My first thought when I woke was of my two young women. I cannot say
whether Nicette or Caroline first presented herself to my imagination; I
know that I was attracted by both of them. But Nicette was an honest
girl and desired to remain so; thus far I had acted honorably with her;
I determined not to try to ruin what I had done. I would be her friend,
were it only for the sake of experimenting upon a novel sentiment toward
a woman.
As to Mademoiselle Caroline, I had formed a different estimate of her: I
did not believe her to be a novice; her little innocent air with
Monsieur Jules did not impose on me; she was on the lookout for a
husband, but she did not love that poor fellow; if she did love him,
would she listen with a smile to all the insipid nonsense that I
whispered to her? if she loved him, would she dance with other men?
Mademoiselle Caroline was a great coquette, and, in my judgment,
decidedly shrewd. And yet, she had treated me cavalierly enough when I
followed her on the street; to be sure, she was cross because I had
rumpled the finery she had prepared for the following day, which was at
that moment much more interesting than a new conquest, since it might be
worth a great many to her. But I should soon know what to expect.
At noon I betook myself to the shop that my sorcerer had indicated. He
had not deceived me: among a number of saucy faces, I recognized my
charming dancer. The young women all lowered their eyes at sight of a
young man; but they all scrutinized me furtively. Caroline recognized
me; I could tell that by a certain embarrassment, by her evident longing
to look at me, and by the assiduity with which she attacked her work,
the better to conceal her confusion. It was necessary that I should
pretend to have visited the shop for some purpose: I asked for flowers,
wreaths, trimmings; they were all shown to me, but it was a man who was
obliging enough to spread before my eyes all the treasures of the
establishment, and the young women did not stir.
That did not meet my desires, but I realized that I could not remain
there all day. I bought fifty francs' worth of artificial flowers, for
which I paid cash; and I left my address, asking that they might be sent
to me during the day, as I was to leave for the country in the morning.
The man promised, and I left the shop. Caroline must have understood me;
but would she come? that remained to be seen.
I returned home, informed my concierge that I expected some parcels I
had just bought, and that the messenger was to bring them up to my room.
I went up myself, and fretted and fumed like all young men awaiting
their first assignation, like all young women whose mammas keep them in
the house when they are burning to go out. An hour passed, and no one
came. Another hour had nearly elapsed, and I was on the point of going
back to the shop, when my doorbell rang. I reached the door with one
bound and threw it open; there stood Monsieur Raymond, laden with an
enormous pasteboard box.
"What do you want, Monsieur Raymond?"
"My respects to you, neighbor!"
"But what brings you to my door, pray?"
"I will explain. Allow me to come in and put down this box."
And, without awaiting my reply, he entered my reception room and seated
himself on a chair. I remained standing in front of him, hoping that
that would make him cut his visit short.
"Excuse me if I make myself at home; but my back is still painful. That
wall was devilish high."
"What do you want of me? I beg you to tell me, for I am in a great
hurry."
"Here goes: in the first place, I wanted to make my peace with you,
because neighbors ought not to quarrel."
"Bless my soul! I have no desire to quarrel."
"I'm very glad of that; then that's all at an end. I was on the watch
for an opportunity to come here to speak to you; the opportunity came,
and I grasped it. Somebody rang at my door just now and asked for you."
"What's that? just now? Who was it?"
"A girl--very pretty, too; but not so pretty as the one the other
night."
"A girl! what did she want? pray go on!"
"She brought this box for you, and said there was no message."
"Well! where is she? what did you say?"
"I took charge of the box, telling her that you had gone out, so that I
might have the pleasure of delivering it myself and making my peace with
you."
"Great God! is it possible? Must you always meddle in other people's
business, just to drive me mad? I'll stake my head it was she!"
I opened the box, while Raymond stared at me in amazement; he did not
know which way to turn, seeing the gleam of anger in my eyes when he
expected thanks. I found all the flowers I had bought, and, in my rage,
I kicked the box away. The bouquets and trimmings flew through the air,
and a garland _à la jardinière_ lighted on Raymond's brow; he dared not
remove it, because my outburst of wrath had stupefied him.
After storming about and crumpling and mutilating my flowers, I threw
myself into a chair and my eyes fell upon my neighbor. At that sight my
anger vanished; it was impossible for me to keep a serious face when I
saw Raymond crowned with paper flowers and glancing about him in terror.
I roared with laughter; that reassured him, and he followed my example,
but his laughter was of that forced variety which resembles a grimace,
and not that inextinguishable merriment in which the gods indulge when
Vulcan fills their glasses.
"Vulcan to find involved in this debate,
The gentle reader'd scarce anticipate."
"Well," said Monsieur Raymond at last, still trying to smile, "your
angry fit seems to have passed over?"
"I must make the best of it."
"Aren't you satisfied with the goods they sent you?"
"Much I care for the goods, Monsieur Raymond! you will compel me to
move."
"I, neighbor? Why so, pray?"
"Because you seem to be stationed beside me here to thwart all my plans,
to drive me mad with rage!"
"I don't understand."
"Why, in heaven's name, when people ring at your door by mistake, don't
you send them to me? Why do you say that I'm not at home when I am? Why
did you undertake to deliver this box, when I desired to speak to the
person who brought it?"
