“Monsieur Luminot got a little tipsy.”
“Madame de Belleville changed her dress after the second course.”
“Madame Remplumé was sick.”
“Monsieur Jarnouillard counted the different dishes of dessert--there
were thirty-three.”
“They played cards and danced in the evening.”
“Monsieur Droguet fell while waltzing.”
“They played for infernally high stakes. Madame Droguet lost four francs
at lansquenet. But Monsieur Antoine Beaubichon won three at écarté.”
“Everybody went away overflowing with admiration for Monsieur and Madame
de Belleville.”
Such were the remarks which circulated through the village after the
grand banquet. The names of the new owners of the villa were mentioned
in Chelles only with the most profound respect. Monsieur Remplumé even
went so far as to remove his hat when he passed their house. And when
Thélénie pranced through the village on horseback, people ran to their
doors and windows to see her pass, crying:
“There she goes! there she goes! she rides like a dragoon!”
To be sure, there were some urchins who yelled: “_A la chienlit!_” But
those unseemly words were drowned by the applause and cheers.
Thélénie continued to gallop by Madame Dalmont’s house; but Agathe,
instead of watching her, left the window if she were sitting at it,
determined that that lady should not have the satisfaction of
scrutinizing her as she did before.
One afternoon, when Honorine was sitting alone under the great walnut
tree by the roadside, she suddenly heard piercing shrieks not far away.
They evidently proceeded from a child’s lips, and the young woman,
thinking that someone might be in need of assistance, hastened down the
hill, and saw, some two hundred yards away, a woman on horseback
striking with her crop a small boy in whom Honorine instantly recognized
the one who had stolen her cherries.
The appearance of a lady on the scene did not calm Thélénie’s wrath; she
continued to belabor the lost child, exclaiming: “Ah! you won’t stand
aside when I tell you to look out, won’t you? You make signs to show
that you aren’t afraid of me, and you make faces at me! You little
blackguard, I’ll teach you to know me and respect me!”
When he caught sight of Madame Dalmont, little Emile ran to her for
protection, still making a great outcry, in which there was at least as
much anger as pain.
The amazon would have ridden after him, but Honorine barred her way.
“Mon Dieu!” she said, “what has this child done to you, madame, that you
should punish him so severely?”
Thélénie eyed Honorine insolently as she retorted:
“What has he done to me? what business is it of yours? If I horsewhip
him, it’s because I choose to do it, and because he deserves it. What
are you meddling for?”
“Meddling--when I defend a child who is being beaten! Evidently, madame,
you would see a child overwhelmed with blows without thinking of
defending him!”
“What does this mean? that madame is pleased to give me a lesson,
perhaps?”
“I might well give you a lesson in politeness, I fancy; for you adopt a
tone which is very little in harmony with your costume.”
Thélénie bit her lips angrily; then she cried abruptly:
“Ah! you are Madame Dalmont, no doubt?”
“I am Madame Dalmont.”
“I might have guessed as much. Ha! ha! ha! I have frequently heard of
madame and her little friend, Mademoiselle Agathe! Ha! ha! You ladies
are very well known in Chelles.”
“I think not, madame, as we see very few people.”
“But you are much talked about all the same!”
“It is quite possible, madame; there are people whose sole occupation is
gossip, slander, calumny. But what comes from the mouths of those people
is not worth thinking about, really!”
“Do you mean that for me, madame?”
“How could I mean it for you? I do not know you!”
“I am Madame de Belleville, and I am not in the habit of putting up with
an insult from anybody, no matter who it may be.”
“And I am Madame Dalmont, and I am not in the habit of fighting because
I am not a man.”
Thélénie was irritated beyond measure by the young widow’s imperturbable
calmness.
But while this dialogue was taking place between the two ladies, little
Emile, thirsting for revenge for the blows he had received, picked up a
large lump of earth and threw it with all his strength at the person who
had beaten him. The clod did not reach her, but it struck one of the
ears of her horse, and as it broke, spattered and soiled the beautiful
blue skirt.
The horse, not expecting the assault, made a leap side-wise which might
well have unseated his rider; but Thélénie, unshaken in her saddle,
simply cried out in rage:
“Ah! you little villain!” she shrieked; “this time you shall feel my
crop, and you’ll keep the marks of it!”
The lost child hid behind Honorine; but that obstacle did not seem to
deter Thélénie.
“Stand aside, madame,” she cried; “move from in front of that rascal, or
I won’t be answerable for my horse.”
