Monsieur Archibald, he points me out to several gentlemen standing near,
and I have no doubt that he is saying to them: 'Do you know that man?'
and they all say _no_."
"Oh! mon Dieu! you make me shudder, monsieur!"
"Look out for me when the waltz comes to an end--and I fancy that will
be soon."
"But I don't want them to turn you out. You waltz so well--really, it
would be a great pity."
"You are too kind, madame; however, if I am not taken under somebody's
protection, it looks as if the affair would turn out badly for me."
"Mon Dieu! if only Frederique were here! she would get you out of the
scrape on the instant, I know."
"What! a lady named _Frederic_?"
"Yes, monsieur--Frederi--que."
"Ah! I understand, the feminine of Frederic. And this lady?"
"She expected to come to Anna's wedding; she promised me she would; but
she hasn't come."
"They are quickening the pace; a few turns more, and I shall be
ignominiously expelled! What I shall regret most of all, madame, is
you--who have been so indulgent to me, and whom it is impossible to see
for an instant without ardently desiring to see you again."
"Oh! monsieur----"
"However, if Monsieur Archibald is discourteous, if he doesn't choose to
accept a proper apology, I promise you that I will show him that he
hasn't a dastard to deal with."
"Oh! don't talk like that! you make me tremble. If I should see my
husband, I----"
My pretty partner did not finish her sentence; the music stopped, the
waltz was at an end. But, almost instantly, my partner uttered a joyful
exclamation and dragged me toward the outer door of the ballroom, saying
in an undertone:
"Come, come; you are saved; here is Frederique!"
XI
MADAME FREDERIQUE
I have no need to say whether I allowed myself to be guided by my pretty
brunette. We forced our way through the crowd, at the expense of a
number of feet which came in our way; my partner held my hand, and I
pressed the protecting hand with which she held it, so that it could not
escape me.
We reached the door of the ballroom just as a lady, newly arrived, was
coming in. My conductress rushed to meet her, dragged her into a small
room set apart for those who wished to converse, and, still without
releasing my hand, led her into a window recess, apart from everybody,
and said to her, laying her hand on her arm:
"Frederique, you have arrived in the nick of time to confer a great
favor on monsieur, and on myself, who--who take an interest in
monsieur."
"What must I do? Tell me, my dear Armantine. I am all ready."
"Listen: you know monsieur, you invited him to come to the wedding,
where he was to ask for you; but as you had not arrived when he came, he
didn't know to whom to apply. Now that you are here, you must introduce
him. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly! it's the simplest thing in the world! Take my hand,
monsieur, if you please; for, as I am to present you, you must be my
escort, for a few moments at least."
"With great pleasure, madame!"
"How lucky it is that I came without an escort, and that my husband has
catarrh! It's a true saying that good fortunes never come singly."
"You will condescend, then, madame, to----"
"Why, it's all arranged; I am delighted to do anything to oblige
Armantine. By the way, your name, monsieur, if you please; for, if I am
to present you, I must call you by name."
"Charles Rochebrune."
"Very good! An advocate, I suppose? All the young men are advocates."
"I am not in practice; but I studied for the bar."
"That is quite enough. Now, let us go into the ballroom."
My new acquaintance passed her arm through mine and leaned on it as if
we had known each other for years. I felt altogether reassured; I walked
with my head erect, my face had recovered its serenity, and I was no
longer afraid to look about me.
My partner left us as we entered the ballroom, and the lady on my arm
asked me in an undertone:
"Do you know my name?"
"I know only that one by which she called you just now."
"I am Madame Dauberny, eight years married; I am twenty-seven years old,
and my husband forty-four; he is wealthy and has no business. He doesn't
care for society, balls, etc., but I go about without him. I was born
at Bordeaux, and my parents were of the same province. I think that you
are well enough posted now, in case anyone should talk to you about me."
"Yes, madame; thanks a thousand times!"
What I especially admired was the ease and fluency with which my
companion said all this to me as we walked through the crowd; I am
certain that no one who saw her talking to me would have suspected that
she had never seen me until that evening. But Monsieur Guillardin and
the bride came forward to meet my protectress, and I saw the stout
Archibald too, walking behind his sister, and continuing to scrutinize
me closely while he saluted Madame Dauberny.
"How late you are!" cried the bride, taking my companion's hand.
