equipage; but Dubourg hastened to say to Monsieur Ménard, who took his
place modestly on the front seat and had not as yet done more than
glance furtively at his surroundings:
"This carriage is older than we are; it belonged to my grandfather. It
was in this same carriage that he rescued Stanislas Leczinski, when he
was pursued by his rival, Augustus, whose cause was espoused by the
Czar, while Charles XII of Sweden was the protector of Stanislas.--But
you know all that better than I do, Monsieur Ménard, for you are a
scholar."
"Oh! monsieur le baron."
"To return to this carriage--all my family revere it as I do; it is a
family carriage. When my father left Cracow, during a period of civil
commotion, this modest berlin contained six millions in gold and jewels;
it was the remnant of his fortune, with which he intended to live in
retirement in Bretagne, where they have delicious milk and butter."
At this point, Frédéric, who had bitten his lips at the six millions,
began to cough to overcome his desire to laugh, while Monsieur Ménard
looked at the carriage with the utmost respect.
"You will appreciate, Monsieur Ménard," pursued Dubourg, wiping his
forehead with a silk handkerchief, which he had thrust into his
waistcoat to give himself the aspect of a foreigner, "you will
appreciate that one becomes strongly attached to a carriage which
recalls such honorable memories. I know that it is not modern, and that
it might be hung better; twenty times, my steward has talked of having
it repainted, and of having it newly lined inside, but I always refuse.
This seat, which I now occupy, was once occupied by King Stanislas; that
in which you sit, by a princess of Hungary; and I confess, Monsieur
Ménard, that I am determined not to change this Utrecht velvet, which
has had the honor of supporting those eminent persons."
"I share your feelings in that respect to the full, monsieur le baron,"
said Ménard, who, enchanted as he was to travel with two men of
distinguished rank, was unable to contain himself when he was told that
a princess of Hungary had once sat where he was sitting. "This carriage
must be very dear to you; and I assure you, monsieur le baron, that it
rides very nicely, and that I find it very comfortable----"
At that moment a vicious jolt threw Monsieur Ménard forward, almost into
his pupil's lap; but he added, clinging to the door:
"_Ubi plura intent in carmine; non ego paucis offendar maculis._"
"_Vitam impendere vero_," rejoined Dubourg.
Frédéric looked out of the door, coughing harder than ever; while
Monsieur Ménard said, with a bow:
"I never doubted it, monsieur le baron."
"As I am obliged to remain incognito," said Dubourg, "I have not brought
any of my suite with me, and I confess that I am not inclined to
complain; I detest all the pomp and parade and etiquette which are the
accompaniments of high station. When I travel, I lay it all aside; I am
the man of nature, and I play the part of a simple observer. But, by the
way, my dear Frédéric, I haven't asked you yet where you are going;
would it be presumptuous in me to inquire?"
"No, indeed, my friend; I am leaving Paris because I found there only
coquettish or heartless women, who do not understand my way of loving."
"Well, my dear fellow, the trouble is that your way of loving is no
longer fashionable! However, this is mere amorous petulance, I see; you
are still a little romantic, a little sentimental.--We must cure
Frédéric of all such nonsense, eh, Monsieur Ménard?"
"That doesn't come within my functions, monsieur le baron; besides, we
must overlook a little something; Seneca says, you know: _Non est
magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiæ._"
"That is very true," Dubourg replied; "the greatest men have had their
weak points. Alexander drank too much; Antiochus dressed as Bacchus to
please Cleopatra; Æneas consulted the Cumæan sibyl; the Emperor
Maximilian died from eating too much melon. So it's not at all
surprising that Frédéric should have a too sensitive heart."
Monsieur Ménard bowed to monsieur le baron, who had given him a small
specimen of his erudition; which added not a little to the respect he
had already conceived for him.
"I have no definite plan," said Frédéric; "I intend, however, to visit
the countries which recall interesting events, or which have given birth
to illustrious men. One loves to tread the ground from which the genius
sprang that has outlived so many generations. In all that surrounds us,
we fancy that we recognize the great man who, by his writings, his feats
of arms, or his virtues, made his birthplace famous. In a word, my
friend, we are going, first of all, to Italy."
"What! can it be? Why, my own purpose, like yours, is to see a little of
the world, in order to add some new light to my poor stock of knowledge.
What a delightful idea! Suppose we make the journey together?"
