whom we frequently meet in society.--Go on, Silvestre de Belleville.”
“The Baronne de Mortagne paid the nurse for five months in advance, also
the cost of her journey, and ordered her to go straight back to
Morfontaine with little Emile--I forgot to tell you that the child’s
name was Emile. She told Jacqueline not to bring him to Paris, adding
that she would go to see him when she had time. The nurse, however, took
pains to ask the lady for her address; as she didn’t know Paris at all,
she had no idea where she had been taken. They gave her a written
address, packed her into the stage, and sent her back to Morfontaine
with her foster-child, delighted with her day’s work!
“But two months passed and three months, and Jacqueline did not hear a
word from little Emile’s mother. She said to herself, that when the five
months had passed, the lady would undoubtedly come to see her son and
bring her more money. But no! the five months passed, and no one came.
Meanwhile the poor nurse had become a widow and had lost her own child.
As she needed money, she decided to go to Paris. She got somebody to
read to her the address the baroness had given her--I forgot to tell you
that Jacqueline didn’t know how to read; that is an unimportant detail.
What was written on the paper was: ‘La Baronne de Mortagne, at her hôtel
on Rue de Grenelle, Faubourg Saint-Germain.’--On her arrival in Paris,
Jacqueline inquired the way to Rue de Grenelle. I forgot to tell you
that she didn’t know Paris.”
“Yes! yes! you did tell us; go on, Silvestre.”
“Well! arrived in Paris, and on Rue de Grenelle, the nurse couldn’t find
the house from which she had taken her nursling. She inquired, she asked
on both sides of the street for Madame la Baronne de Mortagne; no one
knew that lady--it was a false address!”
“And a false baroness; we guessed that at the very beginning of your
story.”
“Finding that all her inquiries were useless, Jacqueline returned to
Morfontaine with the child; she was entitled to turn him over to the
magistrate and not keep him any longer, but, poor as she was, the good
woman would not abandon her foster-child.”
“Ah! that was very well done!”
“There was a nurse with more heart than a mother!”
“But how does it happen,” asked Thélénie in a hesitating tone, “that
this nurse who lived at Morfontaine is now at Chelles?”
“Because she has a sister who lives here, the widow Tourniquoi. This
sister, being in comfortable circumstances, learned that Jacqueline was
almost destitute since her husband’s death, so she proposed to her to
come here to live with her. Jacqueline asked nothing better; she came
with the little boy, who unfortunately has grown up to be a very tough
subject!”
“He probably takes after his mother,” said Freluchon.
“I learned all these details by talking with Jacqueline, when I went
there to complain of the boy. The poor woman still loves him, she begged
me with tears in her eyes to forgive him, and she said:
“‘Oh! if you knew how lovely his mother was, monsieur! I never saw her
but once, and that was eight years ago, but if I should see her I should
know her in a minute, her beauty made such an impression on me!’”
Thélénie could not control a nervous tremor; but she struggled to
overcome it, saying:
“It seems to me that we have had quite enough of this nurse.”
“I beg pardon,” said Freluchon; “I propose that, before we leave the
subject, we take up a collection for this excellent woman, who, although
poor, would not abandon the child that was placed in her care.”
“Yes! yes! a collection for the nurse!”
“An excellent idea!”
“Do you agree with me, Baron Schtapelmerg?”
“Count me in; count me generous! Here’s the nurse’s health!”
“It isn’t a question of drinking only; everybody’s feeling in his
pocket, you see.”
“Ah! that’s so. Pardieu! I’ll give ten sous.”
“That isn’t much for a baron! but perhaps it’s enough for you. I will
collect the offerings in this preserve dish.”
“Faith! the money can go to its address at once,” said Chamoureau; “for,
as I wanted little Emile to make a public apology to my wife, I told
Jacqueline to bring him to us while we were at dinner.”
Thélénie glared at her husband with a savage gleam in her eyes.
“What, monsieur? what did you say? this nurse----”
“Is coming here, my dear love, with the little vagabond, to apologize to
you. It’s a little surprise I arranged for you. Then we will give the
good woman the money we have collected for her. I can see her joy now;
it will make a charming picture!”
“Why, monsieur, you have no common sense! What need have we of that
peasant woman’s presence, to bore us with her chatter?”
At that moment a servant came forward and said:
“There’s a country woman outside with a little boy; she wishes to pay
her respects to madame.”
Thélénie rose abruptly.
“This is very strange!” she said; “I am terribly dizzy; I do not feel at
all well. Receive this woman, monsieur, and send her away. Come with me,
Héloïse. Pray don’t be alarmed, my friends, it will not be anything
serious.”
