unacquainted, had begun by going over the first floor, then had gone up
to the second, and, unluckily for him, had noticed the corridor first of
all, and walked to the end of it to find out where it led. He had
opened the door and found himself in the little toilet-room, and, as
owner of the house, had deemed it proper to see if it was comfortably
arranged. But the infernal door had closed, and, in his struggles to get
out, Chamoureau had tried in vain to open it with his fingers and even
with his nails. Then he had begun to call and shout, thinking that they
would notice that he was missing and would search for him.
But Thélénie had something else in her head, and not until the dinner
hour arrived did she remember her husband. So that the new owner of the
house had passed more than six hours in the little toilet-room--from
half-past twelve until a quarter to seven; for his voice, stifled by the
thick door, was not strong enough to reach the end of the long corridor,
upon which several rooms opened, but all were unoccupied.
“_Credié_; this is very lucky!” cried Chamoureau, as yellow as a quince
after his prolonged stay in the little room; and he rushed out into the
corridor so quickly that Mademoiselle Mélie fell back on the coachman,
who fell back on the gardener, who, having no one to support him, fell
on his centre of gravity, saying:
“What! the bourgeois has been in that closet since morning! He must be
feeling pretty bad!”
“What animal, what ass, what brute, ever had the idea of putting on a
door that closes of itself, without a knob or a latch to open it on the
inside?” cried Chamoureau. “Sapristi! I shan’t forget that sitting very
soon! To-morrow I will have three knobs put on that door and have it
fixed so that it can’t close itself.--Didn’t you people hear me shout?”
“No, monsieur, of course not; if we had heard you, we shouldn’t have had
to look for you very long.”
“Well! this has been rather an unpleasant apprenticeship; it’s been a
terribly long day to me. If I have got to pass my time in the country
this way, I’ll go back to Paris at once!”
“Dinner was served long ago, and madame is waiting for monsieur at
table.”
“She’s waiting for me at table! She doesn’t seem to have been very
anxious about me! Well, I’ll go to dinner; I need refreshment.”
“Poor dear man!” muttered the gardener; “I should think so!”
“Here you are at last, monsieur! Where on earth were you hiding? what
pretty behavior now! to make us scour the whole place for you!” said
Thélénie when her husband appeared in the dining-room.
“I did not hide for my own amusement, madame. I have been a prisoner in
a place which I certainly should not have selected for a prison.”
“A prisoner! what do you mean by that?”
Chamoureau explained to his wife what had happened to him. When she
learned where her husband had passed the day, she laughed so loud and
long that it seemed as if she would never stop. This outburst of
hilarity seemed decidedly unseasonable to Chamoureau; but he wreaked
his vengeance on the dinner; he ate enough for four, so that Thélénie
said to him:
“For heaven’s sake, monsieur, do you want to give yourself an attack of
indigestion?”
“I have a right to, madame! When a man has passed six hours in that
place, he owes himself some compensation.”
IX
THE GOLDFISH
On the following day Thélénie said to her husband:
“Monsieur, you will be dressed at two o’clock, when we will have the
horses put in the calèche and go to pay some visits.”
“Visits! to whom, pray, madame? we don’t know anyone here.”
“That is the very reason why we must make acquaintances. We do not
propose to live like bears, I presume?”
“My dear love, I never pretended to pass for a bear; in the first place,
I haven’t that animal’s hairy coat.--We will go then; and where shall we
go?”
“Don’t worry about that; I have obtained through Mélie a list of the
principal people of the village.”
“Does your maid know them?”
“You don’t understand, monsieur, that servants go to the fruit-shops and
the butchers, and in ten minutes learn all they want to know.”
“That is true; I am a donkey.--Shall I dress in black?”
“Why not?”
“White cravat?”
“To be sure; don’t you know that it is the dress which commands
consideration, before all else?”
“I shall be most imposing, madame.”
“Do your utmost, monsieur.”
At two o’clock, Thélénie was arrayed in a lovely gown, made in the best
possible taste; the carriage was ready and waiting in the courtyard.
Madame came down and looked about for her husband.
“Where is monsieur, pray?”
“We do not know, madame.”
“What on earth does this mean? I told him to be ready at two o’clock,
and it’s after two. Probably he hasn’t finished dressing. Go and tell
him to hurry. I am waiting.”
