as the general had already begun to discuss with his father one of their
campaigns, which was likely to lead them far afield, he ventured to
inquire for her.
"She is probably in the garden," said the general; "either in her
aviary, or looking after her flowers, or in her summer-house. Go and
find her, young man; corbleu! that's your business; at your age, I would
have run here from Paris for a pretty face."
Frédéric profited by the permission; he went down into a garden, which
seemed to be extensive and well kept, and walked about at random,
looking for Mademoiselle Constance. He passed the aviary, but she was
not there; he turned into an avenue of lindens, at the end of which the
ground rose slightly and a winding path led to a sort of platform, where
there was a beautiful view. That was presumably what the general called
the summer-house, for Constance was sitting there, with a drawing-board
on her lap, sketching the lovely valley which could be seen from that
point. She did not see Frédéric, because her back was turned to the path
leading to the platform, and the young man drew near and leaned over her
shoulder without attracting her attention.
"So you have all the talents?" he said. Constance looked up, and at
sight of him her eyes expressed the pleasure she felt, while her bosom
rose and fell more rapidly. She made a motion as if to lay aside her
drawing.
"Go on, I pray you," said Frédéric; "I did not come here to interrupt
your studies; on the contrary, I should be glad to join you in them.
And, furthermore, your uncle insists that we must remain here several
days; so that our presence must not be allowed to disarrange your
habits."
"And are you really going to give us the pleasure of keeping you for
some days?" said Constance, unsteadily.
"Most assuredly. I cannot believe that my father will refuse his old
friend's invitation; he is much too happy with him for that."
"I am afraid, monsieur, that you, not having the same reason to enjoy
yourself here, will soon regret the diversions of Paris. We see very few
people here; you will surely be bored."
"You judge me very ill, if you think it possible for me to be bored with
you."
"Oh! I beg your pardon. I said that--because I was afraid; but if you
really love the country and music and drawing and reading, you ought to
enjoy yourself here."
Frédéric did not reply at once; he looked closely at Constance, and his
heart was oppressed by innumerable conflicting feelings. He saw in her
features a face that was still dear to him; he transported himself in
his imagination to the little wood by the brook, and a cloud of
melancholy darkened his brow. A profound sigh escaped him, and not until
several minutes had passed did he answer Constance, as if waking from a
dream:
"Yes, I am very fond of the country."
The young woman looked at him in amazement, and smiled; then, finding
that he said nothing more, she returned to her drawing-board, and tried
to continue her sketch. But Frédéric's presence embarrassed her; the
hand that held the pencil trembled, and she did not know what she was
doing.
Frédéric continued to gaze at her in silence; he was charmed by her
manner, her grace, her amiable yet reserved air. If Sister Anne had had
a good education, she would have been like her; she would have had her
manners, her talents; she would have had the same command of language.
And he began to consider that education, instead of lessening a woman's
attractions, imparts an additional fascination to them.
The conversation languished, for Frédéric often relapsed into reverie;
but, for all that, the time passed very quickly; it seemed that they
were happy to be together, and that that sufficed them. So far as
Frédéric was concerned, he would gladly have passed the whole day
looking at Constance and drawing comparisons. She noticed that he kept
his eyes constantly upon her; but his eyes were so soft, there was in
their expression something so tender and touching, that no woman could
have been offended at being the object of their scrutiny.
The arrival of the two old friends put an end to this situation, which
was very agreeable to the young people, although they dared not confess
as much, even to themselves. The general pointed out to the count all
the beauties of his garden, and the summer-house was one of them. The
count seemed extremely well pleased, for, as he approached the
platform, he detected a certain embarrassment, a certain emotion, which
added greatly to its attractions in his eyes. The general saw nothing of
it; he was not so keen an observer as his friend.
"We have two guests, as you see, niece," he said; "try to do the honors
of the establishment so satisfactorily that they won't think of leaving
us for a long time."
"I will do my best," said Constance, blushing.
"Mademoiselle," said the count, "your presence alone is enough to detain
us."
Frédéric said nothing, but looked at Constance, who, as she thanked the
count, cast a furtive glance at his son, as if to make sure that he
thought the same.