And Thélénie took her friend’s arm and left the tent with a rapidity
most surprising in a person who feels indisposed.
But the guests did not notice this circumstance; they were awaiting with
interest the nurse and the little boy, who soon presented themselves,
the former with repeated curtsies, the latter staring at the whole
company with an impertinent expression.
“That little fellow has very fine eyes!” said Freluchon; “they are
almost as large as Madame de Belleville’s. Don’t you think so, Baron von
Schtapelmerg?”
The baron, who was beginning to be a little tipsy, replied:
“My sister has the finest eyes in Paris!”
“Your sister! who’s your sister?”
Croque saw that he had made a false step.
“Yes, I’ve got a sister,” he rejoined, “who has a pair of eyes like
portes cochères.”
And he poured out a glass of water and swallowed it at a draught,
muttering:
“I’ve had enough wine for to-day; I must look out for myself.”
Meanwhile Chamoureau, thinking that the moment had come to put in a
little _speech_, took the preserve dish which contained the proceeds of
the collection, and said to the peasant:
“My good woman, it is with renewed pleasure--no; I noticed long
ago--wait; no, never mind that.--You will not see Madame de Belleville,
for, notwithstanding her earnest desire to know you, a sudden
indisposition, which I attribute to--what on earth can have made my wife
ill? perhaps it was the melon; and yet it was delicious; but there is
much difference in digestions--What were we saying?--Ah! there’s the
little rascal who dared to throw stones at my wife. He looks promising.
I say, my buck--my lost child!--he’s the lost child, isn’t he?”
“Alas! yes, monsieur.”
“Well, little gallows-bird [_petit pendu_]--lost child [_petit perdu_],
I mean,--though, after all, if he keeps on, I shouldn’t be surprised if
he got hanged some day!”
“Oh, monsieur! on my word----”
“Do not be alarmed, Widow Jacqueline Treillard, that is simply a
supposition.--Well, you little rascal, will you ever throw stones at my
wife again?”
“You’re the one I’ll throw ‘em at, to teach you to say I’m going to be
hung!” retorted the boy, glaring angrily at Chamoureau, who was
completely disconcerted, for he did not expect that retort.
Freluchon, observing the widow’s distress, rose hastily, took the
preserve dish from Chamoureau’s hands, and poured the contents into
Jacqueline’s apron.
“There, my good woman,” he said, “it was my idea to take up this
collection for your benefit; so it is my place to hand you the
proceeds, especially as Monsieur de Belleville keeps you waiting too
long. Now, go away with your foster-child; for he might say things which
would put him out of favor in this house.”
The peasant opened her eyes at sight of the money in her apron; she
tried to express her thanks, but Chamoureau motioned to the servants to
take her away, and in a moment Jacqueline and the boy disappeared.
As Madame de Belleville did not return, they soon left the table, to
take coffee in the salons.
“I am greatly distressed,” said Chamoureau, “that my wife should have
been taken ill, for she has lost the pleasure of seeing the nurse, and
hearing the little boy.”
“Especially,” said Freluchon, “as she seemed very anxious to see them,
and as the little boy said things that were very pleasant to hear.”
At last Thélénie reappeared in the salons. She had changed her dress,
which fact satisfactorily accounted for her long absence. Admiring
exclamations greeted her striking beauty and her new costume.
“Evidently,” cried Monsieur Luminot, “Madame de Belleville intends to
turn all our heads!”
This compliment was warmly applauded; there was a concert of praise
which became almost frenzied; it was easy to see that they had all dined
sumptuously.
Thélénie, while smiling affably in response to the compliments with
which she was bombarded, found a way to approach Croque and whisper to
him:
“You must not go away to-night until I have spoken to you; don’t forget;
it is very important!”
Ere long a rocket gave the signal for the fireworks, which were
displayed in front of the house. Chamoureau had insisted on having his
own monogram and his wife’s on a transparency. But the pyrotechnist,
having misunderstood his instructions, had supplied an E instead of a C;
so that the transparency presented the combination E B T.
It was applauded none the less heartily. Thélénie alone shrugged her
shoulders, as she said to her husband:
“Let’s hope, monsieur, this will be your last surprise!”
Many people came for the ball only; among them was Edmond, who entered
the gorgeous salons of the villa about eleven o’clock.
Chamoureau ran to meet him and grasped his hand.
“My dear Monsieur Edmond Didier,” he said, “how delighted I am to have
you as my guest.”