"Gladly, my dear baron! it will be most agreeable to me, I assure you."
"Upon my honor, I am grateful to the chance that led to our meeting!
What an unexpected pleasure to travel with my friend the Comte de
Montreville and the learned Monsieur Ménard, to compare our reflections
concerning the places we visit, to be enlightened by the observations,
the friendship, and the learning of so distinguished a teacher!"
Ménard outdid himself in reverences, and began to express his thanks;
but Dubourg continued earnestly, giving him no time to reply:
"What a delight to visit ancient Rome with you--and magnificent Genoa!
to climb with Monsieur Ménard to the summit of Vesuvius, and even to go
down into the crater, if there is no danger! How pleasant to view, in a
friend's company, the tomb of Virgil and the Grotto of the Dog, and to
ascend, with a profound scholar, the Tarpeian rock! What pleasures await
us in Switzerland, the home of William Tell! that cradle of liberty,
whose morals have retained all their purity amid revolutionary tempests!
There we shall receive the most touching hospitality in every village;
we shall eat cheese there, Monsieur Ménard--oh! such cheese! I don't
undertake to say, however, that it's as good as the cheese in Bretagne,
for there's nothing like that; a charming country, Bretagne, studded
with woods, fields, and rich pastures. Ah! what fine cows they have
there, Monsieur Ménard!"
Frédéric nudged Dubourg, to make him leave Bretagne, whither he
constantly returned with the affection of a native.
"In Switzerland," he continued, "one often eats cheeses fifteen or
twenty years old; the excellent Helvetians know the secret of keeping
them for an indefinite time."
"They must be even better than our roquefort," said Ménard, who felt
sure of his ground when eating was the subject of conversation.
"Oh! I promise you they are; compared with the old Swiss cheeses, our
roquefort is no better than neufchâtel. However, Monsieur Ménard, if
you travel with me, I shall hope to give you cheese to eat more than
once."
"Ah! monsieur le baron!"
"We will visit the glaciers, we will ascend the Saint-Gothard, and the
Rigi, which you have to climb on all fours. What magnificent views we
shall have! And when we go down into the canton of Les Grisons, we will
botanize. Monsieur Ménard will gather herbs. We will watch the Swiss
maidens glean; they wear very short skirts--and we shall see some fine
sights!"
"Well, my dear master, what do you think of our plan?" queried Frédéric.
The former tutor was enchanted with it: to travel with a man of such
high rank, and so learned and agreeable, as Baron Potoski, seemed to him
great good fortune; and although the hard cushions and the jolting of
the berlin made him black and blue in spots, he felt brave enough to
travel a thousand leagues in a carriage which had held King Stanislas,
and in a seat which a princess of Hungary had occupied.
"Most certainly I see no reason why we should not travel with monsieur
le baron," he said; "and at the first post-office I will write to
monsieur your father and tell him of our fortunate meeting; he cannot
fail to approve our plan."
"No, no!" cried Dubourg; "on the contrary, you must not write a single
word to monsieur le comte. As I have told you, I am travelling
incognito; I don't want anybody to know where I am. My government
desires to appoint me ambassador to Turkey, but I am not at all desirous
of that distinction. Monsieur le comte might inadvertently let the cat
out of the bag, and all France would soon know my whereabouts; it will
be much better not to say anything."
"I agree with you," said Frédéric. "What's the use of saying anything
about it to my father? He left me free to go wherever I please, and
asked Monsieur Ménard to go with me as a friend, not as a mentor.
Surely, my father would be exceedingly pleased to know that I am
travelling with monsieur le baron; but in his delight at learning that I
am in such company, he would undoubtedly betray your incognito, and you
would be obliged to leave us."
"Yes, I understand," said Ménard; "and yet--if----"
Dubourg, seeing that the tutor still retained some scruples, made haste
to produce his horn snuff-box, which he offered to Frédéric, looking at
him with a meaning expression.
"Do you recognize this, my dear Frédéric? it's the one I showed you at
Paris."
"Yes, I recognize it perfectly," said Frédéric, with no idea of
Dubourg's purpose; while Monsieur Ménard glanced at the snuff-box and
waited impatiently for the baron to explain himself.
"Ah! it's a very precious object in my eyes!" said Dubourg, taking a
pinch of snuff. "You have no suspicion, Monsieur Ménard, to whom this
modest snuff-box belonged?"