After dinner, two of the general's neighbors called. One was an
enthusiastic player of billiards, who could not sleep if he had not had
his game; the other, who was somewhat younger, had seen service in the
army, and had an endless stock of campaign stories, which he
interspersed with compliments and gallant speeches to Mademoiselle de
Valmont.
Frédéric declined to join them at billiards, in order to remain with
Constance and to hear her sing or play.
"Don't feel bound to stay with me," she said; "remember that we are not
in Paris."
"Unless it is disagreeable to you," Frédéric replied, "I prefer to stay
with you."
Constance smiled, and it was easy to see that it was not disagreeable to
her. In the country, especially under the general's roof, the most
delightful liberty of action was the rule. During the day, everyone did
whatever he chose; the count and his friend made frequent excursions in
the neighborhood, while Frédéric remained with Constance; they passed a
part of every day together in the garden.
"We must make the most of the last fine days," said Constance; "the
winter is at hand, and I must say good-bye to my trees and my flowers
and my birds. But I shall see them again; it is not an eternal
farewell."
"Don't you expect to return to your uncle's estate in the provinces?"
"Oh, no! I like this house much better; he bought it for me, and he is
willing that I should spend seven months of the year here. We shall
return to Paris for the winter. Uncle is so kind to me! He does whatever
I want, for he is very fond of me."
"Who could fail to----"
Frédéric did not finish his question; he checked himself, as if he
regretted what he had said, and Constance, taken by surprise, lowered
her eyes and said nothing. But she was beginning to become accustomed to
the young man's eccentricities. Sometimes, when he sat by her for a long
while without speaking, and seemed to be sad and distressed, she was
tempted to ask him what was troubling him; but she dared not; so she
held her peace, and sighed with him, although she did not quite know
why. Melancholy is a disease readily transmitted between two young
people of different sexes. Often the hours of silence are more dangerous
than a conversation devoted to love making.
Meanwhile, the intimacy between Frédéric and Constance was growing
closer day by day: hardly a week had passed, and they had abandoned that
reserve, that tone of gallantry and of formality, which is never the
tone of friendship or of love. The count talked of returning to Paris,
and Frédéric was surprised to find that he himself had not thought of
it; the week had passed so quickly!--Upon reflection, he was almost
angry with himself; he was remorseful because he had enjoyed himself.
But remorse never comes until after the fact.
"No," he said to himself, "I have not forgotten Sister Anne. I always
see her when I look at Constance. I always think of her when I have
Constance's lovely features before my eyes; I fancy that I am with her,
when, sitting beside Constance, I quiver with delicious emotion."
And he was probably still thinking of Sister Anne, when, on the day
before he returned to Paris with his father, as he sat beside Constance
in the garden, he took her hand and held it a long while in his.
Constance did not withdraw her hand. She lowered her eyes, and seemed
deeply moved. Frédéric said nothing, but he pressed her hand very
tenderly; and the sweet-tempered girl, perhaps unconsciously, returned
the pressure.
Thereupon the young man's embarrassment revived; he dropped the hand he
held, and hastily moved away from Constance, who raised her head, and,
observing his agitation, smiled at him with that indefinable charm which
captures and enslaves.
"Are you really going to-morrow?" she said.
"I must," faltered Frédéric, returning to her side; "I should have gone
sooner, I fear---- Ah! yes, it is she, always she, whom I see! I would
like to stay with you forever; I am so happy here! Oh! forgive me,
mademoiselle; I don't know where I am."
Constance was at a loss to understand this speech; but lovers never know
what they say, or say it very badly; and she readily forgave him,
because she interpreted it all according to her own heart, which told
her that Frédéric loved her; and such sentiments always seem to be well
expressed, for, in love, the eyes speak as loudly as the voice.
The count took his son back to Paris; but never a word concerning
Constance! Ah! monsieur le comte, you have your project, and you are
well aware what you are doing. A few days later, Frédéric said that they
ought to take advantage of the last of the fine weather to call on the
general; for he was burning to see Constance again--so that he could
think of Sister Anne!