"My dear neighbor, I am distressed--I was entirely ignorant----"
"I beg you, Monsieur Raymond, as a favor, not to meddle in my affairs
any more, or we shall have a serious falling-out! You have quite enough
other occupation in the house, listening to the gossip of the cooks,
keeping an eye on the women, playing the spy on the girls, and mixing
yourself up in family rows, without disturbing yourself concerning my
conduct."
"I assure you, neighbor, that someone has been slandering me to you. I
am incapable--I love a jest, that's the whole of it; but I never gossip.
In the first place, I am not talkative. If I were, I might tell you that
the lady on the first floor has two lovers; that her husband keeps a
mistress; that Monsieur Gérard, on the second, is in a bad way in
business, and that I've seen summonses for him in the concierge's hands;
that Madame Bertin gives evening parties in order to get husbands for
her daughters; that her cook makes a handsome commission on her
provisions; that the cook at the rear of the courtyard has a lover she
carries soup to; that Gerville the government clerk is running into debt
and doesn't answer the bell when his creditors ring; and a thousand
other things. But it's none of my business; I have quite enough to do to
attend to my own affairs, without bothering my head about other
people's. I took this box, thinking that I was doing you a favor, and
because I wanted an opportunity to make myself useful to you. It made
you angry, and I won't do it again. After this, I'll send away people
who want to speak to you, even when you're not in. I salute you,
neighbor!"
"By the way, one other word, if you please. What sort of looking girl
was it who brought the box?"
"Why, very good-looking--that is to say, attractive."
"How tall?"
"Medium."
"Dark hair?"
"Yes; dark or chestnut-colored."
"Black eyes?"
"Yes; that is to say, dark gray."
"Ah! it was she!"
"Who is she?"
"That doesn't concern you, Monsieur Raymond."
"True; I asked the question inadvertently. Adieu!--By the way, are you
going to Madame Vauvert's to-night? There's to be a grand party, a
concert, and perhaps dancing. I fancy there'll be lots of people there.
I am going to sing the aria from _Joconde_. Monsieur Vauvert sent me
word that he should have a young woman who plays finely on the guitar,
and a gentleman who sings in Italian like a Bouffon."
"A most alluring prospect."
"I believe Madame Bertin is going, with her young ladies. The younger
one is studying a piece that she's to play on the piano. But time flies,
and I have a lot of errands to do.--Au revoir, neighbor! I promised
Vauvert to bring him a 'cello and a second violin to complete his
quartette. I must go and drum up my performers."
He went away at last. The infernal fellow was responsible for my failure
to see Caroline; for I had no doubt that it was she who had brought my
box. What was I to do next? If I went again to the shop, what should I
say? I had no idea; but I did not propose to have my rooms filled with
artificial flowers to no purpose. I returned to Rue Sainte-Apolline.
The proprietor was out; so much the better. I complained and stormed
because my flowers had not been sent. A girl rose and declared that she
had left them at my rooms. It was not Caroline; therefore, it was not
she who had come. I became calmer and shifted the blame onto my
neighbor's shoulders. The forewoman scolded the girl. I bought some more
wreaths, pretending that I had forgotten to buy them on my first visit;
and I asked to have them sent with me. This time Caroline was selected
to be the messenger. At last I was to have an opportunity to speak to
her freely, to be alone with her!
"One moment!" I said to myself; "I haven't reached that point yet; I
must not be too sure beforehand; one is so often disappointed!"
Mademoiselle Caroline walked with her eyes bent on the ground, and I
remained at a respectful distance; but when we were a few steps from the
shop, I put her into a cab, which took us to my domicile. She hesitated
at first about entering the cab, but I urged her; she consented at last,
and then she had no choice but to listen to all that love impelled me to
say, if I may give the name of _love_ to the caprice that had occupied
my thoughts since the preceding night.
But obstacles give added value to the most trifling fancy, and sometimes
transform a simple caprice into a deep-rooted sentiment. The difficulty
which I had encountered in obtaining an interview with Caroline caused
me to find a greater charm in her company; my words had more fire, more
eloquence; and so little is required to convince a girl whose heart is
already half vanquished.
Everything, therefore, led me to hope for the most perfect success. In
time the cab stopped, we alighted, and Mademoiselle Caroline handed me
my box, refusing to go up to my rooms. In vain did I promise, aye,
swear to be good; I was powerless to overcome the flowermaker's
obstinacy; all that I could obtain was an appointment on the boulevard
for the following evening.
She left me, and I entered the house alone. I could not help thinking of
the difference between Mademoiselle Caroline's conduct and Nicette's.
The little flower girl, who had known me but a few minutes, herself
proposed to come to my apartment at midnight; while the grisette, having
an excuse for going there, was afraid to venture in broad daylight. What
was I to conclude? That one realized the danger more fully than the
other? No. Nicette realized it; but she simply did not think of it; she
trusted me. That Caroline was more virtuous than Nicette was impossible;
indeed, I feared the contrary, and that there might be the same
difference in their respective morals as in the flowers they dealt in.
I must, in any event, wait until the time appointed for our meeting. I
determined to go that evening to Madame Vauvert's; not to hear Raymond
sing the _Joconde_ aria, but because there was generally a collection of
original creatures there that amused me, to say nothing of the master
and mistress of the house, who are well worth a chapter to themselves.