It was not late when I returned to the boulevard; the performances at
the small theatres were not yet at an end. A dozen ticket speculators
ran to meet me, offering to sell me checks.
"There's one more act, monsieur," they shouted in my ears; "it's the
best of all; you'll see the duel with a sword and an axe, the fire, and
the ballet. It's a play that draws all Paris. You can go to any part of
the theatre."
Unable to resist such urgent solicitations, I bought a check which
entitled me to admission to any part of the theatre; but they would only
allow me to go into the pit, or to walk around the corridor. I chose the
latter alternative; as there was but one act to be played, I could see
well enough; and then, the things that happen in the auditorium are
often more amusing than those that happen on the stage. I am rather fond
of examining faces, and there are generally some comical ones in
attendance upon melodramas; the theatres at which that class of play is
given are, as a general rule, frequented by the common people and the
middle class, who do not know what it is to conceal their feelings, and
who consequently abandon themselves unreservedly to all the emotion
aroused by a scene of love or of remorse.
"Ah! the cur! ah! the blackguard!" exclaimed my nearest neighbor
whenever the tyrant appeared; "he'll get his finish before long."
I glanced at the speaker; I judged from his hands and his general aspect
that he was a tanner; his eyes were brighter than those of the actor who
played the traitor and against whom he vociferated loudly at every
instant. In front of me, as I stood behind the seats, I noticed a
laundress who sobbed bitterly as she listened to the story of the
princess's misfortunes, and a small boy who crouched under the bench to
avoid seeing the duel.
"How these good people are enjoying themselves!" I thought; "they are
not surfeited with the theatre; they are absorbed by what is taking
place on the stage; they don't lose a single word, and for the next week
they will think of nothing but what they have seen to-night. I will go
up to the first tier of boxes; there is more style there, but less
enjoyment."
Through a glass door I caught sight of a most attractive face; I gave
the box opener the requisite amount of money, and entered the box,
determined to do my utmost to make up for the time I had wasted with
Mademoiselle Caroline.
The lady, who had seemed a charming creature seen through the glass, was
less charming at close range. However, she was not unattractive; she had
style, brilliancy, and dash. She was still young; I saw at once that she
was inclined to flirt, and that the appearance of a young man in her box
would divert her for a moment.
You will understand, reader, that I was a young man; I believe that I
have not yet told you so. Later, I will tell you who I am, and what
talents, what attractive and estimable qualities, I possess; it will not
take long.
A gentleman was seated beside the lady in question; he had a commonplace
face, but was fashionably dressed and had distinguished manners. Was he
her husband? I was inclined to think so, for they hardly spoke to each
other.
I regretted that I had only about half an act to see; with more time, I
might have been able to enter into conversation, to make myself
agreeable, to begin an acquaintance. It seemed to me that I made a
favorable impression; she bestowed divers very soft glances on me; she
was seated so that she could look at me without being seen by her
companion. The ladies are so accustomed to that sort of thing, and so
expert at it!
"Ah!" I thought; "if ever I marry, I will always sit behind my wife; for
then---- Even so; but if somebody else sits beside her, can I prevent
the feet and knees from doing as they will? It is most embarrassing."
"This play isn't so bad," said the lady at last, to her neighbor; "the
acting here is not at all amiss."
"Yes, yes;" nothing but _yes_. Ah! he was surely her husband. I listened
intently, for she was evidently speaking for my benefit.
"I was horribly bored last night at the Français; Mars didn't act.
Aren't we going to the Opéra to-morrow? There's to be an extra
performance."
"As you please."
"After all, it's too hot for enjoyment at the theatre. If there wasn't
always such a medley in the public gardens on Sunday, I would rather go
there than shut myself up in a theatre. What's your idea?"
"It makes no difference to me."
The lady made an impatient gesture. The gentleman did not notice it, but
moved nearer the front of the box. I rose to look at the scenery, and my
hand happened to come in contact with the lady's arm, but she did not
move.
"These theatres are wretchedly ventilated; there's a very unpleasant
odor here," she said, after a moment.
I thought of my coat tails, which, in truth, smelt anything but sweet. I
could not help smiling, but I instantly offered her a smelling bottle.
She accepted it, and when she returned it did not seem offended because
I pressed the hand with which she presented it to me.
At that moment the curtain fell.
"The devil!" I muttered to myself; "what a shame! I came too late.
Mademoiselle Caroline is responsible for it. But what am I saying? If it
had not been for her, I should still be on Boulevard Montmartre, gazing
at the stars; it was because I followed her that I came in here to see
the last act; and by running after a grisette I have fallen in with a
_petite-maîtresse_ who perhaps is inferior to the grisette! How one
thing leads to another! It was because something was thrown on my coat
that this lady complained of the unpleasant odor, and that I offered her
my smelling bottle and squeezed her hand. After this, who will tell me
that there is no such thing as fate? If I should make this gentleman a
cuckold, it would certainly be the fault of Mademoiselle Caroline, who
refused to listen to me."