XX
LUNEL, DUBOURG, AND MADELON
We left Dubourg about to start for Paris. He no longer travelled as a
Polish nobleman, but fared modestly on foot, with a stick in his hand,
which he swung jauntily as if he were simply out for a walk. He had no
bundle to carry, because he had his whole wardrobe on his back, which he
found much more convenient for a pedestrian. He saw at a distance the
localities where he had recently appeared in such magnificent and noble
guise. He passed quite near to Monsieur Chambertin's house, waved his
hand by way of salutation to that hospitable abode, and sighed--not for
its mistress, but for the old pomard in the cellar.
However, he walked quickly, for he still dreaded a meeting with that
infernal Durosey, whose presence he looked upon as the cause of all his
misfortunes. As he emerged from a narrow pathway into the highroad, he
found himself face to face with old Lunel, who was returning home in
charge of an ass laden with divers objects he had bought at Grenoble.
Dubourg hurriedly pulled his hat over his eyes and lowered his head,
having no desire to be recognized by Monsieur Chambertin's jockey. But
as he walked blindly on, he collided with the ass and nearly threw her
down.
"Can't you see where you're going, idiot?" exclaimed Lunel; "the road
isn't so narrow that you need to run into my donkey."
At the word _idiot_, Dubourg, who had never liked the old jockey, for he
had waited upon him with an ill grace during the whole of his sojourn at
Monsieur Chambertin's, and had constantly sought opportunities to show
his spite to him and to Ménard--Dubourg, who had not forgotten, either,
the horsewhipping Lunel had given the two little Poles, turned suddenly
upon him and struck him thrice with his knotted stick.
"Help! murder!" cried Lunel.
And as Dubourg's sudden movement had disarranged his hat, the old
servant recognized his features, and shouted louder than ever:
"It's that miserable palatine, who owes four hundred francs at his
restaurant! It's that sham baron, who showed madame such attention and
surprised monsieur! Peste! he ain't such a swell now!"
"Will you hold your tongue, you rascal!" said Dubourg, raising his stick
again.
"What are you hitting me for?"
"I am simply returning what you gave my servants; I've owed you this a
long while."
"Your servants--your servants! pretty servants they were! I suppose this
is my _pourboire_, because my master boarded you for a month, you and
your great scholar, who ate enough for six!"
"If I did your master the honor to visit him, what business have you to
make comments on it, you clown?"
"Oh, yes! a great honor you did him!"
"Take care, or I'll begin again."
As Dubourg still had his cane in the air, the old jockey decided to
lower his tone. He held his peace and looked about for the ass, in order
to go his way; but the animal had disappeared while they were
quarrelling; she had wandered into the underbrush that lined the road,
and was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh! mon Dieu! my ass! where is my ass?" cried Lunel, searching
anxiously in every direction.
"Faith! I have no idea. Find your ass, and I'll continue my journey.
Give my compliments to your mistress, and tell your master that, if he
ever comes to Paris, I'll give him a little reception, with fireworks."
Lunel paid no heed; he ran to right and left, calling: "Madelon! ohé!
Madelon!"--He rushed into a wooded path, and Dubourg, having lost sight
of him, went his way, laughing heartily at the adventure. About half an
hour after he had parted from Lunel, as he reached a place where the
road left the woods for the open country, he saw Madelon within twenty
paces, trotting slowly along with her pack on her back, following such
roads as she pleased, and halting now and then to eat a thistle or a
mouthful of wild briers.
"Parbleu! this is a strange chance," said Dubourg; "can it be that this
beast is sent to me by Providence? But I must be wary; the law may not
approve of my receiving gifts from Providence. However, I had nothing to
do with diverting this jenny from her road. Am I to blame because she
left her master? Never mind; I will begin by trying to restore her to
him."
Thereupon he walked back some distance into the forest he had just left,
and began to shout at the top of his lungs:
"Lunel! holà, Lunel! here's your jenny!"
There was no reply; Dubourg called again and again, to no purpose. Weary
at last of calling, he returned to the ass, saying to himself:
"It seems to me that I have done all I can, and my conscience is
beginning to be less troublesome. I can't go back half a league, and I
have no desire to present myself again at the house of my friend
Chambertin, who is no longer my friend. But let us see what this
creature has on her back; it is not probable that there's anything of
much value."
Dubourg began an examination of the two baskets, which were covered with
stout canvas. In one he found two syringes, one mechanical, marked: _For
madame_; the other plain: _For monsieur_; also, a large box containing a
number of phials and small pasteboard boxes.