The maid went up to monsieur’s apartment. In a moment she returned and
said:
“Monsieur is not in his room, madame, but he must be dressed, for I saw
on the chairs the clothes he had on this morning.”
“He is dressed, and yet he is not here! Really Monsieur de Belleville is
becoming insufferable; always having to be hunted for! Can it be that he
is a prisoner again in--you know, the place where he was yesterday? Let
someone visit all the toilet-rooms in the house; then, if monsieur is
there again, we shall find him.”
The servants executed their mistress’s orders; meanwhile Thélénie
stepped into the calèche, murmuring impatiently:
“Mon Dieu! what an idiot I have married! but after all, he is just what
I needed.”
The servants returned, having visited all the most secret corners of the
house and failed to find their master. This time it was certain that he
was not in the house. They were about to look for him in the garden,
when he suddenly appeared in the distance, drenched to the skin, with
his hair glued to his face, and covered with mud from head to foot.
“Oh! monsieur! what a sight you are!” cried Thélénie; “where have you
been, then? Don’t come near me; you are disgusting.”
“I am dripping wet, it’s true. I fell into the pond, my dear love. You
know, we have a fine pond on our place.”
“Yes, monsieur, I do know it; but I should say that it was visible to
the naked eye, and that it can hardly be mistaken for a lawn in broad
daylight.”
“And so, madame, I saw perfectly well that it was a pond.--I was dressed
before the time, for I did not want to keep you waiting; and, seeing
that I had a few minutes to spare, I walked about our magnificent
gardens. I spied the pond--I didn’t see it yesterday; I went close to
it and looked in. What did I see? red, cherry-colored, orange fishes! It
was a fascinating sight; I was dazzled. I saw one that gleamed so that
its scales seemed to be gold! Faith, in my curiosity to see him nearer,
I leaned over to catch him; he slipped through my fingers; I leaned over
farther, and _pouf!_ I fell in among the fish and came near drowning;
there’s a lot of water there!”
“Oh, no! monsieur--only two feet and a half.”
“Three feet, madame; and then, the fish blinded me; I couldn’t find the
bank. However, I succeeded in getting out.”
“And in a pretty state! You don’t expect to come with me in that
condition, I take it?”
“No, madame; I am going to change.”
“Make haste. What an idea, to try to catch one of those fish! Really,
monsieur, you are worse than a child!”
“Ah! I have no luck in this place.”
“Go, quickly, and change your clothes.”
Chamoureau went up to his room. He was obliged to make an entire change.
However, as he had but one black coat and his wife had told him to dress
in black, he had no choice but to put that one on again; but he wiped it
so carefully and rubbed it with so many towels, that it was soon in
condition to be worn, and indeed was as glossy and shining as a new one.
Chamoureau entered the calèche, but, although he was well cleansed,
madame required him to sit opposite her, not by her side. She found
that he retained from his bath an odor of goldfish which made her sick.
They drove first to Madame Droguet’s; she was at the head of the list
which Thélénie consulted.
When the calèche stopped at Madame Droguet’s door, it caused a general
turmoil in the house. Everybody ran upstairs or downstairs, crying:
“A carriage for us!”
“The new owners of Goldfish Villa!”
“Monsieur and Madame de Belleville coming here!”
“Joséphine, my cap with bunches of jasmine.”
“Yes, madame.”
“Monsieur Droguet, run and put on a black coat.”
“Yes, wife. Must I change my waistcoat too?”
“Yes, if you have time. Mon Dieu! here they are! and I haven’t my
jasmine cap! Joséphine, let them wait a moment in the salon. Say that
I--that I----”
“I will say that madame is washing her hands.”
“No, indeed! that would be nice! You will say that I am taking a foot
bath; that is much more _comme il faut_.”
Meanwhile Monsieur and Madame de Belleville had entered the house and
given their names to the concierge, who performed the duties of footman
as well.
Joséphine came to say that her mistress was taking a foot bath, and
requested them to have the kindness to wait a moment in the salon into
which she ushered them.
Thélénie proceeded at once to take a survey of the room, while
Chamoureau gazed at the two full-length portraits, life size,
representing the master and the mistress of the house.
“It’s very fine here,” he murmured; “handsome furniture, rich paper, and
a superb clock!”
