him or pays any attention to him. It seemed to me that I had taken the
best possible means to become acquainted with my surroundings.
After the first figure, I began by examining my partner, whom I had
chosen at random, so to speak.
Chance had served me well. My partner was a very pretty brunette; her
great blue eyes were at once tender and intelligent, and I deemed them
to be capable of saying many things when they chose to take the trouble.
A slightly aquiline nose, an attractive mouth, beautiful teeth, which
she showed often because she laughed readily, black hair falling in long
curls over her neck, a mode of dressing the hair which I have always
liked--all these details formed a very seductive whole, and that is what
I found in my partner, who was light of foot, slender, with a shapely
figure, and graceful in every movement.
Then I looked about. By the manners of the women, the costumes of the
men, and the prevalent style of dancing, I saw that I had fallen upon a
fashionable assemblage. There was not the slightest suggestion of the
cancan; but, by way of compensation, there was a distinct odor of
patchouli. I was not sure whether they were enjoying themselves much;
but, at all events, they accepted boredom with infinite grace.
I saw many ugly women; in a large party, it rarely happens that they
are not in the majority. That being so, is it surprising that a pretty
woman makes so many conquests? If nature created more of them, beauty
would receive less adulation; but as it appears only at rare intervals,
it attracts more notice.
However, I saw some good-looking women; others who were rather
attractive; others (and that too is common experience) who had no other
attraction than their youth. But I looked in vain for anyone equal to my
partner.
I concluded to open a conversation with her; if, through her, I could
obtain some information concerning the bride and groom, find out
something as to my hosts, it would be of advantage to me in my
embarrassing position.
"I am very fortunate, madame, to have arrived just in time to find you
unengaged. That must be a very rare occurrence, and chance favored me."
"But you see, monsieur, I am in less demand than you seem to think; you
had only to come forward. Have you just come, monsieur? I don't remember
seeing you before."
"Yes, madame, yes; I have not been here long."
"What do you think of the bride? Very pretty, is she not?"
I cast my eyes about me with an embarrassed air; I saw nobody who looked
like a bride. My partner, who noticed my hesitation no doubt, continued:
"Can it be that you haven't seen her yet?"
"Faith! I have not, madame; I have just come, and I have had no time yet
to look for her."
"Look! there she is over yonder, by the orchestra."
I saw a young woman in the conventional costume, with white bouquet and
orange blossoms.
"Do you see her?"
"Yes, madame. But why is she not dancing?"
"Because that great lout of an Archibald trod on her foot just now, and
nearly crushed it. What an awkward creature he is! Anna is obliged to
rest through at least two quadrilles."
I had learned that the bride's name was Anna. That was something.
"Poor Adolphe was in despair. He wanted to fight Monsieur Archibald."
Adolphe--that must be the groom's name.
"I can well understand that," I hastened to reply. "If I had been in
Adolphe's place, I would have been furious, too; for, you know, on the
wedding day----"
"He's so fond of his cousin! But, after all, he could hardly pick a
quarrel with the bride's brother."
The deuce! I was on the point of putting my foot in it.
Cousin--brother--I didn't know where I was. So Adolphe was not the
groom. I was treading on very slippery ground, and had to look carefully
to my steps.
My partner, who was fond of talking, soon began again.
"As for Monsieur Dablemar, I fancy that he cares very little about it.
You know the kind of man he is?"
That question embarrassed me sadly. I wondered who Monsieur Dablemar
could be, and I answered, by way of subterfuge:
"Oh! to be sure; Monsieur--Dablemar probably does care very little about
it. That is just what I was thinking, especially, knowing him--as I know
him."
"Are you very intimate with him, monsieur?"
"Very intimate--why, not precisely, madame--but enough so--to have
a--decided opinion about him."
"Do you think that he will make her happy, monsieur?"
"Whom, madame?"
My pretty partner stared at me in amazement as she exclaimed:
"What do you say? whom? Why, his wife, our dear Anna!"
So Monsieur Dablemar was the bridegroom; there was no longer any doubt.
"Oh! I beg your pardon, madame," I hastily replied. "I meant to say that
she will be happy, madame, very happy. At least, that is my honest
opinion."
"I love to think that you are not mistaken. I knew Anna at boarding
school; I know that she has an excellent disposition; and a husband must
needs be very uncongenial to induce her ever to complain of her lot. But
still, to speak frankly, the other one was prettier."
