eyes!"
"Oh! he didn't do any harm, I promise you, ducky!" said the hostess
sweetly, to allay her husband's suspicions; while Ménard, restored at
last to the light of day, struggled to his feet, with wig awry and
distorted features.
"Look ye, my friend," continued the innkeeper, "you didn't go in there,
sacrebleu! to look for violets, did you?"
Ménard looked from one to another, with a dazed expression; he had not
fully recovered himself. Dubourg succeeded in adjusting matters to
everybody's satisfaction; he divined why Ménard was trying to get away,
so he dispelled the host's suspicions, and reassured his wife concerning
the quarrel in the living-room. Then he ordered Goton to show them to
their bedrooms; which she did after the landlady had concluded to return
to her armchair and thus uncork the passage.
The best quarters that they could give our three friends consisted of
two very dirty rooms, with the ceiling rafters exposed, which cats and
spiders seemed in the habit of occupying in company with the guests of
the house. In each room there was a wretched bed, partly surrounded by
blue and white curtains resembling in design the common salad-bowl we
see in the country. Both beds were more than five feet high.
"These are modest quarters," said Frédéric, with a smile; "but in war
time we must take what comes, and it's the same when we travel, eh, my
dear Ménard?"
"To be sure; a night is soon passed, and these beds look comfortable."
"We shall need a ladder to climb into them."
"I see only two beds, monsieur le comte."
"Oh! don't worry about me," said Dubourg; "I shall not go to bed; I have
letters to write and despatches to send; and I will finish the night in
a chair."
"But I don't see any chairs, monsieur le baron."
"Never mind--a chair or a bench. When a man has slept in camp, he's not
hard to please. But the supper is a long while coming; I'll take a look
at the kitchen."
Dubourg went downstairs, and Frédéric walked to a window which looked on
the fields. The moon was shining on the village, where the most perfect
quiet reigned. The young man mused upon the contrast between life in
Paris and in that hamlet; he reflected that, at that moment, when the
villagers had all retired, the fashionable inhabitants of the city were
at the play or at social festivities, exhibiting their fine clothes and
jewels, and seeking pleasure. But need one leave the city to find
striking contrasts? In the house where people are dancing on the first
floor, on the second there is mourning for the death of a husband or
father; on the third, a young man is making a passionate declaration of
love to his sweetheart; on the fourth, a drunkard is beating his wife;
on the fifth, a gambler is filling his pockets with gold preparatory to
going out; and under the eaves, a poor girl passes the night in toil to
earn bread for her mother.
While Frédéric abandoned himself to such reflections, Monsieur Ménard
inspected the beds, and was pained to find that what he had deemed at
first sight so soft and comfortable was but a wretched mattress, and a
straw bed itself nearly four feet thick.
"What an insane idea it is of these villagers to have such enormous
straw beds!" said Ménard, as he examined the sheets, which scratched his
hand. "And I fancied that I was going to sink into a soft feather-bed!
These are terribly poor sheets! And yet, monsieur le baron says that one
is well taken care of here! I shall go to bed in my drawers. God grant
that the supper may make up for the rest!"
Dubourg had gone down to speak to his postilion, with whom he settled
his account, ordering him to leave the place before dawn; for he had
only three louis left of the twelve Frédéric had lent him, and he was
not anxious to keep a carriage that he could not pay for. That business
adjusted, he prowled about Mademoiselle Goton, to whom he wished to say
a few words. The servant was inclined to look favorably on Dubourg,
because he had borne himself gallantly with the peddlers; for a
courageous act pleases a country wench no less than a _petite-maîtresse_;
but Goton had to help her master in the kitchen, and then serve the four
men in the living-room, who seemed disposed to pass the night drinking,
and to postpone their departure till daybreak.
They laughingly toyed with the buxom servant, who had much ado to defend
herself from the familiarities of those gentry; but Goton was accustomed
to fighting with such clowns: she boxed the ears of one and kicked
another; she pinched and scratched, and the fellows found her all the
more seductive.
Being busily occupied thus in all directions, Goton could do no more
than whisper a word of hope to Dubourg, giving him to understand that
the peddlers would be gone at daybreak, her employers asleep, and
herself more at liberty. This promise delighted our friend; he was
talking with Goton at the foot of the staircase, and gave her a
resounding kiss. The girl ran away; but, on looking up, Dubourg saw
Ménard, who had come out, with a candle in his hand, to ascertain
whether they were likely to have any supper, and was decidedly amazed to
see the Palatine of Rava embracing a dishwasher.