“Hush, monsieur! all this is in execrable taste, and the portraits alone
are enough to tell us what sort of people they represent--rich grocers,
I fancy. Never mind; let us be very agreeable; we must dazzle all these
people, and it ought not to be very difficult.”
Madame Droguet soon arrived, with her cap a little too much over one
ear; but that gave the ex-vivandière a martial look which was not
unbecoming to her.
Monsieur Droguet came at his wife’s heels, in a very short coat and a
too long waistcoat, which lacked several buttons; but he had not had
time to notice it.
They bestowed a most affable welcome on their new neighbors; it was easy
to see that Thélénie’s genuine refinement produced a deep impression on
Madame Droguet, who confounded herself in compliments and courtesies, at
the same time saying to her husband in an undertone:
“Button yourself up!”
And he, thinking that his wife referred to his waistcoat, murmured with
a contrite expression:
“The buttons are missing.”
Thélénie informed Madame Droguet that she proposed to give dinners,
receptions, festivities of all sorts, and that she should hope for her
company as well as her husband’s.
The corpulent dame was beside herself with joy, and Monsieur Droguet
wrenched off one of the two remaining buttons of his waistcoat.
They then proceeded to discuss the question of the other persons to be
invited. Madame Droguet named her own particular friends, and Thélénie
asked with an indifferent air:
“Haven’t you a certain Madame Dalmont here--a so-called widow, who has a
young woman living with her?”
“Yes, we have,” replied Madame Droguet with a sneering smile. “But,
between us, dear Madame de Belleville, I don’t think that they are
people worthy to be received at your house. In the first place, they are
not polite. When they came here to live they did not call upon us as is
customary.”
“That indicates at once a lack of _savoir-vivre_.”
“Does it not, madame? Then they have struck up a friendship with a very
low-lived person, a sort of wolf, whom nobody in the neighborhood cared
to know, and who seems to be on the best of terms with them already. He
walks home with them at night. And then----”
“What! isn’t that all?”
“A young man from Paris, named Edmond Didier, hired a house here in
Chelles, soon after those strangers came here. And since he’s been here,
he passes almost all his time at their house, until it’s got to be a
perfect scandal. I am not evil-minded certainly, but there are things
one can’t help seeing.--Let your waistcoat alone, Droguet, and button
yourself up!”
“What you tell me on the subject of these women, madame, does not
surprise me in the least,” cried Thélénie, delighted by what she had
heard. “We have known Monsieur Edmond Didier a long while; my husband
was once very intimate with him----”
At this point, Chamoureau, who had not been able as yet to put in a word
and had confined himself to watching Monsieur Droguet as he felt for the
missing buttons or wrenched off the others,--Chamoureau thought that he
saw an opportunity to speak.
“Yes,” he said, “I used to know Monsieur Edmond Didier--that is to say,
through Freluchon, who used--at the time when----”
Thélénie made haste to cut him short:
“In fact, madame, we heard in Paris that Monsieur Edmond had formed a
liaison unworthy of him, which distressed his family; for what you have
told me of this Dalmont woman corresponds perfectly with what people
think of her in Paris, where she is looked upon as a scheming
adventuress; and doubtless her young friend is little better; birds of a
feather flock together.”
Madame de Belleville, who was doing her best to play the _grande dame_,
forgot that it was not good form to quote proverbs; but it was as right
as possible in the eyes of Madame Droguet, who was radiant with delight
and exclaimed:
“You hear, Droguet; they’re adventuresses, nobodies! I was sure of it,
myself; I am never mistaken in my conjectures; didn’t I say so, only
last night, to Doctor Antoine, who undertook to stand up for
them!--Just be sick, Droguet, be sick, my dear man; I tell you
beforehand that I won’t send for the doctor.”
Monsieur Droguet, who had finally found one button of his waistcoat
firmly attached, had just buttoned it with an air of proud satisfaction,
and seemed to pay little heed to what his wife said.
At that moment Chamoureau was seized with a paroxysm of sneezing, which
ended in a shower and spattered his neighbors; he hurriedly drew his
handkerchief, to make his nose presentable; but in his haste to unfold
it, he threw into Madame Droguet’s face an object which slid down that
lady’s cheek into her bosom, where it disappeared. She uttered a shriek,
her husband jumped backward, and Thélénie glared sternly at Chamoureau,
as she demanded:
“What was that you threw at madame?”
