were empty; and at that moment Lucien was seated at the table,
engaged in filling the boxes with long black pins, of which he had an
enormous quantity before him. By way of robe de chambre, he wore a long
flannel jacket, patched in several places, and on his head was a sort of
cap which had lost its visor. The room was but dimly lighted by a small
lamp; however, Lucien recognized his visitor at once.
"Halloo, Dodichet!" he cried. "To what chance do I owe the pleasure of
seeing you at my quarters? I assure you that I wasn't expecting you!"
"I am sure of that. But I am very fond of going where I am not expected.
Is this where you live?"
"Yes, my friend."
"And there's only this one room; is this all?"
"Absolutely all. It's quite enough for a single man."
"Quite enough! You're not hard to suit. Where am I to sit down, pray?"
"Where you please."
"Where I please? But I don't see any chair."
"Why, yes, I have two. Wait a moment; the other one is covered with my
clothes; I used it as a commode; I'll clear it for you."
Lucien removed his clothes from the chair to the bed, then returned to
his occupation, saying to his visitor:
"Now, sit down and tell me what brings you here. I must go on working,
because I am in a hurry."
"Oh! don't mind me! It's infernally cramped here, all the same! What the
devil are you doing there?"
"As you see, I am putting these pins in boxes. I have to arrange them
carefully and see that there's the same number in every box."
"How does this business of yours come on?"
"Not so badly; it rather looks as if it were going to take. I tell you,
my fortune would be made, if I had been able to discover, as Rozière of
Romainville did, all that can be done with Panama!"
"With Panama! why, they make straw hats with it, I thought."
"But Rozière made soap with it that cleanses perfectly, and many other
things too."
Having seated himself, Dodichet said:
"First of all, before I tell you what brings me here, just lend me your
_bouffarde_, will you; I want to have a puff."
"My _bouffarde_?"
"Yes; or your pipe, if you like that better."
"But I haven't any pipe."
"No pipe? you surprise me! It's less expensive than cigars. Well, then,
give me a cigar--as dry a one as you can."
"I haven't any cigars either."
"The devil! I seem to have caught you at low tide. In that case, pass me
your tobacco pouch and I'll make a cigarette."
"I am distressed, my dear Dodichet, to be obliged to refuse you again;
but I haven't a particle of tobacco here."
"No tobacco! you haven't any tobacco! That is a good one! Do you smoke
straw, then? For, of course, you must smoke something?"
"Why so? as a matter of fact, I don't smoke at all. I have neither the
time nor the inclination; and, frankly, I don't see the necessity."
"You don't smoke--at your age! You poor devil! you must be horribly
bored!"
"That's where you are mistaken; I am never bored, for I am always at
work. Why do so many men smoke? Because they have nothing to do, and
don't know how to employ their time, which seems to them murderously
long; so they smoke and imagine that they're doing something, that they
are busy. That is a wretched occupation which serves only to encourage
indolence!"
"I say, Lucien, do you know that you tire me with your moral reflections
about smokers?"
"Well, my dear friend, you shouldn't call me a poor devil because I
don't smoke; I just answered you, that's all; I will add that I should
apply the same term to those young men who smoke all the time, who
always have a pipe or cigar in their mouths. In the first place, they
smell detestable; secondly, they ruin their lungs; and, lastly, they
spend a great deal of money; it doesn't seem much, because it's only a
little at a time; but the smallest sum, when you keep putting it out
every minute or two, amounts to a good round sum at the end of a year.
To workingmen especially, this habit of smoking is disastrous, and it
has impoverished more than one family."
"Do you expect with your sermons to cure smokers of smoking? If you do,
you're devilishly mistaken!"
"Oh! I have no idea of curing anybody. I simply tell you my
opinion--opinions are free."
"But you see, Lucien, when you have once acquired the habit of smoking,
that's the end of it; you can't give it up."
"I beg your pardon, my dear friend, but a man can break himself of any
habit; all you need is a firm will; if you could make me believe
otherwise, it would amount to convincing me that all men are maniacs,
machines, automata which are obliged to do the same things over and over
again; and that would make me grieve for mankind! I haven't mentioned
all the fires and accidents caused by the carelessness of smokers. Why,
Mademoiselle Juliette Mirotaine has a friend who had her dress all
burned on the boulevard by a match which someone had thrown on the
sidewalk without taking the trouble to step on it."
"I always step on mine!--But let's drop the subject. You're sure that
you haven't so much as a pinch of tobacco in your pouch?"
"I haven't a pouch even. What the devil should I do with one?"
"He has no pouch! you hear him, great God, and you don't blast
him!--Well, when I leave you, I am going to see some ladies--ladies, do
you hear?--and I am very sure that they'll have some tobacco for me."
"That is possible, as there are some ladies who smoke nowadays."
"Yes, my dear friend. Oh! you needn't shrug your shoulders! The fair sex
is for tobacco."
"There are ladies and ladies!"
"Well, let's drop it.--I will be brief: my dear friend, I have just done
you a very great service."
"You have! how so?"
"I have just come from Monsieur Mirotaine's, where I dined."
"Mon Dieu! you make me shudder!"
"Nay, rather rejoice! I had seen the wardrobe dealer, and told her that
I had a very rich count who wanted to marry and who would not ask for
any dowry."