Dubourg, who was never disconcerted, went to meet him, saying:
"The Emperor Heliogabalus rewarded the cook who invented a new dish; I
embrace the person who informs me that our supper is ready."
Ménard asked nothing more; he went back to Frédéric with Dubourg, and
Goton laid the table in one of the rooms.
"Now to the table, and _vive la gaieté_!" said Dubourg, more at ease
since he was certain that he would soon be rid of his carriage. Ménard
responded to the invitation by a gracious smile, and Frédéric finally
decided to leave the moon and turn his mind to earthly affairs.
"Let us taste the wine first of all," said Dubourg; "is it the best, my
child?"
"Yes, monsieur; it's the best, for we haven't got any other."
"It's a little sour," said Ménard, making a wry face.
"We have some white that's sweeter," said Goton.
"Go and get us some of the white, my dear; don't spare anything; you
don't have people like us to supper every day."
"No, indeed," said Ménard; "and we will hope that the rabbit stew is
made with that understanding."
Dubourg served the stew; but the innkeeper, disturbed by his wife's
adventure in the corridor, had allowed it to burn, and Goton, being
constantly beset by the four peddlers, had put the onions in too late
and had not grated the bacon. Dubourg vainly insisted on declaring that
it had a delicious odor; Ménard said nothing, because he dared not
contradict monsieur le baron; but his face grew darker with every
mouthful.
"What infernal kind of a stew is this?" said Frédéric, pushing away the
plate that Dubourg persisted in offering him. "A rabbit that has had
nothing to eat but cabbage, raw onions, and rancid lard; and a
detestable burned taste, in addition."
"It can't be denied," said Ménard, "that it doesn't come up to what
monsieur le baron told us."
"What do you expect, messieurs?" said Dubourg; "a cook must make
mistakes sometimes. _Errare humanum est_; isn't that so, Monsieur
Ménard?"
"A cook ought never _errare_, monsieur le baron."
"It's partly your fault, too. You disturbed his mind; why in the devil
did you go prowling about under his wife's skirts?"
"I only wanted to get by, monsieur le baron."
"Only a husband should take that road, Monsieur Ménard."
"My intentions were pure, monsieur le baron."
"I never doubted it; but your position was shockingly equivocal."
"Monsieur le baron, in the temple of Apollo, the pythonesses, seated on
the sacred tripod, received the prophetic exhalations under their
robes."
"If my wife had seated herself on that tripod, Monsieur Ménard, I should
have asked for a separation."
Goton put an end to this conversation by bringing an omelet and white
wine.
"Were the gentlemen satisfied with the stew?" she asked.
"It was worse than the devil!" replied Frédéric.
"It was a total failure," said Ménard.
"My dear child," added Dubourg, "the rabbits in Bretagne don't smell so
strong of cabbage. They have fine rabbits there; but here you have a
very bad way of bringing them up."
"It would seem that monsieur le baron has passed a good deal of time in
Bretagne?" said Ménard, respectfully putting out his hand to take a
pinch of snuff from the King of Prussia's snuff-box, which Dubourg
offered him.
"Yes, Monsieur Ménard; and I admit that I still have a weakness for that
province. I have such delightful recollections of it! Ah! how lovely the
sky is in Bretagne! And the fields--how pretty they are! What rich
pastures, what enchanting groves! You can walk leagues and leagues
without once leaving the leafy thickets and flower-grown paths which
make the fields of Bretagne one endless garden."
"But Poland, monsieur le baron?"
"Oh! Poland has its good points, of course. Have you ever been there,
Monsieur Ménard?"
"I have not had that honor, monsieur le baron."
"As you are not familiar with the country, I will talk with you often
about it."
"It must be a very interesting country."
"Extremely interesting, and extremely picturesque; first of all, we have
the Krapach Mountains, beside which Mont Cenis is no more than a little
hillock."
"Oh, indeed! they are covered with snow, of course?"
"Almost all the year. I have a château on the summit of one of those
mountains, where only chamois can keep their footing."