"We were in despair!" said the venerable proboscis; "it is half-past
twelve, and we were just saying that Madame Dauberny would not come,
although she had promised to."
"And here I am, you see. I never break my promises. Ah! that makes
Monsieur Archibald laugh; however, it is quite true, monsieur."
"I was laughing with pleasure at seeing you, madame."
"You are too polite, monsieur. But I am the more culpable for being so
late, because I have caused sad embarrassment to an unfortunate young
man to whom I had said that I would be here at eleven, and that he need
only ask for me and I would present him. I refer to monsieur, who has
been looking for me here nearly an hour, so he tells me; and, failing to
find me, he didn't know to whom to appeal. Allow me to introduce
Monsieur Charles Rochebrune, a distinguished advocate--and a mighty
dancer. I thought that you would readily welcome a friend of my
childhood."
At that, I made a profound bow to the bride and her father, and to the
hulking Archibald, who condescended to smile upon me, while Monsieur
Guillardin exclaimed:
"All friends of yours are welcome, fair lady! I trust that you do not
doubt it. But I have already had the pleasure of making the acquaintance
of monsieur, who appreciates my snuff. But I confess that I didn't know
with whom I was talking, and I was just about to ask him, when he left
me, to go and waltz. If he had told us that he came at your invitation,
that would have been enough to ensure him a hearty welcome."
"You are too kind, Monsieur Guillardin, but Monsieur Rochebrune is quite
as well pleased to have me here;--are you not, monsieur?"
"Yes, madame," I replied, with an expression that made Madame Dauberny
smile; and it seemed to me that that smile caused Monsieur Archibald to
make a wry face.
"But where is Monsieur Dablemar? I don't see him anywhere."
Madame Dauberny had hardly asked the question, when a short man, dressed
in good taste, but very slight and with an affected manner, came running
toward us, crying:
"Ah! here she is at last, the one person we longed so to see, and of
whose coming we had despaired! I must dance with you; I engage you for
the next dance--that is to say, if you will deign to grant me that
favor."
"We will see--later. I never dance as soon as I arrive; pray give me
time to look about."
"My poor Anna has had to rest a little while; her brother trod on her
foot; and he did well, too, for it is a good thing for her to rest: she
was dancing too much, she----"
This gentleman, in whom I had no difficulty in discovering the
bridegroom, stopped suddenly when he caught sight of me, evidently for
the first time. My introductress, who had dropped my arm for a moment,
took my hand and said to him:
"Monsieur Charles Rochebrune, a good friend of mine, whom I take the
liberty to present to you."
Monsieur Dablemar bowed to me, as courtesy required. Thus I had been
well and duly introduced to the bride and groom and the bride's kindred;
I was one of the wedding party, and I could walk about fearlessly
through the salons.
Having no longer anything to fear on my own account, my first
pleasurable occupation was to scrutinize at my leisure the woman who had
so gallantly come forward to be my buckler, and who, although she did
not know me, although she had never seen me, had been willing to take my
arm and to present me to a numerous assemblage as a person whom she knew
intimately. I realized that she had done it at the request of a friend,
to whom, as well as to me, she undoubtedly thought that she was doing an
important service; but, none the less, there was a flavor of audacity in
the performance that pleased and charmed me. Was it devoted friendship?
was it recklessness of disposition? was it eccentricity, originality? I
had no idea as yet, but I was deeply indebted to the lady, for she had
extricated me from a bad scrape.
In the first few moments after my introduction, I was too excited, too
preoccupied, to think of examining the person who introduced me; all
that I could say was that, at first glance, she seemed to have a very
becoming air of originality. Now that my embarrassment had vanished, and
Madame Dauberny was talking with the bride, I could venture to examine
her.
The person whom my pretty partner had called Frederique was rather above
middle height, rather slender than stout, but exceedingly well formed,
with a something brusque and cavalierish in her gait and her carriage
which was wonderfully becoming to her; her foot, while not remarkably
small, was well formed; she carried her head erect, and slightly thrown
back, and often rested one hand on her hip, like a man.
Madame Dauberny was not precisely a pretty woman; indeed, one might have
passed her without noticing her; but the more you looked at her, feature
by feature, her charm inevitably grew upon you; for there was a great
deal of expression in her very mobile countenance. She was a brunette in
the fullest acceptation of the term; her hair was of such an intense
black that it was almost blue; this is not a witticism; extremely black
and glossy hair sometimes has a bluish tinge; but such hair is rarely
seen.