“For heaven’s sake, madame, forgive the child!”
“No! no! and if you don’t move--So much the worse for you, if you get a
taste of the crop too!”
With that the amazon urged her horse upon Honorine and the little boy;
but, like the great majority of those noble-hearted creatures, the horse
hesitated, stopped and tried to make a détour in order to avoid running
down a woman and a child. The amazon persisted in her attempts to ride
him upon them, when suddenly an unexpected defender changed the whole
aspect of affairs. Ami rushed down the hill, and without pause or
hesitation jumped at the rider, barking in a tone which indicated that
he was not in a good humor.
At sight of that magnificent beast, who was doing his utmost to jump
upon her, Thélénie, forced to defend herself, tried to strike Ami with
her crop. But he cleverly avoided the blows, springing from side to
side, but biting the horse at the same time.
“Madame! madame! call off your dog!” shouted the amazon; “he is biting
my horse! you will be responsible for what may happen!”
“The dog is not mine, madame; but I am thankful for his arrival at this
moment, for it has prevented you from doing a cowardly thing.”
“Oh! you haven’t heard the last of this, madame! The cursed dog! And I
shall find this little wretch again, too. We shall see! we shall see! I
will find that dog’s master!”
But harassed by Ami, who tried to bite her legs, and obliged to attend
to her horse, whom the constant attacks of the dog were driving to
frenzy, Thélénie had no choice but to abandon the field of battle. She
plunged her spurs into the beast’s sides, and gave him the rein; he
instantly galloped away at the top of his speed, and horse and rider
soon disappeared altogether.
Ami started to pursue them, but Honorine called him back so vehemently
that he returned to her side at last, still excited by the battle he had
fought.
The young woman looked about in every direction, but to no purpose; the
dog’s master did not appear. She was about to return to the house, when
she noticed that little Emile was still by her side.
“Why did you throw a stone at that horse just now?” she asked.
“It wasn’t a stone, it was a lump of dirt.”
“No matter; you hoped to hit that lady, I suppose?”
“Yes, I aimed it at her.”
“That was a very naughty thing for you to do. Just think of all that
might have happened: the lady galloped her horse at you----”
“And at you too.”
“And if it had not been for this good dog that arrived just in time, you
might be badly hurt.”
“And you too.”
“None of those things would have happened if you had not thrown that
lump of dirt.”
“What made that dragoon strike me with her whip?”
“Why didn’t you stand aside to let her pass?”
“She could pass well enough; there was plenty of room. Does she need the
whole road for her and her horse?”
“My child, do you mean always to be naughty? You have already forgotten
what I told you the other day; make people love you instead of making
them fear you, and you will be much happier.”
The boy looked at the ground and muttered in a low voice:
“No one wants to love me!”
Honorine took a small coin from her purse and gave it to Emile.
“See, I will give you this,” she said, “but only on condition that you
won’t throw any more stones or dirt at anybody. If I learn that you have
done it again, I will never give you anything more.”
“Not cherries?”
“Neither cherries nor anything else; now go.”
Ami listened to this conversation, seated on his haunches, with the
gravity of an examining magistrate. Then he followed Honorine to the
garden gate, where she turned and said to him:
“Are you coming in with me, good dog? No; you won’t. Your master isn’t
with you, so you came all by yourself to pay me a visit; that was very
nice of you. When you choose to come again, just scratch at this gate,
and you will always be welcome.”
Ami, who seemed to understand her words perfectly, yelped once or twice,
then bounded away toward the Tower, barking loudly and joyously.
XII
THE BARON VON SCHTAPELMERG
Thélénie galloped to her house, without once drawing rein. As she rode
into the courtyard, she almost over-turned her husband, who was just
starting out for a walk, and had barely time to jump into the stable.
Then she dropped the reins, jumped to the ground, tossed her crop in the
face of the servant who stepped forward, and, still in a rage at having
been forced to retreat, cried:
“Where is monsieur? where is he hiding? tell him to come to me
instantly.”
Chamoureau made bold to put his head out of the stable.
“Here I am, my love,” he said; “I am here. Your infernal horse came near
upsetting me! Is it possible you didn’t see that? Your horses are too
restive, they’ll play you some bad trick one of these days. You look
annoyed; have you had a fall?”
“Hold your tongue, monsieur! It’s natural for you to fall; you know
nothing about bodily exercise!”
“What’s that? I know nothing about bodily exercise! Why, it seems to me
that there are some kinds in which I----”
“I am furious, monsieur; I am exasperated!”