"But how do you reach your château, monsieur le baron?"
"I have had a winding staircase constructed inside the mountain; it cost
me a hundred thousand francs, but it's a wonderful piece of work, and
people come hundreds of miles to see it. I trust, Monsieur Ménard, that
I shall have the pleasure of showing it to you, and of entertaining you
for some time at my castle of Krapach. I will give you a glass of a
certain tokay which came to me from Tekely's cellar; and you will tell
me what you think of it."
"Ah! monsieur le baron, you overpower me. But it must be very cold at
your château, is it not?"
"It used to be very cold, in truth, in the days of my ancestors; but,
thanks to recent scientific discoveries, I have found a way of modifying
the temperature--a very simple method, which answers my purposes
perfectly."
"What is it, pray, monsieur le baron?"
"I have built a gasometer under the château; gas, as you know, makes the
earth very warm; indeed, in some places directly over the pipes, I raise
green peas in January.--What is it, my dear count? drink, drink, or you
will choke!"
Frédéric had, in fact, much difficulty in listening to this discourse,
which Dubourg delivered with imperturbable gravity, while Ménard
listened with childlike confidence to every word uttered by the baron.
At that moment, the conversation was interrupted by a violent shock,
followed by an ominous cracking.
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Ménard; "what can that be? This house doesn't seem
to be very solidly built."
"Can it be that they are firing cannon to celebrate our arrival in the
village?" Dubourg asked Goton, who replied, with a laugh:
"Oh! no, monsieur; it ain't anything; it's only madame going to bed,
that's all."
This explanation made the young men laugh; but Ménard was not satisfied
until he was assured that the hostess slept on the same floor; he would
not have consented to pass the night on the floor below a woman who
shook the house whenever she moved; it was quite enough to remain under
the same roof with her.
The white wine, being a little more palatable than the red, enabled them
to eat an omelet with parsley, which Dubourg tried in vain to make them
think was tarragon. For dessert there was nothing to offer the
travellers except some Géromé cheese, which could have walked to the
table unassisted at need, and the odor of which drove Frédéric from his
seat. He went to bed in the other room, bidding the servant wake him
early in the morning, as he had no desire to prolong his stay at the
inn. Monsieur Ménard deemed it his duty to remain with the baron, who
plied him with bumper after bumper and went into raptures over the taste
of the cheese, which, he said, reminded him of what he had eaten in
Switzerland, thereby putting an end to the ex-tutor's desire to lunch or
sup in a chalet.
"Yes, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg; "if you should go to Gruyère, a
small Swiss village noted for its cheeses, which are its only source of
wealth, you would smell a league away the chalets in which they are
made. When you have passed a night in one of them, you smell the cheese
for a week, an excellent thing for the lungs. But you must feel the need
of rest, Monsieur Ménard; pray go to bed. I propose to pass the night
writing."
"Monsieur le baron, I shall never dare to take the liberty--before
you----"
"Why not, pray? Diogenes went to bed in his tub, before Alexander; and
Crates did not hesitate to show his rump to his fellow citizens."
"It is you who order me to do it, monsieur le baron."
"I don't order you to show me your rump, Monsieur Ménard; but I urge you
to go to bed as if I weren't here."
Fatigue and the white wine combined to make sleep essential to Ménard,
so he did not wait to be urged again; he went behind the flowered
curtains, and prepared to retire. Meanwhile, Dubourg, seated at a table
in a corner of the room, pretended to look over papers and take notes,
but he was really waiting impatiently for the tutor to fall asleep, in
order to give the postilion of the berlin the signal to go; for he was
afraid that Ménard would wake early, and it would be very embarrassing
if the carriage were not then at a safe distance from the village. For
this reason, he was anxious to hasten the postilion's departure.
The gate was not closed; Goton alone would see what took place; Dubourg
knew how to assure her discretion.
It was a quarter of an hour since Ménard had disappeared behind the
curtains. Dubourg thought that he must be asleep, and was about to go
downstairs, when he heard a suppressed groan from the direction of the
bed.
"Aren't you feeling well, Monsieur Ménard?" he asked, partly opening the
curtains.
What was his surprise to find poor Ménard, in shirt and drawers and a
cotton nightcap, standing beside the bed, and trying in vain to reach
the top with the aid of a chair which was too low to bring his short
legs on a level with the mattress.