Once more I was beyond my depth. Who was this other one of whom she was
speaking? I turned and looked in another direction; but my partner stuck
to the point.
"And yet," she continued, "they say that he did not love her, that he
neglected her sadly. You must have known her, monsieur, being a friend
of Monsieur Dablemar?"
"Known whom, madame?"
This time my partner looked at me in a very singular way; I was
convinced that she believed that she had fallen in with a lunatic. She
simply said, with a smile:
"You are absent-minded, aren't you, monsieur?"
"It should not be possible with you, madame."
This compliment changed the current of my pretty brunette's thoughts,
and fully restored her amiability.--Oh! flattery! It is like
calumny--some trace of it always remains.
"Your gallantry, monsieur, cannot prevent my thinking that you are
absent-minded. Still, you may have reasons for not choosing to answer
the questions I asked you."
"Well, madame, it is true, I have reasons--very strong ones, indeed."
"I understand."
Sapristi! she was very lucky to understand; for my part, I confess that
that conversation made me much more uncomfortable than I had
anticipated; for I was most anxious not to appear a lunatic in the eyes
of that partner of mine, who seemed prettier to me every minute. There
are people who gain by being looked at, at close range; they are not
numerous, but my partner was one of them. And I was terribly afraid that
my incoherent replies would give her a very contemptuous opinion of me.
"There goes Monsieur Archibald," she continued, after a moment, "trying
to crush somebody else's foot; the way he capers about is perfectly
horrible; I will never dance near him."
I did not know where she saw Monsieur Archibald, so I smiled without
raising my eyes.
"Of course, you know the lady he is dancing with at this moment?"
"No, madame, no; I don't know her."
"But you haven't looked in their direction."
"I beg your pardon."
"Ha! ha! ha!"
My partner indulged in a burst of merriment which worried me. When she
had ceased to laugh, she said:
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, pray excuse me; it is very foolish of me to laugh
so."
"Why, madame? laughing is most becoming to you."
"But such a strange idea passed through my head, that I couldn't
possibly keep a serious face."
"If you would tell me your idea--I should be very happy to be taken for
your confidant."
"Oh! I should never dare; for it was you yourself, monsieur, who made me
want to laugh."
"So much the better, madame; I am delighted."
"Look you: for some reason or other, you seem to me to be very much
preoccupied by something."
"Since I have had the pleasure of dancing with you, madame, there would
be nothing surprising in that."
"Oh! monsieur, you are very gallant, I see; but allow me to remark that
your preoccupation has no sort of connection with me!"
"Do you think so, madame?"
"What do you suppose just came into my head?"
"I can't imagine; but if you would deign to tell me----"
"You will think me very childish.--Ha! ha! ha!"
"Well, madame?"
"Well, monsieur, I imagined that you had forgotten your handkerchief!"
I could not help laughing with her. Oho! so I had the aspect of a person
who had forgotten his handkerchief. In truth, a man who is without that
useful article is apt to have an anxious, unhappy look; yes, my partner
had thought of something perfectly consistent with the contortions I
must have been guilty of while she was talking to me. But, to prove to
her that she was mistaken, I drew my handkerchief and blew my nose,
although I had no desire to do so.
My partner made a charming little grimace, and said:
"I trust, monsieur, that you will not bear me a grudge for that jest?"
"Far from it, madame; indeed, it proves to me that you are a skilful
reader of countenances."
"Ah! monsieur, that is very unkind of you!"
"No, madame, for you guessed that I was much preoccupied, and you were
not mistaken; but the cause is much more serious than you supposed."
"Really? And will you tell me what it is?--that is to say, if I am not
impertinent to ask you."
"Oh! I should be very glad to confide it to you; but I dare not."
"Why not, pray?"
"Because I am afraid that you would blame me; and I should be so sorry
to incur your displeasure."
"Make haste; the quadrille is almost over!"
"It is--it isn't an easy thing to tell.--Do you waltz, madame?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"May I have the first waltz?"
"I am engaged."
"Oh! what luck! If you knew, madame, what a position I am in!"
"Would you have told me your secret while we were waltzing?"
"Certainly."
"You will think that women are very inquisitive, but I accept. I was
engaged by a young man whom I don't know; I'll tell him that I made a
mistake and that he may have another one."
"Ah! you are extremely kind, madame!"
