this is.”
“Violet.”
“And this?”
“Linden leaves.”
“And--and--well! here’s something else now!”
“What’s the matter, Georget? Have you lost something?”
“Lost! oh, no! not by any means, mother! What I have just found in my
pocket certainly wasn’t there before! I am sure of that.”
“Why, what have you found in your pocket?”
“Here, look, mother!”
And the young messenger tossed upon the good woman’s bed four five-franc
pieces.
“Twenty francs, Georget! twenty francs! What does this mean? where did
you get all that money, my son?”
“I haven’t any idea, mother; and I am very sure that I didn’t have it
when I came home. I didn’t have a sou.”
“But this money didn’t get into your pocket of itself. Answer me,
Georget, and above all, don’t lie.”
“Mon Dieu! how you say that, mother! Do you suppose that I am capable of
having stolen this money from someone, I should like to know?”
“No, my dear, I do not suppose that my son, that the child of my honest
Brunoy, would ever do a wicked action; but I have always carefully
preserved your father’s watch, and some time, without my knowledge, to
help me, you might have----”
“Pawned papa’s watch! Oh! never! I’d rather pawn myself! but wait,
mother; I remember now; yes, that must have been it.”
“What? tell me.”
“That gentleman on the third floor, when I had the loaf of sugar and the
box of charcoal in my arms, insisted on putting all these little
bundles of dried leaves in my pocket himself; and that’s the way he
stuffed these five-franc pieces into my pocket! Oh! I am sure of it now!
for he went into his bedroom alone, to get the money, no doubt. It was
him, mother, it was him; indeed, who else could have given me all this?”
“You are right, Georget, it can’t have been anybody else; people who
like to do good, think of everything, and it seems that he is very kind,
this Bear!”
“Yes, indeed, he is kind, but I shall not keep his money. I will work
to-morrow, and earn some; and he has put us under enough obligation by
lending us sugar and charcoal. Mother, we mustn’t keep these twenty
francs that he slipped into my pocket so slyly, so that I could not
thank him, must we? But still, it was very nice of him, all the same; he
isn’t like other people, that gentleman! I’ll bet that when he tosses a
piece of money to a poor man, he doesn’t try to make it ring on the
sidewalk when it falls.”
“No, my dear, we mustn’t keep the twenty francs, for it is quite a large
sum, and it would be too hard to repay it.”
“I am going to take it back to the gentleman right away.”
“Oh! it must be quite late now; Monsieur Malberg has gone to bed, no
doubt, and is probably asleep; if you wake him up, he won’t like it.
Wait till morning, and when he’s up, you can take the money back to him,
and thank him again for both of us.”
“After all, you are right, mother; it will be better for me to let the
gentleman sleep, who has helped me to cure you. I will go to-morrow
morning, when his negro is up.--But the water is still boiling; give me
what I need for your tea.”
The invalid chose one of the herbs. Georget soon made the tea and
carried his mother a cup smoking hot and well sweetened; and when she
had drunk it, he filled the cup again and placed it on the table by the
bed.
“If you are thirsty again in the night,” he said, “you must drink this;
it will be all ready; now try to go to sleep.”
“Yes, my dear, but it seems to me that I feel better already.”
“Well! mother; it is always like that; when a person has all that he
needs to get well, then the disease must go.”
“Oh! not always, my boy, for in that case rich people would never be
sick; but the thing that relieves one is contentment, happiness. It
requires so little to make poor people happy! and what has happened to
us this evening is real good fortune.”
“Oh, yes! it is a kind of good fortune that the rich do not know, but
that they can confer on others; and that must be a great pleasure
too.--Good-night, mother; if you need anything, call me.”
VII
A DIFFICULT ERRAND
The next day, before six o’clock, Georget was up and dressed; he went
first to inquire concerning his mother’s health; the invalid had slept,
and felt better, although she was still too weak to rise. She smiled as
she said:
“Up already, my dear?”
“I must earn a lot of money to-day, mother, in order to bring you all
that you need.”
“But I need nothing, as I have the material for making herb tea.”
“Oh! nobody knows! if you get better, perhaps a little beef soup won’t
be a bad thing for you. When a fellow is out on the boulevard early, he
is more apt to find work. There are maids who have bundles to send,
people who have to go into the country and are looking for a cab----”
“Poor Georget! what a miserable trade yours is! Knowing how to write and
figure as you do, you ought to have found a place in some office, or a
clerkship in some shop.”
“Oh, yes! and wait a year or two before earning any kind of a salary!