Her eyes were very dark blue, well shaped, and with abundant lashes; she
fixed them uncompromisingly upon the person with whom she was talking,
and they seemed to defy you to make them look down or humble themselves
before anyone on earth. They denoted a woman of strong character, an
energetic woman. Shall I say, a passionate woman? I think that I should
err: strong natures are able to hold their passions in check, instead of
allowing themselves to be dominated by them, like---- But I must finish
my portrait. Gracefully arched, heavy eyebrows--but not too
heavy--surmounted those expressive eyes; the nose was a little large,
but straight, and the nostrils, slightly dilated, opened but little more
when she smiled. She had a large mouth, and her lips were rather thin;
but the teeth were very white and regular. That mouth was well adapted
to raillery and persiflage; and it was most eloquent in expressing
contempt and anger.
Madame Dauberny was naturally pale, and even by candle light her skin
was not white. She had an oval chin and a high forehead. So much for her
features; but all these details give a very insufficient idea of the
general effect of that unusual face. It was necessary to see her in
order to understand her; in the short time that I spent in examining
her, her face changed entirely three or four times.
There was one thing that pleased me greatly, and that was her accent, in
which there was a faint suggestion of the _Midi_, which, to my mind, is
fascinating in a woman. She had a well-modulated voice, like almost all
those who are born on the banks of the Garonne; it was not soft, but the
accent deprived it of anything like harshness. And then, it reminded me
of a fascinating Bordelaise, whom I had loved dearly, and known such a
short time! On the whole, I was decidedly flattered to be considered
Madame Dauberny's friend. But that did not cause me to forget my
agreeable partner, to whom also I was deeply indebted. I was anxious to
learn something concerning the pretty brunette. I tried to make up my
mind to ask her friend Frederique about her.
At that moment, she came toward me and whispered as she took my arm:
"Will you be my escort once more?"
"Ah, madame! I am too happy that you deign to accept me as such."
"Let us make a few turns about the room, and I will finish my task of
giving you such information as you need concerning the company; then you
will be free to return to Armantine."
"Armantine? Oh, yes! that is the lady who spoke to you in my behalf?"
"To be sure. You know her, do you not?"
"Not at all. I never saw her before; but I had danced a quadrille and
waltzed with her."
"Well! this is a little strong! And what was the source of her deep
interest in you?"
"The fact that I had told her of a mad prank I had just committed; of
which I will tell you as well, with your permission."
"I not only permit it, but I insist upon it; for, after all, it is well
that I should know something about the friend of my childhood."
I told Madame Dauberny the story that I had previously told her friend.
She listened attentively, without moving an eyebrow. Her impassiveness
frightened me. But when I had finished, she shook her head and smiled
slightly, murmuring:
"It was a little _risque_! So your friend is at the other ball?"
"Yes, madame."
"And your friend's name is----?"
"Balloquet."
"What does he do?"
"He is a doctor."
"There's no great crime in all this, provided that you really are, as
you say, an honorable man."
"Ah, madame!--this suspicion----"
"Is fully justified, it seems to me; for, after all, monsieur, you may
be a very bad character, one of those young men who cannot be received
in good society. You may have said to yourself: 'I'll go and have a
little sport at the expense of all those people!'--What would there be
surprising in that? Oh! what a face you are making! Be careful, or
people will think that I am making a scene; and when a woman makes a
scene with a man, it means that she has some claim upon him. You must
see that your long face is compromising to me."
I was horribly vexed; certainly she had a right to suspect me; but the
mocking tone she had assumed, her manner, which denoted anything but
conviction, and the expression of her face, augmented my chagrin, and I
did not know what to say. How could I prove to her that I had not lied?
At that moment, a man of some forty years, stylishly dressed, and not
ill-looking, but with a vague and shifty look in his eyes, stopped in
front of us and paid a compliment or two to the incredulous Frederique.
I glanced at the new-comer, whose face was not unfamiliar; he caught my
eye and bowed to me very affably. I cannot describe the thrill of
pleasure which that bow afforded me, although I did not know who had
bestowed it upon me.
"Ah! do you know Monsieur Rochebrune?" Madame Dauberny inquired.
"Yes, madame, I have met monsieur several times in company, notably at
General Traunitz's and at Madame de Saint-Albert's receptions."
"True," said I, searching my memory; "I remember very well having had
the pleasure of meeting monsieur at those receptions."
"To tell the truth," rejoined Madame Dauberny, "I should have been
surprised if Monsieur Sordeville had not known you, knowing all Paris as
he does, and all that everyone is doing, all that takes place!"
"Oh, madame! you accredit me with much more knowledge than I possess,"
replied Monsieur Sordeville, smiling with what he intended for an
affable expression, which accorded ill with the natural character of his
face. "You are very late, madame; Armantine was distressed at your
non-appearance; which, however, did not prevent her dancing. But
Monsieur Rochebrune can tell you that, for I saw him waltzing with my
wife, and very well, too, I assure you."
"What, monsieur! was it your wife with whom I had the pleasure of
waltzing?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Why, what extraordinary mortals you are!" cried Madame Dauberny,
looking from one to the other, with an ironical expression. "You know
each other, and yet monsieur does not know that it was Madame Sordeville
with whom he waltzed?"
"What is there so surprising in that, madame? I have met Monsieur
Rochebrune at parties to which my wife did not accompany me; that
happens every day. Because one is married is no reason why one should
not go out sometimes without his or her spouse; and I may say that you
yourself are proving the truth of that statement this very evening."
Monsieur Sordeville said this in a meaning tone. Now that I knew that he
was my charming partner's husband, I examined him more closely. He was
very good-looking; his features were regular, and he had rather a
distinguished face; but I was not attracted by it.
Meanwhile, Madame Dauberny had not remained passive under the little
shaft Monsieur Sordeville had let fly at her; but I did not hear her
rejoinder, because my pretty partner came up and took her husband's arm
just as her friend was speaking to him.
"My dear Armantine," said my patroness, "you do not know, do you, that
your husband is acquainted with Monsieur Rochebrune, whom I took the
liberty of bringing to this festivity? He's a terrible man, is your
husband; if I had undertaken to introduce anyone here under a false
name, he would certainly have discovered the whole intrigue."
The pretty brunette smiled and blushed slightly; then she put her arm
through her friend's and led her away, but not before I had whispered in
Madame Dauberny's ear:
"Well! are you convinced now that I did not lie to you?"
"I never thought that you were lying," she replied, squeezing my hand as
a man would do.
Monsieur Sordeville remained with me. He seemed inclined to continue the
conversation, and I asked nothing better than to become more fully
acquainted with the husband of a lady who pleased me exceedingly. For if
he had a face which did not attract me, I was at liberty to think of his
wife while I was talking with him.
"She is an extremely agreeable person--Madame Dauberny!" Monsieur
Sordeville began.
"Yes, she is very agreeable; she seems to have much wit."
"Have you never before been in a position to judge of her wit?"
I bit my lips; I had said a stupid thing; but I hastened to add, in an
off-hand tone:
"What I meant to say was that she has even more wit than she allows to
appear on the surface."
"Ah! do you think so? I must say that it seems to me that she doesn't
hide what wit she has."
I saw that I should have difficulty in extricating myself; when one has
strayed into a bad road, it's the devil and all to get back to solid
ground. And then, too, that Monsieur Sordeville had an embarrassing way
of making one talk. The bride's brother happened to be passing us at
that moment. He stopped and said to Monsieur Sordeville:
"Of whom are you speaking?"
"Madame Dauberny."
"Madame Dauberny! Oh! she's a _gaillarde_, she is!"
Monsieur Sordeville raised his eyebrows slightly as he replied:
"Hum! that word is a little strong!"
"Why so? I mean by _gaillarde_ a decided character, which never bends,
and does nothing except in accordance with its own desires; which takes
its stand above a multitude of everyday prejudices, and snaps its
fingers at what people will say. Indeed, Madame Frederique--she prefers
to be called that, you know, for she detests her husband's name--Madame
Frederique, I say, makes no bones of declaring that she does only what
she pleases, and that she intends to do everything that she pleases.
When a woman says that, I should say that one may well call her a
_gaillarde_!"
Monsieur Sordeville smiled, and said simply:
"People say so many things that they don't do! Sometimes, it is to
obtain a reputation for originality."
"And you, monsieur," continued Archibald, turning to me, "you, who are
one of Madame Frederique's early friends, do not you share the opinion
of her which I have just expressed?"
I saw that Monsieur Sordeville was covertly watching me, and I replied,
measuring my words:
"Since I have had the honor of knowing Madame Dauberny, monsieur, I have
always recognized in her the possessor of many invaluable qualities, and
a keen wit, slightly satirical perhaps; as for her faults, I know of
none; but clever people are becoming so scarce that they may well pass
for originals."
My interlocutors held their peace. Monsieur Sordeville shook his head,
and Monsieur Archibald pursed his lips. The orchestra played the prelude
to a quadrille. I determined to perform a noble deed, which would put me
on good terms with the bride's family: I invited Mademoiselle Joliette
to dance.
The ugly child accepted with unbounded delight. While we were dancing, I
saw Madame Dauberny looking at me with a smile that seemed to say:
"That's a very clever thing you are doing."
For my own part, I hoped to reward myself in the next quadrille by
inviting the seductive Armantine.
But while we were executing the final figure, a great uproar suddenly
arose outside the door; people were shouting and quarrelling in the
corridor, and I fancied that I recognized Balloquet's voice. Either he
had not been so fortunate as I, or he had been guilty of some
imprudence. I ran in the direction of the outcry.
XII
THE WEDDING PARTY IN THE REAR ROOM
As I stepped out into the hall which separated the two ballrooms, the
dispute seemed to be growing warmer. I could distinguish Balloquet's
voice perfectly, shouting:
"Once more, messieurs, I tell you it's a mistake, a simple mistake. What
the devil! any man may be mistaken. I mistook one party for the other.
Wedding parties are a good deal alike, as a rule, especially after the
dancing begins. There's not enough harm done to whip a cat for."
The waiters did their utmost to restore peace, testifying that Balloquet
had dined upstairs with some most respectable gentlemen.
I succeeded in forcing my way through the crowd. I saw a number of
grotesque faces, which would not have been out of place in the
_Charivari's_ caricatures. Most of the men had retained beneath their
gala dress the vulgur or stupid air which the finest coat cannot
conceal. They were all very hot against poor Balloquet, who was as red
as a cherry and gesticulating in the midst of them like one possessed. A
stout man of some fifty years, whose eyes looked as if they were made of
glass, they were so expressionless and so protruding, held him by the
arm and kept repeating:
"You don't get off like this, _bigre_! You either belong here or you
don't, that's all! Proofs! proofs! I want proofs!"
A tall, fair-haired young man, with a weak, stupid face, and hair
brushed flat over his forehead almost to his eyebrows, seemed to be
threatening Balloquet, as he said:
"And what did you do to my wife? tell me that! Did you or didn't you?
Petronille ain't capable of lying about it. She told me you pinched her!
That's a pretty way to do--pinch the bride, when you don't belong in the
party! If you'd been invited to the wedding--but that wouldn't be any
excuse."
"I was dancing, monsieur le marie; my hand may have gone astray. If I
did pinch her anywhere, I thought it was part of the figure, and----"
"Oh! that's a good one! that don't seem reasonable!"
"But, monsieur, you don't understand."
"You don't get off like that, _bigre_!" cried the fat man with the
glassy eyes; "proofs! proofs! proofs!"
At that moment, to add to the uproar, a corpulent dame of at least sixty
years of age, with a flat nose, smeared with snuff, her face encircled
by a flaxen false front, the curls of which, artistically grouped in
terraces, made her look as if she wore whiskers, and overladen with
flowers, ribbons, lace, and false jewelry, appeared in the midst of the
men, crying in a shrill voice:
"I don't want Pamphile to fight! I forbid him to fight! What's it all
about? You shan't fight, Pamphile--I'd sooner fight myself, in my son's
place. O my son, I'm your mother, or I ain't your mother! Monsieur's an
intruder, a villain, a blackguard. Throw him out of doors! Call the
watch!"
"No, madame, I am not a villain," retorted Balloquet, glaring savagely
at the old woman, who was bedizened like a circus horse; "and I'll prove
it."
"Go back to the ballroom, Madame Girie; this is no place for you; we
don't need a woman's help to settle this business."
"I tell you, I don't want my son to fight!--Come, Pamphile, come back
with me; don't get mixed up in this row."
"Oh! do let me alone, mamma! Go back with the other ladies."