"No, monsieur le baron."
"Modest as it is, I would not exchange it for one of solid gold. It was
the King of Prussia's snuff-box, Monsieur Ménard."
"The King of Prussia's?"
"Yes, monsieur; the great Frederick, who, as you know, was very fond of
snuff and often carried it in his pocket; still, he had snuff-boxes,
which were always very simple, like everything he carried. He himself
gave this one to my father, from whom I had it."
"Ah! monsieur le baron, if I might dare to crave the honor----"
And Ménard respectfully put out two fingers to take a pinch of snuff
from the Prussian king's snuff-box, which Dubourg smilingly offered him.
Ménard took a pinch with becoming humility. He stuffed his nose full of
snuff which he considered delicious, and, when he sneezed, the poor man
fancied that he bore some slight resemblance to the King of Prussia. He
had lost his head completely; the fumes of grandeur mingled with those
of the snuff, and at the third sneeze he cried, saluting Baron Potoski
with renewed deference:
"It certainly is not necessary to write to monsieur le comte."
V
A VILLAGE INN, AND WHAT BEFELL OUR TRAVELLERS THERE
At nightfall, our travellers arrived at a village of wretched aspect.
Dubourg ordered his postilion to set them down at the best inn; but as
there was only one in the place, they must needs content themselves with
that.
The inn in question was rarely patronized by travellers in carriages;
pedestrians were its usual guests.
Frédéric was disinclined to stop in that wretched hamlet, but Dubourg
insisted upon passing the night there. He had reasons of his own for not
wishing to go farther with his berlin; and as Monsieur Ménard was
hungry, and the remains of his pâté had been left in the post chaise,
he endorsed Dubourg's suggestion.
The carriage drove into a great yard filled with mud and dungheaps. Half
a score of ducks were splashing in a pool, apparently disputing
possession of it with some geese which waddled majestically around the
banks. Three pigs went grunting into every corner of the enclosure, an
old lame horse was quenching his thirst at a trough, on the edge of
which perched several hens, which laid their eggs in the house, in the
street, or in the yard, as it happened, considering probably that there
was little to choose between those places. Lastly, to complete the
picture, a number of rabbits showed their heads from time to time under
the hedge of a garden which had been turned into a warren; then fled in
alarm at the barking of a huge dog, whose duty it seemed to be to watch
the other beasts.
There was hardly room for the berlin to pass through a gateway, whose
dilapidated gate had not been closed for a long while. On one side the
wheels sank into a deep rut, on the other they had to pass over a
dungheap; so that, for a moment, Monsieur Ménard feared that the
Palatine of Rava's venerable berlin would be overturned, and himself
with it. But he got off with nothing worse than a fright. On the arrival
of the carriage, the rabbits and pigs fled, the ducks quacked, the geese
and hens flew away, and the dog barked under the travellers' noses;
while a dozen or more of idlers, and as many peasant women, who formed
substantially the whole population of the village, stood about the
gateway to see the occupants of the carriage alight.
"Where in the devil is he taking us?" said Frédéric, putting his head
out of the window, and instantly drawing it in again; for the wheels
had stirred up the filth which covered the ground and thereby caused it
to emit an odor ill adapted to attract the travellers.
"Let us hope that we are not in front of the kitchen," said Monsieur
Ménard, holding his nose.
"Don't be alarmed, messieurs," said Dubourg; "we shall be very
comfortable here; we must not judge by appearances, you know. I have
stopped at this inn, and I remember that they give you excellent rabbit
stews and omelets."
Although it might seem surprising that a palatine should be fond of such
commonplace dishes, Monsieur Ménard at once considered the yard less
offensive; and, alighting on the heels of Dubourg, who had stepped out
on the dungheap, he looked about on all sides, trying to discover the
kitchen.
The innkeeper appeared, with his cap over his left ear; he did not
salute the new arrivals, for, being accustomed to entertain only carters
or peasants, who care little for polite manners, he had contracted a
habit of treating all strangers with a certain familiarity; and the
sight of a carriage made little impression on him, because it was not to
such guests that he looked for the support of his establishment.
He was a little man of fifty years or thereabout, with a slight limp,
and a bloated nose which seemed to denote intemperate habits.
"Are you going to drink a glass of wine, messieurs?" he said, addressing
Ménard, who still had his nose in the air, trying to catch the scent of
a rabbit stew, and to whom the innkeeper's manner seemed lacking in
respect.