Don’t think about that any more, mother; I am very happy as I am! A
clerk! shut up all day in an office! oh! how sick I should get of that!
then I should never see her!”
“Who is it that you’d never see, my child?”
Georget blushed, but made haste to reply:
“I mean that I shouldn’t see you during the day, whenever I wanted to.
By the way, mother, I must go to see the gentleman on the third floor,
the gentleman who is so kind, although he doesn’t show it. I am going to
return his twenty francs.”
“Isn’t it a little too early? He isn’t up yet, probably.”
“Oh! I am very sure that he gets up early; he isn’t one of the kind to
coddle himself. Anyway, I’ll ask his valet, that mulatto who’s such a
strange creature, they say.”
“Go, my dear, and thank the gentleman from me, until I can do it
myself.”
Georget cast a glance at the mirror to make sure that nothing was
lacking in his costume. When a man is in love, he becomes particular
about his looks, and Georget would have been very glad to please the
pretty flower girl of the Château d’Eau, who seemed to look upon him as
a child; that distressed the poor boy, he was sorry that he was not at
least twenty years old, because he thought that then she would pay more
attention to him. For we are never content with the passage of time;
when we are young, we think that it doesn’t move fast enough; later, we
complain because it moves too fast. And yet we know that the wisest
course is to take it as it comes; probably we are not often wise, as we
are always growling about it.
Georget went down to the third floor, and rang softly at Monsieur
Malberg’s door; a very dark mulatto, whose hair age had not yet turned
white, and who spoke French very well for a colored man, and very ill
for a Parisian, opened the door and recognized the young messenger whom
he had met sometimes on the stairs.
“Hullo! it’s Monsieur Georget. Morning, Monsieur Georget! What you come
here for so early?”
“Monsieur Pongo, I would like to speak to your master, Monsieur
Malberg.”
“Oh! master not up yet, he still sleep; I get up sooner, to tidy the
room, rub floor here in the morning without waking master.”
“If he is still asleep, I will wait.”
“Yes, you sit down on a nice little chair, like this.”
“Thanks, Monsieur Pongo; I hope I am not in your way; go on with your
work.”
“Yes, yes, then I go very soft and see if monsieur still sleep.”
The mulatto went into another room. Georget sat down and waited. After a
few moments he heard voices in the next room and supposed that Monsieur
Malberg was awake. But still he was left alone, nobody came, and
Georget, beginning to be impatient, coughed, walked about the room and
stole softly to the door, which was ajar. He was surprised to find that
the mulatto was alone, but that as he did his work, he kept up a steady
conversation with all the furniture and other objects in the study,
which to him were people to whom he gave names, according to the custom
of the people of his country.
“You stay there, Broubrou!” said Pongo to a tall Voltaire easy-chair.
“You all right, you satisfied, all brushed, all cleaned, all ready for
master to use, unless he take Babo, the little horsehair chair. Oh!
Babo, you’d be mighty pleased if master took you instead of Madame
Broubrou! she take up much more room.--There! now you all cleaned, well
rubbed, good ‘nough to eat.--But I forget Zima; where you hide yourself,
Zima? oh! no good for you to hide yourself, I know all right how to find
you.”
And the mulatto looked in every corner of the room, and at last
succeeded in finding a small bamboo cane with a gilt head. It was that
cane to which Pongo had given the name of Zima. He took it up and shook
it impatiently, muttering:
“Ah! Mamzelle Zima, you try to make fun of Pongo and keep out of sight a
long time. Suppose me cross and not rub you head to make you shine, how
you like that, eh, Mamzelle Zima?”
At this point, the scene between the mulatto and the cane was
interrupted by shouts of laughter. They came from Georget, who, not
being used to the customs of Africa, had been unable to restrain longer
the desire to laugh, caused by the faithful Pongo’s monologue. He turned
when he heard the laughter, and seeing the youth, began to laugh too,
and, cane in hand, to take several steps of a strange dance which
recalled the famous dance of the _Cocos,_ performed in all the
melodramas in which negroes are introduced.
A ring at the bell interrupted this extemporaneous ballet; Pongo dropped
Mademoiselle Zima, and left the study, saying:
“That’s master, he ring for me; he awake, I go tell him that you
waiting.”
A few moments later the mulatto returned, and ushered Georget into
Monsieur Malberg’s bedroom; that gentleman was enveloped in an ample
dressing-gown and held a newspaper, which he seemed to be reading.
He glanced at Georget, who remained bashfully in the doorway of the
room, twisting his cap about in his hands.