"I asked you not to play any wretched practical joke."
"True; but I didn't listen to you, and it's well I didn't; for
everything went off as if it was on wheels."
"Whom did you present as the man who wanted a wife?"
"Someone who can't refuse me anything, who plays whatever part I assign
to him, because I know a certain secret. Ha! ha! ha! Poor
Miflorès-Seringat! or Seringat-Miflorès!--There's a pigeon whom
Providence placed in my hand most opportunely!"
"Go on! what happened at Monsieur Mirotaine's?"
"We had a fairly good dinner, except for the vin ordinaire, which was
only too plentiful, the champagne, which tasted like Rogé's purgative
lemonade, and the _crême à la vanille_, which was sweetened with
camphor. My false count didn't say a word, but confined himself to
eating; as I had said, however, that he wanted a chance to study the
young lady before he proposed, everything went well; but, after dinner,
while we were in the salon, picking up radishes and pickles which
Mirotaine had in reserve in his pocket, lo and behold! Dubotté arrived
with his wife--a pretty little blonde, on my word!--Would you believe
that Dubotté recognized my pseudo-count, and said to him: 'How are you,
Seringat? how's your good wife?'--You can imagine the sensation!--Papa
Mirotaine was furious, the wardrobe woman confused, the guests stared at
one another in amazement,--and my soi-disant marrying man took his legs
in his hand, after consigning to the devil the man who had asked him
about his wife. In the midst of all that confusion, I had great
difficulty in keeping from roaring with laughter.--Monsieur Mirotaine
questioned me; he undertook to be wrathful, but I mounted a higher horse
than he; I declared that Miflorès had fooled and deceived me, and that I
was going to demand satisfaction from him. I came away, and here I
am!--Well, what do you say to that?"
"I say that you did wrong to play this farce, and I am afraid that it
will do me more harm than good."
"Why, no, it won't; the old miser, disgusted with the idea of
prospective husbands he doesn't know, will refuse to receive any more of
them, and will consent to give you his daughter."
"I have no hope that things will turn out so."
"You're an ungrateful wretch!--Try to oblige your friends, and this is
the reward you get! And he can't even give me a bit of tobacco!"
"You intended to be useful to me, my dear Dodichet, and I thank you for
it; but, I say again, I am not at all at ease as to the results of your
ill-timed jest."
"If you smoked, you wouldn't be so timid! Adieu, virtuous man, prudent
man, indefatigable worker! Adieu, O most extraordinary man--who doesn't
smoke! You are not of your epoch!"
"That may be! but I am perfectly sure that a time will come when
Frenchmen will have become courteous and refined once more, and will be
unable to understand how their ancestors could have smoked so much!"
"Adieu! I fly now in quest of my treasurer; I must see him, for the
waters are low, and I want to buy a gorgeous costume for my début in the
rôle of Joconde."
"At the Opéra-Comique?"
"No; at Quimper-Corentin."
Lucien returned to his boxes of pins, reflecting upon all that Dodichet
had told him.
"As a matter of prudence," he thought, "I shall do well to wait a few
days before appearing at Monsieur Mirotaine's; he must be very angry at
having been made a dupe; I will give his anger time to subside; I will
wait until he has partly forgotten to-day's occurrences, so that he
cannot guess that I know anything about them."
But during the week that passed before Lucien went to Mirotaine's,
Dubotté had entertained young Callé at dinner, and, as we have seen, had
told his guest why Dodichet had conceived the idea of bringing forward a
husband for Mademoiselle Juliette; that it was in the hope of serving
his friend Lucien's interests. Young Callé, who was a great gossip, like
most people who have nothing to do, did not fail to repeat to Aldegonde
all that he had learned at Dubotté's, and the stepmother repeated it to
her husband; whereupon the latter made a scene with his daughter.
"You were in collusion with those wretches," he cried, "those
blackguards who cheated me out of a dinner! it was your Lucien who urged
them to play that joke on me, of which the assize court would take
cognizance! When I see him, I'll tell him what I think of him."
It was of no use for Juliette to protest, to swear that she knew nothing
about it, and that Lucien was incapable of devising the malicious scheme
which they had presumed to carry out--Monsieur Mirotaine was convinced
of the contrary; and when, two days later, poor Lucien appeared before
his love's father, humble and smiling, and inquired for his health,
Monsieur Mirotaine flew into a rage and pushed him toward the door,
crying:
"My health! You have the insolence to come to inquire for my health,
after making a fool of me to such a point that it made me ill! You are
very bold to show your face before me again!"
"Why, monsieur," stammered Lucien, in dire dismay, "what have I done
that you should treat me like this?"
"What have you done? He pretends not to know! But you can't fool me,
monsieur!--Think of the dinner I was forced to give--a dinner of eleven
covers! three courses! and my old claret! And that Italian count--who
was only an apothecary--whom Dodichet introduced as a millionaire in
search of a wife--when he already had one at Pontoise! And the coffee
and liqueurs! Your friend Dodichet helped himself to cognac three times!
Can you deny that he's your friend, and that he invented that abominable
farce in the hope of helping on your love for my daughter?"
"If Dodichet did that to do me a service, I swear to you on my honor,
monsieur, that it was done against my will; that I expressly forbade him
to attempt the slightest liberty with you!"