"Oho! I seem to have struck a whole apothecary's shop! But here's a big
sheet of paper. Ah! it's the receipted bill; this will tell me what we
have here. 'Sold by Dardanus, Apothecary, Grenoble, to Madame
Chambertin.' Let us see: 'Tooth powder, salve for the gums, three jars
of superfine rouge, liquid almond paste, macassar oil to dye the hair,
bear's grease to keep it from falling out, Essence of Venus to soften
the skin, rouge _au vinaigre_ for the evening, vegetable blue to make
veins.'--Great God!" exclaimed Dubourg, interrupting his reading; "it's
very lucky that I didn't find this bill a month sooner, for it would
have taken away my courage, and I shouldn't have dared to make pretty
speeches to Madame Chambertin. Let us read on: 'Laxative pastilles,
emollient pills, soothing tablets.'--The deuce! it would seem that
madame is very excitable.--'Two pounds of hygienic chocolate.'--Ah!
that's better. Now, let's see what monsieur requires: 'Three hundred
issue peas.'--Ah! the rascal! that's what keeps his complexion so
fresh.--'Three bottles of Eau de Baréges, salve for corns, ointment for
bunions, cachou pastilles, mint, astringent pills, tonic tablets.'--Hum!
monsieur evidently isn't constipated. That's all of that. Now, let's
have a look at the other basket."
First of all, he found a box containing an exquisitely curled wig, which
madame probably wore when she had not time to arrange her hair. Also, a
wooden head, designed to hold the wig when it was not in use. Also, a
pair of riding-boots, and doeskin gloves.
"Deuce take me if I'll walk back to Allevard for a couple of syringes
and a parcel of pills!" said Dubourg, when he had concluded his
examination; "monsieur and madame may go without their supplies for a
few days. I will take possession--although I don't quite know what I am
to do with all these drugs. But I have an idea. Parbleu! an excellent
means of making use of this donkey and of travelling without touching my
purse, which is none too full. Who knows if I may not make my fortune?
Well, the die is cast! I have been a baron, a palatine, and an actor; I
have even played the part of a beast, unwittingly; surely I can play the
charlatan: it's the simplest trade, the easiest of all parts to play,
provided one has ever so little wit, cheek, and loquacity, and I have
all three. A charlatan I am, then. Indeed, who is not, in this world?
everyone plays the part in his own way: men in office with petitioners,
speculators with capitalists, knaves with fools, gallants with women,
coquettes with their lovers, debtors with their creditors, authors with
actors, booksellers with readers, and tradesmen with everybody. I am
one of those who cure all diseases, who divine them and forestall them;
in short, I am a second Cagliostro; I am familiar with the universal
pharmacopoeia, I have no confederate, I deal honorably; I have
discovered a thousand secrets, a single one of which would suffice to
make a man's fortune; and I sell pills for two sous, because I am a
philanthropist."
Having fully decided to embark upon this new escapade, Dubourg led his
donkey into a dense thicket. There he began operations by removing his
palatine boots, which were badly worn, and throwing them into the
bushes; he replaced them with the long riding-boots, which came halfway
to his hips, so that no one might recognize Baron Potoski in the dealer
in pills; he pulled over his head the blonde wig intended for Madame
Chambertin, having first tied the hair behind and made a Prussian queue;
he daubed his cheeks, forehead, and chin with superfine rouge; then,
mounting Madelon _en croupe_, with the two baskets containing his
itinerant pharmacy in front of him, he resumed his journey, inciting his
steed with his stick, by way of riding-whip.
Dubourg's singular aspect, his face surrounded by beautiful flaxen
curls, the long queue falling down his back, his high boots, which he
held as far back as possible because the baskets were much in his way,
and, lastly, his majestic bearing, attracted the attention of all the
peasants he met. They called to one another to look at him. They stood
at doors and windows to watch him pass, and at times a number of boys
followed at his heels. Dubourg bowed to right and left, with a
benevolent expression, calling out in a loud tone:
"Have you any aches or pains, my children, in the foot or the ear? do
you have bad dreams? do you suffer when you are asleep? have you been
beaten? are you blind, dumb, or paralyzed? Draw near; grasp the golden
opportunity! I am the great restorer, the great cure-all, the great
operator! Make haste to profit by my presence in this province; I shall
not come again for thirty years, and probably I shall not find you all
then. Come, my friends; I cure everything, I do everything--I even make
children, when they are ordered in advance. The only thing I don't do is
extract teeth, but I can supply a lotion that makes them drop out, and
the result is the same."