“It’s you, is it, young man? What do you want of me so early in the
morning? Is your mother sicker?”
“Oh, no! thanks to heaven and to you, monsieur! But I have come because
I found this twenty francs in the pocket in which monsieur was kind
enough to put some herbs for me to make my mother some tea. It was
another kindness on monsieur’s part, no doubt, but he is too kind; we
must not keep this money, for it would take us too long to return it;
and so I have brought the twenty francs back.”
The gentleman in the dressing-gown resumed the perusal of his newspaper,
as he answered in a crabbed tone:
“I don’t know what you mean; the money is yours, if it was in your
pocket; keep it and let me alone.”
“But, monsieur, I am very sure that that twenty francs isn’t mine, as I
didn’t own a sou to buy sugar, and that was why I was crying on the
landing.”
“Well! what then? how does that concern me?”
“Why, monsieur, as nobody else but you put anything in my pocket, it
must have been you who put these five-franc pieces there.”
“You are dreaming!”
“Oh, no!”
“It wasn’t I!”
“I am sure that it was!”
“Corbleu! you tire me! Well, suppose it was? If I chose to put those
five-franc pieces in your pocket, am I not at liberty to put my money
where I choose? Do you propose to prevent me from helping you, when I
have too much money, and know that you haven’t enough? You are very
proud, it seems, master messenger?”
“Oh! it isn’t that, monsieur; but you have already overwhelmed us with
your kindness; it would be wrong to show our appreciation of it by
accepting what we don’t need.”
“You lie! you do need money, for last night you were without a sou, and
I don’t suppose that you have earned any during the night.”
“But, monsieur, my mother has all she needs now, and I am going to earn
some money to-day.”
“Oho! you are very confident, aren’t you? How do you know that you will
find work to-day, that it will be a good day for you?”
“Why! monsieur, it very seldom happens that a whole day passes without
someone employing us; a man would have to be very unlucky to have that
happen.”
“And you think that you are in no danger of such bad luck? Well, tell me
how you expect to earn money for your mother?”
“By doing errands, monsieur, as that is my business.”
“And how much do you get for an errand usually?”
“Why, that depends, monsieur, on how far I have to go; and then some
people are more generous than others.”
“But about how much?”
“Twelve sous, fifteen sous, sometimes twenty sous; but that’s not often,
unless we carry bundles.”
“And you take without a murmur whatever anyone chooses to give you?”
“To be sure, monsieur, as it’s the pay for our work.”
“Well, Monsieur Georget, I take you for my messenger from to-day; and
it’s my pleasure to pay you two francs for every errand that you do for
me.”
“Oh! that is too much, monsieur; no one ever pays as much as that.”
“If it suits me to pay that price, do you propose to prevent me from
being more generous than other people?--You understand then, the twenty
francs that you have received is a payment in advance on account of the
errands you may do for me.”
“Yes, monsieur; then it’s for ten errands.”
“Exactly, for ten errands.”
“But there’s the sugar too.”
“Confound it! now it’s the sugar! well, call it one errand more.”
“Monsieur is mistaken; it was at least nine pounds of sugar, and that
makes--that makes--I don’t know just the price of sugar.”
“Nor I; say no more about it, and don’t bother me with all these
trifles!”
“And the charcoal, monsieur?”
“This little fellow has evidently made a vow to drive me mad! Call it as
many errands as you choose, and let me alone.”
“I will call it fifteen, monsieur, but I am very sorry that I have
offended monsieur, who is so very kind, and I will go, monsieur, I will
go!”
And Georget had already reached the door, when Monsieur Malberg called
him back.
“Listen, my boy, as you seem in such a hurry to pay your debt to me, I
will employ you at once.”
“Oh! so much the better, monsieur, so much the better!”
“Listen: there is somewhere or other in the world a person whom I lost
sight of almost--almost nineteen years ago, and whom I am very desirous
to find. At that time, the gentleman in question, for it is a gentleman
that I am talking about, was some thirty-three or thirty-four years of
age; he was tall, with a good figure, and was rather a handsome man.
Moreover, he was a dandy, a man of fashion, and always dressed with much
elegance; but as that was nineteen years ago, his appearance may have
changed greatly! However, the man’s name is Monsieur de Roncherolle.”
“Very good, monsieur; and where did this handsome Monsieur de--de----”
“Roncherolle.”
“Roncherolle live? Oh! I shall not forget the name again.”
“He lived--but what good will it do you to know where he lived then, as
at that time he suddenly left his lodgings in Paris, and left France, I
imagine?”