“My congratulations, Chamoureau--I beg pardon! Monsieur de Belleville;
your house is magnificent!”
“Isn’t it? It is truly regal. My wife will be very glad to see you;
shall I present you to her?”
“Oh! it’s not worth while. I have the honor of her acquaintance, you
know.”
“Yes, to be sure! I had quite forgotten that you used to--know her! But
excuse me; they are going to dance, and my wife has given me a list of
seventeen people that I must dance with.”
“Go; don’t stand on ceremony.”
Thélénie caught sight of Edmond, and a gleam of satisfaction lighted up
her face, which had been very dark ever since she had learned that
Jacqueline Treillard was at Chelles. She went forward at once to meet
the young man, thanked him for coming to her party and gave him a most
cordial welcome. Then she pointed to the card tables, saying:
“If you don’t wish to dance, there is a way of passing the time; do
whatever you choose.”
Edmond sought out Freluchon and asked in a low tone:
“How has the affair gone off?”
“My dear fellow, first of all I must do justice to the dinner; it was
magnificent, nothing was lacking. Chamoureau was adorably idiotic and
told us about a scientific discovery that was enough to make one burst
with laughter. But after that there was a very peculiar story of a
nurse. I have strange suspicions; I’ll tell you about it later. Look
you, if you take my advice, you won’t stay here. Let’s go right away,
I’ll go with you.”
“Why so, pray?”
“I have an idea that Thélénie is concocting some villainy against you; I
have surprised a number of hints and treacherous smiles. That woman has
never forgiven you for leaving her first!”
“Nonsense! you are mad! Thélénie has a lot of money, and she thinks of
nothing but making a show with it; she doesn’t give me a thought. What
should I look like--to come here and run right away again? I mean to
play cards. Gad! if I could only win!”
“Then you won’t go away?”
“No, certainly not.”
“In that case, do at least be on your guard.”
“Really, Freluchon, I have never seen you as you are to-night.”
“Distrust especially that villainous looking fellow who is watching the
dancing, there at the left; he’s a German baron, who is no more a German
than he is a baron, and whom I suspect of being----”
“Well, what?”
“Thélénie’s brother!”
“What an idea! I never heard of her having a brother.”
“An additional reason that! it was probably because he was not a subject
that she deemed good enough to put on exhibition.”
“What kind of wine have you been drinking, to have such gloomy ideas?”
“Oh! I haven’t drunk too much; I have been very careful. It isn’t
possible that that woman invited us for our good looks; let’s go away.”
“Freluchon, if I am really in any danger here, go away if you choose; I
am going to stay.”
“Enough! let’s say no more about it. I am going to dance a polka.”
The ball-room and card-rooms were soon full of animation. The servants
went constantly to and fro with salvers laden with punch, hot or cold.
They also passed madeira, champagne and claret; it seemed that the
master, or rather the mistress of the house had no other object than to
make the guests tipsy.
Thanks to this species of refreshment, the hilarity soon became
uproarious, the dances assumed a decidedly Spanish character, and the
ladies plunged into them with an _abandon_ that was at times decidedly
eccentric.
Monsieur Droguet, who insisted on taking part in all the dances, even
those that he did not know, had already been thrown to the floor three
times; which did not deter him from beginning again as soon as he was on
his feet.
Madame Droguet waltzed with the aplomb of a tower; she did not fall, but
woe to those who collided with her! She and Monsieur Luminot, her
partner, bumped into and overthrew everyone who came in their path. The
ex-dealer in wines had not allowed a salver of punch or champagne to
pass him by without saying a word to it. The result was that he was
purple; his eyes were starting from his head, and he seemed inclined to
defy the whole world.
Edmond, after playing a few rubbers of whist, had taken his place at a
lansquenet table, where he was not lucky. Croque did not lose sight of
him, and when he left the lansquenet table, he accosted him, saying:
“I don’t care for that game; you lose your money at it without a chance
to defend yourself, without having even the pleasure of playing. I
prefer écarté, that’s a game full of fine points. Does monsieur play
it?”
“To be sure.”
“Would you like to play a few games? here’s an unoccupied table.”
“I should be glad to; let us see if I shall be more fortunate at this
game than the others.”
“You probably will, monsieur, for I lose at it all the time, which does
not prevent my being very fond of it; but we always become attached to
ingrates!”
Edmond seated himself at a card-table opposite Croque, who continued:
“I like to play rather high.”
“So do I.”
“Then we have the same tastes. Twenty francs--does that frighten you?
these little gold pieces are so convenient!”
“Twenty francs it is.”