The quadrille came to an end, and I escorted my partner to the bench
from which I had taken her. The thing for me to do now was to show a
bold front in the midst of that assemblage. In vain did I look about in
all directions, I did not see a familiar face. The company appeared to
be quite select. It was not one of those wedding parties where the
guests shriek and make a great noise in order to persuade themselves
that they are merry; the men strolled quietly through the rooms, or
chatted with the ladies, without any of the shouts of laughter and
violent gesticulations which sometimes give to a large party the
appearance of a tempestuous sea. The deuce! I found that my presence had
been remarked. I met the eye of a stout young man, who had already
passed me twice and scrutinized me closely. I felt ill at ease; the
self-assurance born of the hearty dinner and the wine I had drunk had
already abandoned me; my conversation with my partner, having aroused a
most ardent desire to form a more intimate acquaintance with that lady,
had instantly dissipated the exhilaration that had led me to commit that
signal folly. I was beginning to reflect now, and it must have given me
an extremely foolish aspect.--Suddenly I saw that a gentleman had
stopped beside me and had taken his snuffbox from his pocket. He had one
of those faces which resemble the turkey rather than the eagle; a face
which might perhaps have been venerable, but for an enormous nose which
covered a great part of it. If I could enter into conversation with him,
it seemed to me that I should cut a less awkward figure.
X
A PINCH OF SNUFF.--A FAMILY TABLEAU
I stepped toward him, and, although I never take snuff, I put out my
hand in the direction of his snuffbox, saying:
"With your permission?"
The gentleman was just closing the box, but he hastened to reopen it,
and said to me with an expression to which he tried to impart much
significance:
"Just try that, and tell me what you think of it."
I saw that he attached great importance to the quality of his snuff.
Indeed, when one has a nose of such dimensions, it is natural enough to
give much thought to the question of snuff. I took an enormous pinch,
and resigned myself to the necessity of inhaling it with all my force.
The snuff caught in my nose and throat and eyes all at once. I choked
and sneezed, but I tried to dissemble my inexperience and to appear well
pleased.
My friend shook his head knowingly, as he asked:
"Well! what do you think of it?"
"Excellent! delicious! I have never taken any so good."
"Parbleu! I believe you. Do you recognize it?"
"No, frankly, I do not. But, perhaps, by trying to--wait a moment."
I did what I could to prolong the conversation, for I was determined not
to part with my interlocutor until the orchestra played the first
measure of the waltz. Unluckily, I was not well posted on the subject of
snuff.
"It's of no use for you to think," continued the man with the snuffbox.
"It's a mixture that I make myself. There's _robillard_ in it, and
Belgian, and caporal."
"Ah! I thought there was some caporal. I recognized that."
"There's very little of it. When I have mixed them in just the right
proportions, I add two or three drops, no more, of _eau de melisse_."
"Ah! that's what it is; I said to myself: 'It seems to me that I
recognize that taste.'"
"The taste is barely perceptible; but it lessens the strength of the
_robillard_, which makes people sick sometimes."
"_Fichtre!_ _robillard_ is quite capable of it, especially on an empty
stomach. I have known people, who--but, after all, it depends on whether
you're used to it."
At that moment, I cut such an idiotic figure in my own eyes that I was
tempted to laugh in my own face. Luckily, I had to do with a party who
seemed to be of about the same calibre.
"Monsieur," he said, as he closed his snuffbox, "this is the result of
protracted study; and yet, I never studied chemistry!"
"You astound me! I would have sworn that you were a chemist, simply on
the strength of your snuff."
"That is what many people have said; but I ought to tell you that I have
taken snuff ever since I was thirteen years of age."
"You are quite capable of it!"
"It was prescribed for a disease of the eyes--which, by the way, it
didn't cure. I tried to make Anna take it for an ear trouble she had at
seven years of age; but I couldn't do it. You can't imagine, monsieur,
all of that child's devices to avoid taking snuff. In the first place,
she used to hide my snuffbox, and more than once she threw it out of the
window; then she filled it with very--unpleasant things; I prefer not to
say what they were, but she spoiled my snuff, and she tried to disgust
me with it. Ah! what a mischievous little witch! Who would believe it
now, eh?"
I made no reply, for his mention of Anna reminded me that my partner had
called the bride by that name. Was I conversing with some near relation
of the newly married pair? The thought disturbed me, and I tried to lead
the conversation back to the snuff. Once more I held out my hand,
saying:
"I wonder if I might venture to ask for another pinch--it's so very
good! And now that I know what it's made of, I shall relish it better."