"What, Monsieur Ménard! not in bed yet?"
"No, monsieur le baron; I have been trying in vain for ten minutes to
climb up into my bed. Isn't it an outrage? I call it making fools of
their guests to give them beds that reach the ceiling! Everybody isn't
six feet tall; and unless one's a giant----"
"Come, come, don't get excited, Monsieur Ménard; why didn't you call me
to help you?"
"Oh! monsieur le baron, I shouldn't have presumed to take the liberty."
"You were wrong, for you can't pass the whole night trying to climb into
bed."
Without awaiting a reply, Dubourg bade Ménard stand on the chair; then,
placing his hands upon a certain rotund portion of the professor's
anatomy, he put forth all his strength to lift him into the bed.
"_Sic itur ad astra!_" he said.
"_Labor improbus omnia vincit_" rejoined Ménard, trying to seize his
bolster.
"Ouf!" exclaimed Dubourg.
"I am there, monsieur le baron!" cried Ménard, delighted to be safely in
bed at last.
"That's very lucky! Good-night!"
"A thousand thanks, monsieur le baron!"
When he left the bed, Dubourg was careful to remove the chair that stood
beside it, thus making it certain that Ménard would not rise until he,
Dubourg, chose. This precaution might result in placing the tutor in an
unfortunate position; whether it did so, the sequel will show.
Ménard had not been in bed five minutes before he was snoring
vociferously.
"Good! I am safe now," thought Dubourg; and, taking his light, he went
down noiselessly into the innyard. As he passed the living-room, he
glanced in: two of the peddlers were asleep on the table, the others
were still drinking; but everything indicated that they would soon
follow their companions' example.
Dubourg found his postilion, and, putting a five-franc piece in his
hand, ordered him to start at once. In a very few minutes, the horses
were harnessed, and the noble palatine's berlin was out of the village.
"But how are you going to manage about going away to-morrow?" queried
Goton, who had just joined Dubourg in the yard.
"Oh! we have another carriage, an excellent post chaise, which is being
repaired for us; as to what I have just done, I am going to tell you
what you must say; do you understand, Goton?"
As he spoke, he slipped two five-franc pieces into the girl's pocket; it
was a larger sum than the poor drudge often earned in six months at that
wretched inn, and the sight of the two great coins made her as docile as
a lamb.
"Oh! that's enough," she said, as Dubourg put his arms about her robust
figure; "that's enough! I'll say whatever you want me to; anyway, that
carriage was yours, and you could do what you please with it. _Jarni!_
you tickle me! don't pinch so hard! Oh! what a man!"
"Where is your room, Goton?"
"My room? I haven't got any room; I sleep in the little barn over there,
with the cow. _Dame!_ I don't have anything but an old straw bed on the
ground, because the missus says there's no use of wearing out sheets.
But it ain't cold there, anyway; Bebelle keeps me warm."
"Who's Bebelle?"
"Why, she's our cow. Oh! she's so soft and warm! But how he pinches!
Dieu! what a pincher you are!"
"Come to your room; we can talk better there; with you, Goton, the barn
becomes a boudoir, and straw, feathers."
"What's a boudoir?"
"Come, and I'll tell you."
"And what about the peddlers?"
"They don't need you any more; haven't they paid their bills?"
"Yes. Anyway, master knows 'em."
"In that case, there's no need of your sitting up any longer."
"But suppose they should want anything?"
"Two of them are sound asleep already, and the two others will very soon
be in the same condition. Come, I tell you; it's nonsense to sit up till
daylight for them. You need sleep, Goton."
The servant was half vanquished. She ceased to resist Dubourg's
arguments, and allowed him to lead her to the cow-barn, which they both
entered, closing the door behind them. The door had no other fastening
than a hook on the outside; but the girl slept there without fear, as
there were no robbers thereabout.
But one of the peddlers was not asleep; he, too, was engrossed by
thoughts of Goton, and he was waiting for his companions to lose
themselves in slumber before attempting to join the seductive servant.
This man had noticed that one of the strangers was prowling about Goton,
and it had irritated him; but he had not dared to watch him too closely,
being still held in respect by the recollection of the pistols.