The game began, and although the _soi-disant_ baron declared that he
always lost at it, he won the first game and the next and all the rest,
and the yellow boys flowed in his direction.
Edmond had lost more than a hundred francs; but he tried to recoup by
increasing his stake, which suited his opponent perfectly.
“Monsieur,” he replied to every such suggestion, “I am a bold player! I
never refuse a man his revenge, and I cover whatever stake is proposed.”
Thélénie passed through the card-room several times to see what was
going on; finally she came again, but with several ladies. She had
Madame Droguet on her arm; Mesdames Remplumé and Jarnouillard, with
others, came behind. They all seated themselves near the table at which
Croque and Edmond were playing écarté.
“I am not sorry to rest a little,” said the corpulent Droguet, sinking
on a couch; “we danced that whole waltz without stopping, didn’t we,
Beau Luminot?”
Beau Luminot, puffing noisily, had taken his stand behind the ladies. He
wiped the perspiration from his forehead as he replied:
“I’m as wet as a dish-rag; but we waltzed like Flora and Zephyr.”
“Your husband is on edge, Madame de Belleville; he hasn’t missed a dance
yet.”
“He is simply doing his duty; a host should set the example; he has got
to exhaust his list.”
“He may well be exhausted himself first. Are you ladies going to play
cards?”
“Perhaps, neighbor, perhaps; we want to vary our pleasures.”
“I’ll bet two sous, if anybody will cover them.”
“Oh! Monsieur Luminot! do you dare to mention two sous? Don’t you see
that these gentlemen are playing for gold?”
“Gold! real gold?”
“As real as can be!” replied Croque; “and if you want to bet a few
napoleons on my opponent, I’ll take all bets.”
“I! I think not! I’ll bet two sous and no more!”
“Well, mesdames, have you enjoyed yourselves?” inquired Thélénie.
“Oh! your party is simply enchanting, Madame de Belleville; it is
magnificent!”
“Admirable!”
“What a charming company you have brought together!”
“I tried to have the best people in the neighborhood.”
“And you have succeeded.”
“I did think for a moment of inviting those two ladies who bought
Monsieur Courtivaux’s house, but----”
“Fie! fie! my dear love! What were you thinking of? why those women are
not received anywhere!”
“But I thought----”
“La Dalmont and Demoiselle Agathe; does anybody know who they are?”
The names of Madame Dalmont and Agathe reached Edmond’s ears, and he
listened, continuing his game.
“On the contrary,” cried Madame Remplumé, “we know much too well who
they are!”
“Yes, you are right; we know some fine things about those flaunting
hussies.”
“Of whom are you speaking, madame?” said Edmond, turning abruptly toward
Madame Droguet.
“Of whom am I speaking, monsieur!” rejoined the giantess, slightly taken
aback by this sudden question. “Why, in the first place, it seems to me
that I am not accountable to you.”
“Madame was speaking of the persons with whom you pass your evenings,”
observed Thélénie with a sneering smile.
“And madame, in speaking of those ladies, presumed to make use of
expressions which I cannot and will not endure.”
“I have the vole and the king,” said Croque, marking three points.
“What does that mean, monsieur?” demanded the ex-vivandière, rolling her
eyes furiously. “You don’t wish me to say what everyone in this
neighborhood thinks about those ladies; why should I hesitate, I pray to
know?”
“What do people in the neighborhood say of those ladies?”
“I mark the king.”
“They say, monsieur, that they are--not of much account; and no one will
receive them!”
“Those who say that, madame, do so either from evil-mindedness or from
stupidity; and none but the most despicable people can possibly make
such remarks!”
“Despicable! Monsieur, it seems to me that you insult me!”
“It is you, madame, who insult two persons who deserve all your
respect.”
“I have won!”
“My respect! Ha! ha! that is too much! Luminot, do you hear what
monsieur says?”
“What is it? what’s the matter? what are you talking about?”
“The two women who live in the Courtivaux house.”
“Ah! hussies! wantons!”
Edmond sprang to his feet and grasped Luminot’s arm, crying:
“Monsieur, admit that you have lied, that your words are false; take
them back at once, or I won’t answer for my wrath!”
The Droguets, Remplumés and Jarnouillards shrieked in unison:
“He has told the truth; he won’t say anything different; he has simply
expressed our opinion.”
“Take it back, monsieur, take it back instantly!”
“No, I won’t take it back,” said the former wine merchant, whose brain
was excited by all he had drunk, and who was inflamed by the harpies who
surrounded him. “On the contrary, I repeat it: those two women are----”
A violent blow on the cheek prevented him from finishing his sentence.