My gentleman solemnly took his snuffbox from his pocket, and was about
to open it, when a girl of fourteen or fifteen years, and very ugly, ran
up to him, crying:
"Uncle Guillardin, you mustn't forget that you're going to dance with me
first; I want to dance, I do, and I've missed three already."
"Yes, yes, don't worry, Joliette; I'll dance with you, as I promised."
"The next one?"
"Yes, the next one."
"Cousin Archibald invited me twice, too, and then he didn't come to get
me; that was awfully mean of him. I told him I'd complain to you, and he
said: 'Go and polk, and let me alone.' That was all the nastier of him,
because he knows I can't polk."
Monsieur Guillardin--I knew now my snuff taker's name--opened his box
and offered it to me; and paying no further heed to the little girl,
who remained by his side, he said:
"One day, monsieur, when I had persisted longer than usual in trying to
make Anna inhale a few grains, it occurred to her to blow into the box
with all her might just as I handed it to her. You can imagine the
result: the snuff filled my eyes--she had taken the precaution to close
her own; I suffered horribly, and for two whole days I couldn't see. But
after that, I ceased trying to give her snuff--Take a pinch."
I sacrificed myself a second time. I have no idea how I succeeded in
inhaling it, but I know that my eyes smarted and that I felt strongly
inclined to weep.
Mademoiselle Joliette, the inaptly named little girl, who had remained
with us, roared with laughter.
"I should think monsieur was trying to be like you, uncle, when Cousin
Anna blew into the snuffbox," she said.
"What! are you still here, Joliette? Go back to my daughter, for you are
maid of honor, you know, and your station is beside the bride."
But Mademoiselle Joliette began to smile in a singular fashion, which
raised her eyebrows--they were naturally too high--and gave to her face
the effect of a mask. Her eyes were fixed upon me; she apparently had
something to say, and dared not say it; my presence seemed to embarrass
her. For my part, being by that time perfectly sure that the individual
with the huge nose was the bride's father, I deeply regretted having
addressed him, and I looked every minute in the direction of the
orchestra, hoping to see the musicians take their instruments.
Monsieur Guillardin seized the opportunity to fill his own nostrils with
snuff; that operation took some time, for each of them must have held
half an ounce; but suddenly Mademoiselle Joliette threw up her head and
began:
"Well, I don't care, uncle; I'm going to tell you why I am staying here.
It's because Cousin Archibald, who was staring at monsieur, said to me
just now: 'Joliette, go and ask father who that man is that he just gave
a pinch of snuff to, and that he's talking to now. I don't know the man,
and I don't think he's been here long. I want to find out who he is,
because there are sharp fellows who sneak into wedding parties sometimes
when they are not invited, so as to stuff themselves with cakes and
ices. But I don't propose to have any such tricks played on us.'--That's
what my cousin told me to ask you."
Imagine my plight; imagine the figure I cut while that detestable little
Joliette was saying all this. I am certain that I changed color several
times. However, I took the boldest course; I forced myself to laugh, and
to act as if I considered the question extremely amusing. When he saw me
laugh, the venerable gentleman with the huge nose deemed it fitting to
do the same, murmuring:
"Ha! ha! That's a pretty good one! I recognize my son Archibald there.
Oh! he's a hothead. Ha! ha! ha! why, if anyone should presume to join
our party without an invitation, he'd annihilate him; he'd begin by
jumping at his throat, like a bulldog. Ha! ha! it's very amusing! My
dear love, just go and tell him that monsieur is--that monsieur's name
is--that I am talking with----"
Monsieur Guillardin looked at me as he uttered these incomplete
sentences. He was just beginning to realize that he too did not know me,
and he awaited my reply with his nostrils open wider than his eyes.
I cannot describe my sensations; I felt huge drops of perspiration on my
forehead, my mouth was parched. It was not stout Archibald's wrath that
alarmed me; but to be treated as a suspicious character, as an intruder
who had come there to get ices and punch! Ah! that thought drove me mad,
and I realized all the impropriety of my conduct. I would have been glad
to vanish through a trapdoor, like stage demons, and take the risk of
breaking a bone or two in my descent.
At that moment the orchestra gave the signal for the waltz.--O blessed
music! never didst thou seem to me so sweet, so melodious, so alluring!