“I, threw something at madame! why I had nothing to throw.”
Meanwhile Madame Droguet had thrown herself back in her chair, shrieking
frantically:
“Oh! take it away! oh! the horrid beast! what kind of a creature is it?
It’s still there; it’s slipped down inside my corsets! Take it away!
take it away! or I’ll scratch someone!”
Chamoureau stared at her with a terrified expression, but he did not
move. Monsieur Droguet let his wife shriek, while he tried obstinately
to put another button through its buttonhole.
“Well! does neither of you propose to assist madame?” Thélénie asked
them.
“It seems to me,” muttered Chamoureau, “that it isn’t for me to go
fumbling in that lady’s corsets; that’s her husband’s business.”
Madame Droguet, seeing that no one came to her assistance, concluded to
put her right hand inside her dress. She brought to light a small
goldfish which its enforced sojourn in a warm pocket had deprived of a
great part of its activity.
“A goldfish!” murmured Madame Droguet in amazement. “What! monsieur,”
she added, somewhat reassured when she found that it was not a frog
which she had been warming in her bosom, “do you carry goldfish in your
handkerchief?”
Chamoureau, as the explanation of the incident began to dawn upon him,
turned as red as his fish, and did not know what to say. But Thélénie at
once spoke up and told the story of the accident which had happened to
her husband, and which explained the presence of an inhabitant of the
pond in his coat pocket, unsuspected by him. Thereupon they ended by
laughing at the episode, and to obtain full forgiveness for the fish,
Thélénie invited the Droguet family to dinner on the Thursday following.
The invitation was accepted with profuse thanks and compliments, and
Monsieur and Madame de Belleville took their leave; the Droguets
escorted them to their calèche, and they parted well pleased with one
another.
“Please examine your pockets, monsieur,” said Thélénie, “and make sure
that there are no more goldfish in them, for I have no desire that you
should throw any more of them in the faces of the people we are going to
call upon.”
“I have no more in my pockets, madame.”
“I am not surprised that you have such a horrible smell of fish about
you; why didn’t you change your coat?”
“Because I haven’t any other black one that fits me, madame.”
“Then you must have another one made, monsieur; I believe that you are
rich enough to have more than one coat.”
On leaving Madame Droguet’s, Thélénie drove to the Remplumés, then to
the Jarnouillards, then to the mayor’s, and to all the leading people of
the place, who were extremely flattered by the courtesies and the
invitations they received from Monsieur and Madame de Belleville.
Thélénie overlooked neither Monsieur Luminot nor the doctor; she left at
their houses invitations to dine with her on the Thursday following.
Then they returned to Goldfish Villa, and Chamoureau said to himself:
“I propose to stay quietly in my room, for fear some other unpleasant
accident may happen to me.”
Thélénie, for her part, was well content with her day. She had begun a
campaign of calumny against the persons whom Edmond visited, and she was
persuaded that her spiteful words would soon be repeated and
exaggerated, for calumny is the most agreeable pastime of fools. They
would be of so little account in the world, if they did not speak ill of
their neighbors.
X
AMI BRINGS CERTAIN PERSONS TOGETHER
When the lovelorn Edmond returned from Paris, his first thought always
was to go to Madame Dalmont’s to pay his respects to the two friends and
to indulge himself in the pleasure of reading Agathe’s thoughts in her
eyes.
They did not fail to tell him the story of the sale, although Honorine
attempted to pass over in silence the circumstances that redounded to
her credit; but Agathe told everything.
“Why shouldn’t you tell of your own good deeds?” she said; “as they say
so much ill of us in the neighborhood, that will be some little
compensation.”
“Say ill of you! who has the presumption to do anything of the sort,
when you deserve nothing but praise?” exclaimed Edmond with great heat.
“I have known you only a short time, mesdames, but, thank heaven! I soon
learned to appreciate you! You are not of those persons whose hearts are
a mystery; yours are so kind, so humane!--What Madame Dalmont did for
those people doesn’t surprise me in the least; if she were wealthy, I am
sure that there would be no unfortunates in her neighborhood! I confess,
too, that I feel strongly drawn toward that strange man, the owner of
the Tower, concerning whom the people hereabout spread such absurd
reports. When calumny is rife concerning a person whom I do not know, it
always serves to commend that person to me. What he did for the farmer’s
family was grand, noble, touching! it was like a gust of wind which
swept away in an instant all the petty slanders that were current
concerning him!--But I beg you to answer my question: who has spoken ill
of you?”