Bewildered a moment by the blow he had received, Luminot stared vacantly
about; but when he saw Edmond still glaring at him with a threatening
expression, the stout man prepared to rush at him.
All the ladies present, instead of trying to hold him back, were rather
inclined to lend him their assistance; but at that moment Freluchon
appeared on the scene, attracted by the noise; he forced his way through
the crowd to Luminot’s side, and just as he extended his arm to strike
Edmond, the diminutive fellow’s muscular arms took him by the waist,
lifted him like a feather and tossed him upon whoever happened to be
behind him. The wine merchant fell upon Monsieur Droguet, whom he
flattened out beneath him.
Thereupon lamentable cries arose.
“Oh! mon Dieu! they have crushed my husband!” shrieked Madame Droguet.
“This is the scene which I expected,” said Freluchon, “and which Madame
Chamoureau had carefully arranged! Now, Edmond, I trust that you will
consent to go away with me.--Chamoureau, my boy, your little fête was
delightful; and your wife, Madame Chamoureau, whose name is no more De
Belleville than mine is Abd-el-Kader, arranged some very charming
surprises for us.”
“Monsieur,” said Edmond, walking up to Luminot, who had struggled to his
feet, but was very sore about the loins, “men of breeding do not settle
their quarrels like street porters. I am ready to give you satisfaction.
I live in this village, as you are well aware; to-morrow I shall expect
your seconds.--Let us be off, Freluchon.”
“Off we go, my dear fellow.--I present my respects to Monsieur and
Madame Chamoureau.--Ah! and the German baron who doesn’t know German; I
was forgetting him. Good-night, my dear Schtapelmerg! a thousand
sauerkrauts in my name to your acquaintances.”
“Don’t you mean to chastise such insolence?” murmured Thélénie, touching
Croque’s arm. But he replied simply:
“Not such an ass! He lifted that enormous man as if he was a feather!
Peste! he’s too strong!”
XXI
CONSPIRACY
The scene that had taken place in the card-room brought Thélénie’s fête
to an end. Monsieur Droguet’s nose was crushed and three of his teeth
were broken; and his wife persistently exclaimed:
“They were the last he had!”
Chamoureau, who had seen only the end of the episode, and who was
excessively annoyed to be called by his true name before his guests, ran
from one to another, saying:
“Why, what has happened here? How did all this come about? Has there
been a quarrel?”
“Better than that! The stout gentleman yonder was struck.”
“Struck! by whom? Freluchon?”
“No, by his friend--the young man who was playing écarté with the
baron.”
Chamoureau thereupon bustled up to the former wine merchant, who was
feeling his ribs.
“What’s this I hear? Edmond Didier struck you?”
“Yes, monsieur! but he shall pay me dear for it; that blow will cost him
his life!”
“What! you mean to fight with him?”
“Is it possible to doubt it?” cried Thélénie; “show me the man who would
not fight after receiving a blow--unless he chose to be disgraced
forever.”
“Oh! I will fight, madame; you may be perfectly sure that I will fight.”
“And I trust that you will kill that scoundrel who broke my husband’s
teeth!--Come, Droguet, let us go. What in the world are you looking for,
on the floor and under the tables?”
“I am looking for my teeth.”
“Mon Dieu! what’s the use? you don’t imagine you can glue them in again,
do you?--Oh! what a scene!”
“Monsieur de Belleville, you will be one of my witnesses[E], of course.”
[E] Luminot uses the word _témoin_ which means either a second (in a
duel) or a witness.
“A witness--what for?”
“For my duel.”
“But I can’t be a witness, for I was not here; I didn’t hear the
quarrel.”
“That makes no difference; it doesn’t prevent your being a witness.”
“Rely upon him, monsieur,” said Thélénie; “he will be too happy to
assist you in this affair.”
Chamoureau made a pitiful face, which indicated that he was not at all
happy to serve as second in a duel.
All the guests soon took their leave.
“What a pity that such a beautiful party should end like this!” was the
general sentiment. But many persons added under their breath: “For all
that, it appears that their real name is Chamoureau, and not
Belleville.”
Thélénie was not sorry to see the close of the festivities and the
departure of all her guests. When they were going away, she whispered to
Croque:
“Wait for me in the garden, in the left-hand path.”
When everybody had gone, and Chamoureau and his wife were left alone in
one of the salons, she said:
“Well, monsieur, what are you doing here?”
“Why, I was waiting for you, my dear love.”
“Waiting for me; why, I should like to know?”
“Why, so that we may retire together.”