I bowed to the bride's father, saying:
"I beg your pardon, but I am engaged for this dance."
And I fled toward the pretty brunette, who was my last hope, my anchor
of safety. Probably my face betrayed a part of the torment and anguish
that I had just experienced, for the lady rose quickly and put her arm
about me. We began to waltz, and she at once opened the conversation.
"What in heaven's name is the matter, monsieur? you seem much less
cheerful than you were--and that secret that you were to confide to
me----"
"Oh! I am going to tell you everything, madame; I shall be too happy if
you deign to be indulgent to me, and to understand that this is only an
escapade, reprehensible no doubt, but undeserving of---- Mon Dieu! I
don't know what I am saying."
"Speak, I beg you; explain yourself."
"Of course--I believe I am treading on your foot now."
"That's of no consequence."
"First of all, madame, I must tell you that my name is Charles
Rochebrune, that I was born in Paris, of respectable parents; I can
easily prove what I assert."
"Great heaven! do you take me for an examining magistrate? Why do you
tell me all this?"
"So that you may know that I am not a mere vagrant. I had some fortune
once, and I still have about eight thousand francs a year."
"Does this mean that you desire to marry me, monsieur? It is my duty to
warn you that I am married."
"No, madame, no; I don't say all this as a prelude to asking your hand;
but so that you may know that I am not a nobody, a vagabond."
"Oh! I assure you, monsieur, that you haven't the look of one."
"True; but looks are so deceitful that sometimes---- Mon Dieu! now I am
out of step."
"Never mind; pray finish."
"Very well! understand, then, madame, that I dined at this restaurant
to-day with a number of other persons, all men. The dinner was given by
Dupreval, a solicitor, who is about to marry. We celebrated his farewell
to bachelorhood and drank to his approaching marriage; which is
equivalent to telling you, madame, that the champagne was not spared.
The dinner was prolonged to a late hour; we heard the music of this ball
and of the one in the rear--for there's another wedding party there."
"I know it, monsieur. Well?"
"We were just going away, another young man and myself, who were the
last to leave our dining-room, when the music, the delicious waltz they
were playing, gave birth to the most insane idea."
"Ah! I believe I can guess."
"A little enlivened by the champagne, seduced by the melodious music--in
short, madame, Balloquet said to me--Balloquet is my friend's name:
'Let's join the festivities, although we are not invited. Do you go to
one, and I'll go to the other. If anybody notices our intrusion, if we
are questioned, we'll say that we have made a mistake in the party.'--I
allowed myself to be led away by Balloquet's reasoning; he went into the
other ballroom, and I--I came here."
Instead of being indignant, as I feared, my partner burst into a hearty
laugh, which the music hardly sufficed to drown. I allowed her to laugh
freely for several seconds, then I continued:
"So you forgive me, madame?"
"Oh! absolutely, monsieur. What you have done doesn't seem to be very
criminal. It's a little audacious, perhaps, but so amusing!"
"But, madame, it is most essential now that somebody should act as my
sponsor; for the bride's brother, Monsieur Archibald, has noticed me;
and just now, while I was conversing, unwittingly, with an immense nose,
which proves to belong to the bride's father----"
"Monsieur Guillardin?"
"Even so. Well, as I was saying, a young person, instructed by this
corpulent Monsieur Archibald, came and asked Monsieur Guillardin who I
was. It seems that Monsieur Archibald is not always affable, and that he
would probably take this pleasantry of mine badly. As for myself,
madame, I realize that I have done wrong, that I have been guilty of a
reckless piece of folly; but if this Monsieur Archibald tells me so in
unseemly language, I swear that I am not of a temper to put up with it."
My pretty brunette had ceased to laugh.
"In truth," she murmured, "Anna's brother is the sort of fellow who
doesn't understand practical jokes. He's a fool, and, being a fool, he
is exceedingly sensitive; he loses his temper and quarrels over an idle
word. He is very strong, it seems, and that gives him much
self-assurance."
"It matters little to me how strong he is! I am no boxer, myself, and I
don't fight as street porters do."
"Mon Dieu! what is to be done?"
"If you would condescend, madame, to be kind enough to say that I am an
acquaintance of yours, that you invited me to come here--in a word, if
you would present me?"
"I would ask nothing better if I were alone here; but my husband is with
me, and he knows everything and sees everything; he's worse than the
_Solitaire_. He would ask me instantly where I met you."