"Take us to your best room, my good man," said Dubourg; "we are going to
sup and sleep here. Set everyone at work; let the fire blaze and the
spits turn, and serve our supper as soon as may be."
"Yes," interposed Ménard, tapping the host's shoulder patronizingly;
"and understand, my friend, that you have the honor of entertaining
Monsieur le Comte Frédéric de Montreville, Monsieur le Baron Ladislas
Potoski, Palatine of Rava and Sandomir, and Monsieur Benoît Ménard,
master of arts and eminent professor."
"I shall never have room enough to put up so many people," said the
innkeeper, while Dubourg reproved Ménard for betraying his incognito and
begged him to be more discreet in future.
"Holà! Goton! Goton!" cried mine host, walking toward the garden; "come
and show these gentlemen into the house, while I look after the horses;
and tell my wife to see about getting supper."
Mademoiselle Goton appeared; she was a tall, stoutly-built damsel of
twenty, dark, with black eyes, and a sunburned complexion; her features
were irregular, but her retroussé nose and her fine teeth, which she
showed constantly, her mouth being rather large, made her face decidedly
attractive. If, instead of a short stuff skirt, a waist of coarse blue
woollen cloth, and a cotton cap, Goton had worn a dress which set off
her figure; if her skin had been treated with almond paste, and her hair
by a hair-dresser, she would undoubtedly have made many conquests in
Paris.
"Will you follow me, messieurs?" she said, smiling at the travellers;
for Mademoiselle Goton smiled very often, because it added to her
beauty; and in the smallest village, no less than in the largest city, a
woman always knows how to make the most of her advantages. Lacking a
mirror, a fountain is sufficient to train the simplest-minded.
Dubourg estimated the servant's qualities at a glance, and, as they
followed her, he said to himself:
"I will amuse Ménard with the supper, which shall be a good one, if I
can manage it. I can pass the time pleasantly with Mademoiselle Goton.
Ah! if I only could find some sentimental beauty to engage Frédéric's
attention! Failing a new passion, I will talk to him of Madame Dernange
and all his faithless charmers in Paris; that will serve to make his
evening pass quickly."
The best room in the inn was the one usually occupied by the carters and
peasants. Four itinerant merchants, who had arrived an hour before our
illustrious travellers, were seated at a table, drinking, and discussing
their business affairs.
The arrival of three new guests in no wise disturbed the four men. They
glanced at them, and continued their conversation.
"I'll set plates for you here," said Goton, pointing to a table covered
with a glazed cloth.
"No, no," said Dubourg; "we can't eat our supper here; you may serve us
in one of the rooms where we are to sleep."
"But this is the eating-room."
"That may be," said Ménard; "but monsieur le comte and monsieur le
bar--at all events, we don't choose to eat here."
These words caused the peddlers to raise their heads, and they
scrutinized the travellers, laughing contemptuously among themselves.
Ménard, fearing that he had offended them, and dreading a scene, was
already in the passage, where he waited for the servant to come; while
Dubourg, who was not long-suffering, eyed the four drinkers in his turn.
Frédéric, his mind still engrossed by his memories, paid little heed to
what was taking place.
"You see, Goton," said one of the four, with a sneering smile, "these
gents are too swell to eat in the same room with us. _Jarni_! we must
take care and not look at 'em too close; it might offend 'em."
"Nobody spoke to you," said Dubourg; "try not to be too insolent, or you
may be sorry for it."
"Oho! there's one of 'em who means to show his teeth!"
"For heaven's sake, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, putting his nose in
at the door, "don't let this go any further! These gentlemen certainly
have no intention of----"
"Hallo! he's a baron!" exclaimed another of the peddlers; "I took him
for a Swiss liniment-maker, with his silk handkerchief across his
breast."
"Did you see their carriage?" said a third; "it's an old shack I
wouldn't put my donkey in!"
"The wretches! to talk so about King Stanislas's berlin!" said Ménard;
but he made the remark in such a low tone that no one suspected that he
had spoken.
"Once more, hold your peace!" said Dubourg, "or we'll teach you whom you
have to deal with."
"Indeed!" said the peddlers, brandishing their cudgels; "perhaps we
might teach you something more."