We left the box. I assisted my neighbor to climb over the benches, which
were stationary for the convenience of the public. But the husband took
her arm, and I was obliged to fall behind.
"Shall I follow, or shall I not follow?"--Such was the question I asked
myself as I descended the staircase. After what had happened to me so
short a time before, I ought to have kept quiet the rest of the evening;
but I was twenty-four years old, I loved the fair sex passionately;
moreover, my last mistress had just proved unfaithful to me,--indeed, it
was that fact which was responsible for my melancholy meditations,--and
a young man who has a strong flavor of sentiment in his makeup cannot
exist without a passion. Unquestionably I was----
We were no sooner on the boulevard than they crossed the sidewalk to the
curbstone.
"Aha!" I said to myself; "they are going to take a carriage; I'll just
listen to what they tell the driver, and in that way I can learn the
address without putting myself to any trouble."
But it was decreed that I should be disappointed again in my plans. They
walked to a dainty vis-à-vis and called _André_; a footman ran to them,
opened the door, and assisted monsieur and madame to enter.
My self-esteem received a still sharper prick; a woman who had a
carriage of her own! Here was a conquest that merited the expenditure of
some little time and trouble. I determined to follow madame's
carriage--not on foot; that would be too fatiguing! it might do if she
were in a cab; but with private horses--why, I should have inflammation
of the lungs! I spied a cabriolet, which was just what I wanted. The
other carriage was driving away, so I lost no time.
"Hi, _cocher_!"
"Get in, monsieur."
"I am in."
"Where are we going, bourgeois?"
"Follow that carriage just ahead of us, and you shall have a good
_pourboire_."
The rascal did not need it; I saw that he was already tipsy. I wished
then that I had taken another, but it was too late to change. He lashed
his emaciated horse with all his strength; the infernal beast broke into
a gallop of desperation, and sometimes outstripped the private carriage.
"Look out!" I said to my driver; "don't whip it so hard; let's not have
an accident."
"Don't you be afraid, bourgeois, I know my business; you see, I haven't
been driving a cab twenty years without finding out what driving means.
You're with some friends in the green fiacre yonder; very good! I
propose to have you get there ahead of 'em."
"But I did not tell you that I was with anybody; I want you to follow
that carriage; if you pass it, how can you follow it?"
"I tell you, bourgeois, that they're a-following us; I'll show 'em that
my horse is worth two of theirs. When Belotte's waked up, there's no
stopping her."
"Morbleu! you go too fast! We have passed the carriage; where is it
now?"
"Ah! they're trying to catch up with us; but the coachman's mad. I'm
driving you all right, bourgeois."
"But stop--stop, I tell you!"
"Have we got there?"
"Yes, yes! we've got there."
"Damme! you see, Belotte's got her second wind, and she's a good one to
go, I tell you. Ho! ho! here you are, master. Where shall I knock?"
"Nowhere."
"Ha! ha! not a sign of a fiacre anywhere! Didn't I tell you that you'd
arrive ahead of the others? You see, it's a whim of mine to pass
everything on the road."
I alighted from the cabriolet and looked all about; no sign of a
carriage; we had lost it. I was frantic; and I had to listen to the
appeals of my drunken driver, who wanted his _pourboire_. I was tempted
to break his whip over his back; but I restrained myself and adopted the
quickest method, which was to pay him and dismiss him.
"When you want a good driver and a good horse, bourgeois, I'm your man,
you see; you'll always find me on Place Taitbout, near Torchoni's--in
the swell quarter. Ask for François; I'm as well known as the clown."
"All right; I'll remember."
The villain drove away at last, and I was left alone in a street which
was entirely unfamiliar to me. It was getting late, and, as I had no
desire to pass the night walking the streets, I tried to discover my
whereabouts! After walking some distance I found myself at a spot which
I recognized; I was on Rue des Martyrs, near the Montmartre barrier.
Luckily, I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, and to get there I had simply
to walk down the hill. So I started, reflecting as I walked. It was a
fitting occasion for reflection, and I had plenty of time. But my
reverie was again interrupted by outcries. As the Quartier des
Porcherons is not frequented by the most select society, and as I was
nowise inclined to seek a third adventure at the Grand Salon, I
quickened my pace, in order to avoid unpleasant encounters.
But the noise continued; I heard cries and oaths and blows. Women were
calling for the police, the magistrate, and all the constituted
authorities of the quarter; men were pushing and striking one another
and throwing one another into the gutter. Windows were thrown open, and
heads appeared enveloped in nightcaps; they listened and laughed and
conversed from window to window, asking what the trouble was; but they
refrained from going down into the street, because it is not prudent to
meddle in a quarrel after dark.
The open windows and the faces surmounted by nightcaps reminded me of my
little mishap on Rue des Rosiers. I no longer walked, but flew! fancying
that I was pursued by fatality. But I heard someone running behind me; I
turned into a street to the right; the footsteps followed me. At last I
stopped to recover my breath, and in a moment my pursuer overtook me and
grasped my arm.