When all three of his comrades had their heads on the table, he rose
softly and went out to look for Goton, knowing the location of her
bedroom. He took no light, in order not to betray his whereabouts, and
crept stealthily toward the cow-barn.
He was still some yards away, when he heard two voices saying some very
pretty things to each other; he crept nearer, and grasped the thread of
the conversation distinctly enough; for Dubourg and Goton, thinking
that their only neighbors were animals, were talking together without
restraint.
The peddler was furious, but how could he be revenged? He had no desire
to pick a quarrel with Dubourg; it would be a waste of time to call the
landlord, for that worthy man and his spouse always locked themselves in
their room to avoid being disturbed; besides, who would dare to assume
the task of getting the hostess out of bed? and, after all, what did it
matter to them that a guest was with their servant? they probably did
not consider themselves responsible for Goton's virtue.
The peddler determined to play some trick on the amorous couple. He
could think of nothing better than to hook the door on the outside,
which he did very softly, then stole away, delighted with his exploit,
and saying to himself:
"They won't get out of that place till someone lets 'em out; for the
door's a stout one, and I defy 'em to break it down."
He joined his companions; day broke ere long, and their business
required the peddlers to leave the inn. They were soon ready, and, as
they shouldered their packs, they listened to their confrère's story of
the trick he had played on the stranger. They all applauded him, being
overjoyed to be revenged on a man who had refused to be frightened by
their cudgels; and they went their way, laughing at the thought of the
scene that would take place at the inn in the morning.
During these occurrences, Ménard did not continue in the same tranquil
state in which we left him. The white wine, with which monsieur le baron
had filled his glass so often, produced its due effect. Ménard woke; he
turned over and put out his hand to find the chair, which he expected to
use as a means of descending from his bed; for in such wretched inns
there is never a night table. But to no purpose did he stretch out his
arm and feel about in all directions. He could find no chair! In that
case, how was he to climb down from that bed, which reached to the roof?
yet he felt sure that it was becoming absolutely necessary. He listened,
but could hear nothing; he put aside the curtains--the most profound
darkness reigned in the room. Monsieur le baron must have gone to sleep
in his chair, as he had planned to do; but, in any event, how could he
presume to ask the Palatine of Rava to give him the---- No, he could
never do that! On the other hand, to jump out of bed was to run the risk
of hurting himself, or at least of not being able to get back. It was
most embarrassing, and poor Ménard, sitting up in bed, could not decide
what course to pursue.
Necessity knows no law, says an old proverb; besides, monsieur le baron
was so kind and good-natured and obliging! This thought emboldened
Ménard; he coughed, gently at first, then a little louder; and finally
he ventured to call, in a low tone:
"Monsieur le baron--if you are not asleep, may I presume to ask you to
assist me? I am sadly embarrassed, monsieur le baron."
But at that moment Baron Dubourg was with Goton, busily engaged in
teaching her what a boudoir is, and that a garret, a thicket, a loft, a
cave, a kitchen, a cellar, or a barn may deserve that name when one is
in either of those places with one's love. And Goton understood the
lesson perfectly, because she was quick-witted, and because Dubourg, who
had had some experience, was an excellent teacher.
"Monsieur le baron must sleep very soundly," thought Ménard. "What a
cursed place this is! this infernal bed, where I can't turn over
without pricking my legs--I believe the mattress is stuffed with oat
straw! Well, no matter what happens, I must try to slide down."
He had put one of his short legs over the edge of the bed, when he heard
a tremendous uproar in the room; a chair was overturned, a jug that
stood on it fell to the floor and broke, and a number of dark objects
scuttled along the wall and went out through the door. Ménard was stiff
with terror.
"Monsieur le baron, monsieur le baron!" he called, in a stifled voice;
"is that you?"
There was no reply. The poor man had not the courage to leave the bed,
but buried his head under the clothes; his fright causing him to lose
all power of restraint, it soon became unnecessary for him to get out,
and he fell asleep without being further disturbed; for it was neither
thieves nor hobgoblins who had caused the tumult in his chamber, but
simply two cats, which, finding the door open, had paid a visit to their
usual place of abode. While fighting over a bit of rabbit, which
monsieur le baron had tossed under the table while declaring that it was
delicious, the beasts had overturned a chair on which was a jug of
water, and the noise had so terrified them that they fled incontinently,
abandoning the subject of controversy.