“The deuce!”
“Yes; for I have been insulted, outraged, laughed at! But it shall not
pass off so! I must have reparation; and I look to you for that!”
Chamoureau, scenting a duel in what his wife had said, and feeling no
vocation for that sort of amusement, was strongly tempted to return to
the stable. He walked about the courtyard, muttering:
“I had something in hand; what in the devil did I have in hand?”
“Be kind enough to listen to me, monsieur. I tell you that your wife has
been insulted!”
“Insulted! you! Madame de Belleville! That strikes me as most
extraordinary, for everybody in the neighborhood bows to the ground
before us. They don’t talk about anything else but the dinner we gave
them. They think that you ride a horse like Madame Saqui, like the late
Franconi, I should say; they shout ‘hurrah!’ when you pass, and they are
constantly throwing bouquets to us.”
“That’s just the reason, monsieur, why it’s an outrage that a woman, a
child and a dog should have formed a league against me!”
“What! it was a dog, and a woman, and a child, who had the audacity to
insult you?” cried Chamoureau, recovering all his courage when he found
that there was no man concerned in the affair. “_Fichtre_! bless my
soul! _vive Dieu_! where are the rascals, pray, that I may punish them!
I will whip the woman, I mean the child--no, I mean the dog; in fact, I
will castigate all three of them.”
“When it comes to administering punishment, I shall not need you,
monsieur; what I want of you is that you should make inquiries and find
out, first, whom the child belongs to--a little boy of seven or eight, I
should think, who looks like a little villain, and who threw stones at
my horse.”
“Ah! I’ll chastise that little scamp. What! he dared! Really, there
aren’t any children nowadays!”
“He was dressed in a short brown jacket, worn out at the elbows, and
torn everywhere, dirty green breeches covered with patches, no
stockings, shoes full of holes, and nothing on his head except a forest
of black hair which gives him the look of an imp.”
“Is the little fellow a beggar?”
“He looks like it, but I don’t say that he begged of me. You are to find
out whom he belongs to--what his parents do; then I will take it on
myself to go to speak to them.”
“Very good; I understand perfectly. You don’t want me to whip the
child?”
“Do nothing more than I tell you. Then there’s a dog, a monstrous dog.”
“Describe him, if you please.”
“Mon Dieu! monsieur, I can’t do it very well. I was on horseback and the
dog tried to jump at me; I had to keep twisting and turning to avoid
him. I think he was of the bull-dog breed; he was very large, and seemed
very savage.”
“Peste! what a savage beast! Wasn’t he muzzled?”
“Of course not, as he bit my horse.”
“He is unlawfully at large; I will complain to the authorities and have
him impounded.”
“Just find out whom he belongs to; I will attend to the rest.”
“That may be rather difficult; didn’t you notice any particular marks?”
“Oh! how you irritate me, monsieur!”
“I mean, didn’t he have any blanket on him? They put blankets on some
dogs, just as they do on horses.”
“No, monsieur, he had nothing on him; he’s white with black spots. I
presume that he belongs to the little boy’s parents, as he instantly
undertook to defend him.”
“True; your conjecture is very just; if he belongs to the boy’s parents,
the boy is his little master, and it was as such that he defended
him.--Now let us come to the woman: some wretched peasant, I suppose?”
“No, monsieur, a lady; but I know who she is!”
“Ah! you know her, do you?”
“I don’t know her, but I divined who she was: that Madame Dalmont, for
whom you bought a miserable shanty down here!”
“Indeed! Madame Dalmont, the protectress of young Agathe, with whom our
friend Edmond Didier is in love.”
“Exactly. Did you hear how they talked about those two women at our
party?”
“I heard--that is to say, no, I didn’t hear. What did they say about
those two ladies?”
“That they were creatures unfit to be received in society; that they led
a scandalous life here, receiving no one but men, and, it is believed,
lodging them at night;--do you understand?”
“What! they let lodgings?--furnished?”
Thélénie shrugged her shoulders impatiently and left her husband,
saying:
“Don’t forget what I have told you to do, monsieur!”
Chamoureau left the house by the fine avenue of lindens of which he was
so proud. Reflecting on the instructions his wife had given him, he said
to himself:
“I shall find the child; that ought not to be difficult. But as for the
dog--it seems that he’s very savage; I’ll inquire about him, but I won’t
try to come to close quarters with him. What’s the use; he’ll never
admit his culpability toward my wife.”