“Still, he might have returned to his lodgings since.”
“Do you suppose that I haven’t been there a hundred times to inquire?
No, he has never come back to the place where he used to live; but he
did come back to Paris ten years ago, I am certain of that; but I was
travelling then, and we never met. When I returned, he had gone away
again; but, if I can believe certain reports, certain indications, he
returned to Paris some time ago, and is living--in what quarter of the
city? I have no idea. You see that the errand that I give you is a
difficult one. For a very long time, I, myself, have been looking for
that gentleman, but have failed to find him. If you succeed in
discovering him, why, then I shall look upon myself as your debtor, and
shall find a way to prove my gratitude to you!”
“Monsieur is jesting! he forgets that he has already paid me in advance
for fifteen errands. But if only this Monsieur de Roncherolle has not
changed his name--for in that case it would be very difficult to find
him!”
“He will not have changed his name, for he belongs to an old family, and
was very proud of it.”
“Did he do anything?”
“Nothing except use up his fortune as slowly as possible; and in all
this time he must have gone to the end of it. However, he has probably
retained his youthful habits: it is in the Chaussée d’Antin quarter, at
the close of the Opéra, or of the Théâtre des Italiens, or in front of
the best restaurants in Paris, that you are likely to find him, that
chance may lead to his being called by name in your presence; for you do
not know him, my poor boy, you have no description of him, and I can
supply you with no other means of identifying him. So I fancy that I am
giving you a commission impossible to execute!”
“Why so, monsieur? We hear so many things, we messengers! We go about in
all sorts of places; we see the whole of Paris, and I will bet that I
discover him, and in that case I will come instantly and report what I
have learned.”
“That goes without saying.”
“But this commission will not prevent monsieur from giving me others;
and if he has any letters to deliver----”
“Yes, yes; very well; now go.”
Georget left the bedroom; in the reception room he found Pongo in a
serious dispute with Mademoiselle Zima, who had fallen twice to the
floor and refused to rise without assistance. But Georget had no time to
stop; he was in too great a hurry to tell his mother of his interview
with the gentleman on the third floor. He lost no time in doing so, as
soon as he was with the excellent woman; and he tossed the four
five-franc pieces on the bed, exclaiming:
“They are really ours now, for that gentleman absolutely insisted on
paying me in advance. So we are rich! You shall have everything you
want; besides, I am going to earn money too. Good-by, mother; stay in
bed, and take care of yourself.”
“Why, Georget, you go off in such a hurry; you must take one of these
pieces at least; for you must live too.”
“No, mother, I don’t mean to touch that money; I mean to earn some first
of all, and not eat my breakfast until I have worked.”
“Georget, that’s nonsense! Will you listen to me?”
But the young messenger was not listening; he was already at the foot of
the stairs, and in front of the concierge’s lodge, where he found Madame
Baudoin, alone, still gazing with an air of deep affliction at the marks
of the brandy on the floor.
Georget’s first thought was to go to the Boulevard du Château d’Eau,
where he was very certain to find Violette, for the flower girl was
always there, even when it was not a market day. That was the advantage
of her branch of business; hand bouquets are of all times, and there are
some flowers in all seasons; which is very fortunate for lovers, who
give them all the year around, and for the ladies, who would like to
receive them all their lives.
VIII
THE BLUE PHIAL
Violette was seated behind her counter, making bouquets; she had a
peculiar knack at blending colors, and giving its full effect to the
simplest flower; her bouquets were tasteful, even when they were made up
of modest flowers only; there was taste and charm in their arrangement;
her art was apparent in every one. There are people who spoil whatever
they touch, and others who can make something out of nothing.
Georget stopped a few feet away from the flower girl, and looked at her;
but she was so busy over her bouquets that she did not see him, or at
least did not seem to see him; so he decided to accost her.
“Good-morning, Mamzelle Violette.”
“Ah! is it you, Monsieur Georget?”
“Yes, it’s me; I have been here some time already, within a few feet of
you, looking at you; but you didn’t deign to glance in my direction.”
“I didn’t deign! what does that mean? Do you think that I wouldn’t have
said good-morning to you if I had seen you? Do you accuse me of being
impolite now?”
“Oh, no! that isn’t what I mean, mamzelle; but sometimes, when one
doesn’t care to talk with a person----”
“Are you going to begin that again, Georget? If I didn’t want to talk
with you, what compels me to? I believe that I am my own mistress--alas!
only too much my own mistress, as I don’t know my parents, and my last
protectress, Mère Gazon, is lying yonder in the cemetery.”