The two friends were silent for some time; Agathe blushed and looked at
the floor. At last Honorine decided to speak.
“Agathe thinks that we ought to tell you everything, bad as well as
good; so we will speak frankly, once and for all; I believe, in truth,
that that is the best course to follow.
“First of all, Monsieur Edmond, I must begin by reassuring you, by
begging you to believe that the remarks which are made about us do not
affect us in the least. You have heard of a certain Madame Droguet----”
“That inquisitive woman, who hid a whole day in the bushes, watching for
Monsieur Paul to pass,” added Agathe.
“And who received Freluchon so ill because he called at her house to ask
for me?”
“That is the woman; the specimens of her social circle who came to see
us gave us no desire to know it in its entirety, so we have not called
on Madame Droguet, or her friends Mesdames Jarnouillard and Remplumé.
That was our first offence, but it was a very grave one! to fail to show
to those ladies the consideration that was their due, and thereby to
announce that we did not care for their society--that was an insult
which they could not forgive. They began thereupon to discover that we
were suspicious characters. Then, as you know, chance willed that we
should, on two occasions, accept the escort of the proprietor of the
Tower; he walked home with us one evening when a cow had frightened me
almost to death, and another time when we were surprised by a violent
storm in the country. In a small place like this, it rarely happens that
one returns home without being seen by someone. We were noticed in the
company of that gentleman, who has shown no desire for their
company,--indeed, I believe that I was leaning on his arm, which
necessarily intensified the wrath of those ladies,--and he who, during
the nine years, more or less, that he has lived in this part of the
country, has steadfastly refused all relations with the local
notabilities, actually offers his arm to us--the newest of newcomers!
That incident was the source of a thousand and one absurd remarks. I
come now to another fact which has furnished a subject of calumny to all
these people: you hired a house at Chelles shortly after we came here to
live; you hired a whole house for your single self.”
“What business is that of theirs? I paid six months’ rent in advance.”
“What business is it of theirs? why, monsieur, everything is the
business of those who have nothing to do but to try to find out what is
going on among their neighbors. Well, you come to see us--often; you
call upon no one else in the place; therefore people are bound to think
that you--that you take pleasure in our society.”
“Ah! madame, do you tell me this to make me come less often? Would you
forbid my coming to see you?”
“I do not say that; but----”
Honorine seemed embarrassed; Agathe was trembling from head to foot; and
Edmond hesitated no longer.
“Madame!” he said, “I like to believe that, seeing me come to your house
so persistently, you have never supposed that I was led to come by a
blameworthy desire, a frivolous sentiment. But I realize, nevertheless,
that it is better that I should explain myself, that I should speak to
you frankly, that I should follow your example in everything. I must not
leave any basis for hateful suspicions. Madame, if I tell you that I
love, that I adore Mademoiselle Agathe, I shall tell you nothing that
you do not know; for you must have divined that love, which it would
have been very difficult for me to conceal! But, when I avow my passion
for her, is not that equivalent to saying that my sole desire is to call
her my wife, and that that will be my greatest joy? If I have not told
you earlier, it was because I wanted to know--I wanted to be sure if
Mademoiselle----”
“He wanted to be sure that I loved him, you see, my dear!” cried Agathe,
unable longer to restrain her joy. “And now he is very sure of it; that
is what he was waiting for before speaking.”
“Why, Agathe! what are you saying?” exclaimed Honorine; while the girl,
confused by what had escaped her lips, relapsed into speechless
agitation.
But Edmond impetuously threw himself at Honorine’s feet, saying:
“In pity’s name, madame, do not reprove her, and do not force her to
unsay those words which have made me so happy!”
Honorine gazed at the lovers for a few moments, then smiled and took a
hand of each.
“Be calm, my children!” said she; “I do not look very stern, I imagine.
Come, sit here beside me, and let us talk.--You love Agathe--yes, I do
not doubt it; I had guessed as much; and it is because I have faith in
your honor that I have allowed your visits. She loves you, too; why
should I blame her for it, if this exchange of sentiments is to result
in your happiness? You wish to be her husband, but first of all it is
essential that you should know the whole story of her to whom you wish
to give your name.