Frédéric, who had been silent thus far, took a pair of pistols from his
pocket, and, walking toward the table at which the four men were seated,
he said calmly:
"Messieurs, whatever may be the titles we bear, we are men, and we are
quite able to prove it; we are not accustomed to using clubs, but here
is something that will make matters even between us. Everyone knows how
to fire a pistol. Which of you would like to begin with me?"
"Yes," said Dubourg, producing in his turn a pair of pistols of heavier
calibre; "and this is for the man who comes forward next."
At sight of the pistols, the peddlers changed color and dropped their
cudgels; those who presume too far upon their strength to insult those
whom they deem weaker than themselves, generally appear very cowardly
and foolish when confronted by such arguments.
Goton shrieked when she saw the fire-arms; the innkeeper came limping
into the room, and Monsieur Ménard, proposing to retreat to the end of
the passage, where it was quite dark, collided with the hostess, who was
coming to find out what was happening in the living-room.
The hostess, whose acquaintance we have not made as yet, was a woman of
fifty, short of stature, and almost as broad as she was tall. Her
corpulence had within a short time increased to such a degree that she
could hardly walk from her desk to the kitchen; even so, she had to make
a judicious and abundant use of flour to keep herself from chafing when
she walked. This difficulty in moving made her very sedentary; she
passed almost all her time in an armchair which the village carpenter
had made for her, of sufficient breadth to admit her enormous bulk. This
mode of life naturally caused her embonpoint to make rapid progress from
day to day. It was beginning to become disquieting, and the innkeeper,
limping as he did, took a long time to walk around his spouse.
She had heard Goton's outcry and her husband's exclamations, and,
suspecting that something extraordinary was taking place, she had left
her broad armchair and waddled along the corridor leading to the
living-room. As this corridor was narrow, her body closed it
hermetically and rubbed against the partitions on each side; so that it
was impossible for anyone to pass through in the opposite direction,
unless by jumping over her head or crawling between her legs.
It was this enormous mass with which Monsieur Ménard collided when he
attempted to leave the field of battle, all his youthful vigor being
restored by the sight of the pistols. Despite the violence with which
the tutor hurled himself against her, the hostess did not waver; solid
as a rock, and upheld, too, by the walls of the corridor, the bulky dame
contented herself with crying in a shrill falsetto:
"What's all this? who is it?"
Ménard, still dazed by the shock, was determined none the less to force
a passage, and he returned toward the person he had struck, hoping that
she had moved to one side or the other; he turned to the right and ran
his nose against a breast which rivalled that of the Hottentot Venus; he
stepped back and turned to the left, and collided with an arm that would
have darkened a window.
"Mon Dieu! where am I?" exclaimed poor Ménard, who had no idea of what
he had come in contact with, and, still trying to go forward, lowered
his head like a ram; while the hostess cried, louder than ever:
"Who is it? what's he trying to do? where does he want to go?"
Her shrieks attracted the attention of the travellers, peace having been
restored in the living-room, since Frédéric and Dubourg had exhibited
their pistols; the four peddlers had become more amiable and had
mumbled some apologies, with which the young men were content, having no
desire for a quarrel with such adversaries. So general attention was now
directed to the corridor.
"It's my wife's voice," said the innkeeper; "something very funny must
have happened to make her leave her chair!"
He hurried out into the passage with Goton, who carried a light; Dubourg
and Frédéric followed them, and they discovered the hostess, who was
shrieking louder than ever, because the sound of approaching footsteps
had increased Ménard's terror; he had resolved to pass at any cost, and,
being unable to force a passage on either side, had dropped on his hands
and knees and tried to crawl between the corpulent dame's legs. But she,
determined that the unknown, whom she believed to be a thief, should not
escape, could devise no better way of detaining him than to sit upon
him; so that she was fairly astride Ménard, when light was thrown on the
scene.
Goton laughed uproariously, and the innkeeper was petrified with
amazement. Frédéric and Dubourg tried to discover the meaning of that
amusing tableau.
"I can't stand it any longer," gasped Ménard, in a dying voice.
"I've got him! he's caught!" exclaimed the hostess triumphantly.
The poor fellow was so effectively caught, that he would have been
stifled if not rescued. But the innkeeper, jealous of his chaste better
half, whom he regarded as the most beautiful creature to be found within
a hundred leagues, instantly stooped and pulled Ménard from under his
wife's skirts, swearing roundly.