Communing thus with himself, the new landed proprietor made slow
progress, because he halted at every tree on the avenue, examined it and
walked around it admiringly, murmuring:
“This fellow must be at least fifty years old--what do I say? eighty
years! perhaps more! How in the devil can one tell the age of a tree?
That’s something the geologists have never thought of--the _arborists_,
I should say, or, better still, the wood-cutters. And yet it’s a very
important matter. When a man can say: ‘I have on my estate several
centuries of trees,’ that should add immensely to its value. Let us see,
let us see; that is something worth finding out--how to tell the age of
a tree! Suppose I should find it out! I should think that I might then
offer myself as a candidate for the Academy; I should be justified!”
Engrossed by his study of the trees, Chamoureau had not noticed a man
who had entered his avenue and was walking toward him, looking to right
and left, like one who is determined to observe everything.
This individual, whose dress was modest and suggested poverty rather
than elegance, had nevertheless an arrogant manner and a self-assured
bearing; his dirty round hat was perched on the right side of his head
in true swaggering style, and the thick stick which he held in his hand
was made to perform evolutions and revolutions which might have led one
to think that he had been a drum-major. Adding to all this the face of a
bird of prey, you will at once recognize Croque, Thélénie’s brother,
less dilapidated than at the time of his visit to his sister some months
before, but not apparently in the most prosperous circumstances.
Croque approached Chamoureau, who, on raising his eyes, was vastly
surprised to see within a few feet of him that gallows-bird, who tried
to salute him gracefully, as he said:
“A thousand pardons, monsieur; but am I not on the estate of Monsieur
and Madame de Belleville?”
“You are indeed, monsieur, for this avenue, with these superb lindens,
also belongs to us; it forms a part of the domain which my wife and I
recently purchased.”
“Ah! monsieur, from what I hear, it must be to Monsieur de Belleville
himself, in his own person, that I have the great honor of presenting at
this moment my most sincere respects and compliments.”
Chamoureau, highly flattered by the respectful tone in which the
stranger addressed him, began to think that he was not so ugly after
all; and, striking an attitude as if he were on a pedestal, he bowed and
replied:
“Yes, monsieur, I am Cha--I am Monsieur de Belleville.”
“Who married Madame Sainte-Suzanne--a charming woman, of the utmost
refinement, distinguished to her finger-tips, and with a most superior
mind.”
“Well, well!” thought Chamoureau, “he speaks well of my wife! He’s the
first one to do that!”
“However, monsieur,” continued Croque, “I do not need to praise your
excellent wife to you; for since you have taken her for your cherished
companion in life, you must have learned to appreciate her numerous good
qualities and her admirable perfections.”
“Certainly, monsieur, I am acquainted with my wife’s perfections; she
has superb eyes, jet-black hair------”
“Oh! monsieur, physically she is incomparably beautiful, beyond doubt,
but the physique is nothing compared with the heart, the mind and the
virtues! There are many beautiful women in the world, but such virtues
as those of your good wife are less common--if I dared, I would say very
rare!”
“Thélénie must have rendered this man some great service!” thought
Chamoureau; “he discovers too many virtues in her; I am not acquainted
with so many as that.--May I know with whom I have the honor of
talking?” he said, turning to Croque.
Croque drew himself up, twirled his cane so rapidly that Chamoureau for
a moment feared for his nose, and replied:
“I am the Baron von Schtapelmerg. I imagine that that name is not
unknown to you, and that your wife must often have spoken to you of me?”
“Baron von--I beg your pardon?”
“Schtapelmerg.”
“Oh, yes! Schtapel--Yes, I have it.”
“You know me, do you not?”
“Faith! no; this is the first time I ever heard your name; otherwise I
should have remembered it, as it’s rather uncommon!”
“You surprise me very much. What! Madame Sainte-Suzanne--I beg your
pardon; I always think of her by that name.”
“There’s no harm done.”
“Has she forgotten her old friend, her devoted Schtapelmerg?”
“Were you a friend of hers?”
“Ah! monsieur!--a friend--in life and death! Twenty times I have fought
for that charming woman!”
“You have fought for her?”
“I did little else at one time, monsieur; if anyone looked at her too
closely, if anyone trod on her foot or tore her dress--instantly my
sword was unsheathed. Ah! I am not given to jesting! I am very sensitive
on the point of honor.--One! two! parry that thrust! pif! spitted!”