Peasants are naturally credulous. On hearing this harangue, some of them
approached Dubourg, and, after respectfully removing their hats or
making a reverence, proceeded to tell him their ills. When the number
about him was considerable, Dubourg took from his basket the mechanical
syringe, which he had filled with Eau de Baréges; then he pressed the
spring, and the villagers had to hold their noses; but they remained,
because the syringe played the air _Avec les Jeux dans le Village_, and
Dubourg said:
"This magic syringe, my children, came to me from the favorite sultana
of the Sultan of Egypt. It plays three hundred tunes; but, as it is
subject to whims, it insists on playing the same one over and over
to-day. This marvellous water that comes from it--it does not smell like
rosewater, by the way--is a prompt and certain remedy for women with the
colic. I sometimes administer these remedies myself, but I have to be
very particular as to persons, for this syringe doesn't fit all
figures."
After this speech, Dubourg listened to the complaints of each one in
turn, then looked through his pharmacy, and distributed drugs at random,
but received the price with the utmost assurance, promising that the
effects would soon appear. He gave a nurse liquid almond paste; a man
with a fever, cachou pastilles; for a cold, he prescribed pellets that
he had made of the salve for corns; for asthma, macassar oil; for a pain
in the chest, bear's grease; and for the stomach-ache, rouge _au
vinaigre_.
After this promising début, he belabored Madelon and rode away as fast
as possible from his patients. He was not half a league away, when the
poor creatures began to feel the effects of his remedies. Some held
their hands to their bellies, some were nauseated, some had a violent
headache, some could not endure the taste of the drug they had
swallowed, and some ran after the charlatan, calling him _swindler_ and
_thief_. But he did not wait for them. Luckily, he was prudent enough to
administer his remedies in very small quantities, so that the results
were not serious.
Dubourg was careful not to attempt any cures in the neighborhood of the
places where he stopped to eat or to sleep. After travelling about forty
leagues in a fortnight,--for, as the great healer halted frequently to
sell his drugs, and as his steed's best gait was a slow trot, he did not
get ahead very fast,--Dubourg found himself one day in front of an
extensive farm. It was a long while since he had sold anything, for as
he drew nearer to the capital he found the country people less and less
gullible. His fortune had not increased. He spent regularly at night
what he had earned during the day; and when his receipts were large, he
fared sumptuously, content to leave his original hoard untouched.
The appearance of the farm made Dubourg disposed to stop there. As he
had neither bugle nor hunting-horn, he announced his presence with his
mechanical syringe, beating time with his cane on the wig-block. The
farm people came out. Among them Dubourg noticed a fresh, rosy-cheeked
girl, with a mischievous eye and a small foot, and he at once conceived
a fervent desire to become her physician.
Several buxom dairymaids procured ointments for fever and chilblains,
and a number of peasants bought pastilles of mint and cachou for
toothache; but one and all stared in amazement at the marvellous syringe
that made music, and the wig-block that spoke when it was stormy, as its
owner assured them.
The pretty girl was a daughter of the farmer, who happened to be absent.
With her was her aunt, a good old soul who believed in dreams, fortune
telling, magic, ghosts, talismans, and sorcerers. She was anxious to
consult Dubourg, because for three nights past she had fallen asleep on
her back and waked up on her stomach, which she considered very
extraordinary.
"I'll give you something that will keep you from changing your
position," said our charlatan to the old woman, while ogling the young
one; "here are some pastilles that came to me from a native of the
Guinea Coast, who sometimes slept a whole week on his left ear. But if
you take them in moderate doses, you pass a delightful night, and have
charming dreams, divine dreams, such dreams as you had at fifteen! It is
so pleasant, that you don't want to wake up. And then, my dear lady,
when you have taken them, you are certain to dream of any person you
choose; all you need to do is walk round your somno before you go to
bed."