“Well, now you are sad! I tell you, Mamzelle Violette, I was terribly
sad last night too, for my mother was sick, and we were short of money.”
“Why didn’t you tell me so, Georget? I would have lent you money. You
know very well that I have some, that I sell as much as I want to sell,
and that it wouldn’t have troubled me at all.”
“Oh! upon my word! Borrow money of you, of you, mademoiselle! never!”
“What! never? what does this mean? Why not of me as well as of anybody
else? Don’t you look upon me as your friend, or do you think me a
hard-hearted creature, who would not take pleasure in obliging you?”
“Oh, no! no! it isn’t that! on the contrary I know very well that you
are kind-hearted, that you love to do good; I have often seen you give
money to unfortunate people! But it isn’t that; it is--mon Dieu! I don’t
know how to express it; it is that I should be ashamed, I should blush
to----”
“Well, well! you are getting all mixed up. I go straight to the point:
Georget, do you want money? I have some here,--fifteen francs,
twenty-five francs; it won’t embarrass me in the least.”
“Thanks, thanks, mamzelle; I am very grateful; but now it isn’t as it
was last night; our position has changed, and we are in funds.”
“Is that really true? how does it happen that in so short a
time--Georget, if you are deceiving me, it is very wrong; you have no
money!”
To prove to the flower girl that he was not deceiving her, the messenger
told her all that had happened since the evening before. Violette
listened with the deepest interest, and her eyes filled with tears at
the story of Monsieur Malberg’s kindness.
“Ah! that gentleman is a fine man!” cried the girl, almost leaping from
her chair. “Suppose I should carry him a bouquet from you; would that
please him?”
“Oh, no! On the contrary it would make him angry; he doesn’t like to be
thanked; I am sure that he would be angry with me, if he knew that I had
told you how kind he was.”
“That’s a pity; I would like to know him. Does he ever walk in this
direction on market day?”
“No, I have never seen him here. He’s a man who doesn’t like society,
nor noise; and when you don’t know him, why, he hasn’t an agreeable
manner, I tell you!”
“But when one knows that he is kind and generous, then one ought not to
be frightened by his manner.”
“No matter, I assure you, mamzelle, that in his presence no one dares to
laugh.”
“Speaking of laughing, Monsieur Georget, I am going to scold you now.”
“Scold me?”
“Yes indeed. Oh! it’s of no use for you to assume your innocent air, I
was not fooled by what happened yesterday afternoon. The idea of
throwing my customers down! that’s very pretty, isn’t it? If you should
do that often, I don’t think that I should sell so many bouquets.”
“But I didn’t throw anybody down!”
“No, not you, but that good-for-nothing Chicotin, who had planned the
thing beforehand with you, because he knew that it would please you. Am
I right? Come, Georget, answer me--didn’t you plan with Chicotin to
throw that gentleman down?”
“Not that one, mamzelle, I haven’t any grudge against that one; it was
the other one; Chicotin made a mistake.”
“One or the other, it was very wrong, monsieur, to run against my
customers and overturn almost the whole of my shop.”
“But I tell you that Chicotin made a mistake.”
“And I tell you that if either you or he ever do that sort of thing
again, that will be the end, and I will not speak to you any more.”
“Oh! never fear, mademoiselle, we shan’t do it again; not I, that is,
for I can’t answer for others.”
“The others only do what you want.”
“Not speak to you any more? would that be possible? In the first place,
I should keep on speaking to you!”
“But I wouldn’t answer you.”
“Then you would mean to kill me with grief?”
“Nonsense, people don’t die for that sort of thing!”
“Oh, you think so, because you don’t feel what I do, here in the bottom
of my heart.”
“Georget, I thought that you intended to work hard to-day?”
“Ah! so I do, you are right.--By the way, mamzelle, you don’t happen to
know a gentleman named De Roncherolle, do you?”
“No, I don’t know him.”
“True, this isn’t the quarter where I can expect to find him; I must go
to Boulevard des Italiens, to the Chaussée d’Antin; that’s a pity, for
it’s a long way from you.”
“Do you mean that you don’t expect to do errands except in the
neighborhood of the Château d’Eau?”
“Why! of course I know that that isn’t possible; but I hate so to go
away from you.”
“Really, Georget, you make me want to laugh; you are not old enough yet
to be in love, it isn’t so very long since I used to see you playing
marbles with urchins of your age!”
“Oh! upon my word! it’s a long, long time since I stopped playing
marbles; why, that’s a game for children.”