“Sapristi!” muttered Chamoureau, while Croque went through the motions
of spitting a linden. “Here’s a man that I’ll never quarrel with! But he
seems to be a friend to be relied on.”
“Lately, monsieur, after travelling in Bavaria, my native land, and
visiting some of my numerous domains----”
As he said this, Croque pushed back under his coat sleeve a bit of
ragged shirt which persisted in showing itself.
“I was saying that, on returning from one of my principalities, my first
thought, on reaching Paris, was to call upon my noble and respected
friend, Madame Sainte-Suzanne. There I learned that that most gracious
woman had recently espoused a young, noble and fashionable gentleman,
blessed with an immense fortune and with amiable qualities in
proportion; I was told your name--Monsieur de Belleville!”
Chamoureau, who had appeared at first somewhat surprised to hear this
individual in threadbare coat and rusty tile speak of his domains,
forgot that seedy costume as soon as the words gentleman, fashionable,
and amiable fell upon his ear. He was radiant, his face fairly beamed,
and he extended his hand to the pretended baron, exclaiming:
“Monsieur de Schtapel--what’s your name----”
“Merg.”
“Yes, that’s it; I was afraid of pronouncing it wrong. My dear baron, as
you are my wife’s friend, I venture to hope that you will consent to be
mine also from this moment. It will be an honor and--the keenest
satisfaction to me to offer you my friendship. Shake hands!”
“Ah! _tarteiff_! you are what I call a man! I judged you at the first
glance; I said to myself: ‘Ten thousand cabbages! there’s a man who is
worthy to be hitched up with Madame Sainte-Suzanne; they were born for
each other!’--And you offer me your friendship! _Sapreman_! here’s my
hand. Bah! these damned musketeer sleeves are intolerable; they get torn
and soiled in an hour; no matter--here’s my hand. Now, if you have an
enemy, if anyone has the misfortune to look askance at you--why, it no
longer concerns you--it’s my affair--mine!”
“Oh! really, baron, I should not want you to go so far as that.”
“Nonsense! I tell you that it no longer concerns you; that’s the way I
deal with my real friends! But I beg your pardon--you must realize my
impatience; I would be glad to present my respects to Madame de
Belleville.”
“That is quite natural; we will go to her. She has just come in from her
ride, which she takes every morning. Do you know how well she rides?”
“Do I know? why, it was I who held her stirrup at the riding-school
of--at the circus, in fact!”
“I shall have the pleasure of taking you to my wife.”
“Bless my soul! don’t put yourself out. You were going somewhere, and
you mustn’t change your plans on my account. Madame is at the château;
that’s enough for me; I will go alone.”
“No indeed! I shall be very glad to witness the joy which my wife cannot
fail to feel when she sees you.--Come, baron, come.”
Croque would have preferred that Monsieur de Belleville should not be
present at his first interview with his sister, but it was impossible to
object. Moreover, after the conversation he had just had with his
brother-in-law, he was justified in concluding that it was very easy to
make him believe whatever one chose.
Thélénie had just changed her dress and was half reclining on a couch,
when her husband entered her apartment, exclaiming from the outer room:
“My dear love, I am bringing someone whom you will be delighted to see,
a visitor whom you did not expect, but who will give you great
pleasure.”
Thélénie did not deign to turn her face toward the door, but contented
herself with asking:
“Who is it? what’s the matter? whom have you brought?”
“Monsieur de Schtapelmerg.”
“Who’s he? Schtapelmerg! Where does he come from? I don’t know any such
person.”
“She has forgotten your name, baron.”
“When madame hears my voice, I am quite sure that she will recognize me
at once and will not ask again who I am.”
There was a shrill, strident tone in Croque’s voice which, in truth,
made it easy to recognize; so that, as soon as he began to speak,
Thélénie faced about abruptly, and, after examining him, exclaimed:
“What! is it you?”
“Yes, dear and noble lady; it is I, the Baron von Schtapelmerg, your old
friend, who was always the most sincere and devoted of your servants. I
have just had the honor of informing your highly honored husband,
Monsieur de Belleville, of that fact, madame, having had the pleasure of
meeting him on my way here; and I already entertain for him the most
sincere esteem, having, at the first glance, seen that he is endowed
with capacities of all sorts.”
Croque finished his harangue by bowing low to Monsieur and Madame de
Belleville.
Thélénie had much difficulty in refraining from laughing in the faces of
her husband and the pretended baron, especially when she saw Chamoureau
press Croque’s hand warmly, saying: