Mon Dieu! what a terrible thing! In the first place, Petronille had no
business to tell you of it. God! if the late Girie had fought every time
anyone pinched me! But I didn't tell him! I took good care not to
complain! I was too fond of my husband to do that; and he--oh! he loved
his lovely blonde! You ought to hand monsieur over to the watch.--Watch!
watch!"
Madame Girie persisted in shrieking: "Watch!" waving her arms, striking
everybody within reach, and increasing the confusion immeasurably by
trying to restore peace.
It was at that moment that I succeeded in reaching Balloquet's side, and
released him from the man with the glassy eyes.
"What's all this, messieurs?" I exclaimed.--"What has happened to you,
my dear Balloquet? Why are all these people so incensed with you?"
Balloquet uttered a cry of joy at sight of me, and cast a haughty glance
at his adversaries, saying:
"You see that I didn't lie to you, messieurs; here's my friend, who is a
guest at the other wedding and has come in search of me.--Isn't it true,
Rochebrune, that you have come to fetch me, and that I am Arthur
Balloquet, medical practitioner, and that I am not the sort of man to be
turned out of doors?"
"Proofs! proofs! proofs!"
"I don't want my son to fight!--Listen to your mother, Pamphile!"
"You pinched Petronille; I stick to that!"
"But I made a mistake!"
"Watch!"
"In God's name, Madame Girie, be good enough to hold your tongue!"
A small man, whom I had not yet seen, as he was hidden by the crowd,
succeeded in passing his perfectly curled blonde head under Madame
Girie's ear rings, and said, gesticulating freely after the manner of
Mr. Punch, for he bore a strong resemblance to a marionette:
"Allow me! allow me! we must try to understand each other. Monsieur says
he came to my cousin Pamphile Girie's wedding party by mistake; but a
mistake like that don't last an hour, and monsieur's been with us more
than an hour. I noticed him; he drank punch every minute; he made more
noise than all the rest of the company, and I said to myself: 'That
man's a _boute-en-train_![A] Oh! he's a famous _boute-en-train_!' But
monsieur must have discovered that he didn't know us; that the bride and
groom were not the ones who invited him. It seems to me that that's
good, logical reasoning. I'm a logical man!"
The little automaton was not such a fool as one would have supposed at
first sight. Balloquet was at a loss for a reply to his speech. I made
haste to take the floor.
"Messieurs, my friend Arthur Balloquet has not deceived you; he is a
most estimable physician, and incapable of offending you intentionally.
He mistook the salon, that is all; you must not see anything more in the
affair than there really is in it."
"And I was so comfortable where I was," said Balloquet, "that I could
not make up my mind to go away."
This compliment allayed the ferocity of the vitreous-eyed gentleman.
However, he was about to repeat his demand for proofs, when, on turning
his head, he saw Monsieur Guillardin, who had come out to ascertain the
cause of the uproar, accompanied by Madame Dauberny. She came to my side
and whispered:
"I presume that your friend Balloquet has been putting his foot in it?"
As I said yes with my eyes, we heard a cry of surprise:
"Why, there's Monsieur Guillardin--my landlord!"
"Himself, Monsieur Bocal. What are you doing here, pray?"
"What am I doing? Why, I am marrying my daughter Petronille to Monsieur
Girie here.--Come forward, Girie; come, I say, and speak to my landlord,
to whom I sent cards, I am sure."
The tall, fair-haired youth came forward with the loutish air that never
left him, and bowed sheepishly to Monsieur Guillardin. This incident
produced a fortunate diversion; attention was diverted from Balloquet,
although Madame Girie continued to mutter:
"Oh! if my son should fight, I should be sick three times over! But he
shan't go out, or, if he does, I'll follow him! I'm capable of anything
where Pamphile's concerned. When he ain't home at eleven o'clock or
twelve, I go and sit at the window, and there I sit all night, till he
comes home. When I hear a horse, I says: 'There's my son.'--Sometimes I
don't have anything on but three undervests and two chemises! but I
don't care; I snap my fingers at the risk of catching cold!"
But nobody listened to Madame Girie. Monsieur Guillardin, having
acknowledged the salutations of Monsieur Bocal and long-legged Pamphile,
said to the former:
"Faith! my dear monsieur, this is a curious coincidence. I'm here for
the same purpose that you are."
"I don't understand."
"I have married my daughter to-day, and we're celebrating the occasion
right beside you here."
"Is that so? can it be possible? This other wedding party is yours? I
mean, that you're marrying your daughter--no, giving her in marriage?"
"Yes, monsieur," interposed Madame Dauberny; "and I have been waiting a
long while for Monsieur Balloquet to ask me to dance. I told him that I
should be at Mademoiselle Guillardin's wedding."
Balloquet stared in amazement when that lady, whom he did not know,
called him by name; but he replied at once:
"I am at your service, madame; but, you see, I was trying to explain
matters to these gentlemen, and----"
"Oh! that's all over! let's not say any more about that!" cried Bocal,
grasping Balloquet's hand. "If I had had any idea that you were invited
to my landlord's wedding party!--Madame, messieurs, we shall be much
flattered if you will honor us with your presence, if you will deign to
come to our ball.--I beg you, Monsieur Guillardin, to do me that honor.
Let me present Petronille--Pamphile, go and call Petronille.--Come,
madame and messieurs, pray take a turn at our ball.--Cousin Ravinet,
make our friends stand aside and make room for my landlord."
Cousin Ravinet was the little man who talked like Mr. Punch; he rushed
into the room where Monsieur Girie's wedding was being celebrated,
crying:
"Here comes my cousin's landlord! He's coming to our party. Bocal's
bringing him.--A little music, please. I say there, you in the
orchestra!"
The musicians supposed that he was calling for dance music, and they
began to play a polka. Monsieur Guillardin, impelled almost by force by
his tenant Monsieur Bocal, found himself in the ballroom at the rear.
Madame Dauberny and I followed him, as did Balloquet, the latter being
escorted almost in triumph by the bridegroom, who had taken his arm.
"You ought to have told us right off that you were a friend--a friend of
friends of ours," said Girie. "Then we wouldn't have quarrelled. As
you're invited to the party of my father-in-law Bocal's landlord, why,
give me your hand! I must insist on your dancing the next dance with
Petronille."
"You're too kind, Monsieur Girie. As for the mistake I made in pinching
your good wife----"
"Nonsense! don't say any more about that! It was a joke--just a joke!
Look you, if you're a good fellow, you'll stay with us--as long as
you're enjoying yourself. Now we know each other, we'll have some sport;
we'll raise the deuce. It's agreed, ain't it? You stay with us; and at
supper I'll take good care of you."
"What's that? you're going to have a supper?"
"Parbleu! I should say so! What does a party amount to without supper?
You'll stay, won't you?"
"Faith! Monsieur Pamphile, you are so kind--your company is so lively;
I'm tempted to let the landlord's party go by the board."
Madame Dauberny and I were walking behind them, and heard every word of
their conversation. She had taken my arm as if we were old
acquaintances, and she said in an undertone:
"It will be fortunate if your friend Balloquet stays here, for I think
that he's a little exhilarated, and if he should come to Anna's ball he
might say something that would compromise us by betraying our little
fraud."
"You are entirely right, madame; but you need have no fear: Balloquet
will stay here. He has been told of a supper to come, and he is one of
those persons who never refuse a meal, even when they have had four
during the day."
"That speaks well for his digestion.--Mon Dieu! just look: I believe
that they propose to make us dance now. Monsieur Bocal is trying to
induce his landlord to polk. It must be that the man's lease is nearing
its end, and he wants to renew it."
The music had, in fact, excited Monsieur Bocal, who deemed it his duty
to walk in step and was almost polking when he presented his landlord to
his daughter Petronille, who was a plump, chubby-cheeked wench, very
fresh and red, with no other recommendation than her youth.
Monsieur Guillardin took out his snuffbox and offered it to the bride,
who muttered:
"Snuff! Sneeze all the time I'm dancing! I guess not! And I haven't got
a handkerchief, either."
"Do you polk?" Madame Frederique asked me.
"Yes, madame."
"Very well; then let us take a turn. I prefer to make my entry dancing;
it will be more amusing. Indeed, I see some faces already that make me
long to laugh. Come, monsieur, they say that you waltz beautifully; let
us see if you polk as well."
We started off. I was in luck that evening: after an excellent waltzer,
I found myself with a partner who polked to perfection. We danced
forward and backward, and turned in every direction. Our manner of
dancing seemed to arouse the admiration of the company, for I heard
people say as we passed:
"Look! there's a couple who dance pretty well!"
"Just look at those two; see what pretty steps they take!"
"Who are those people?"
"They belong to the party in front, the wedding party of Monsieur
Bocal's landlord's daughter; Monsieur Bocal invited them."
"They polk mighty well; they must be ballet dancers at least."
"I'll bet they belong to the Opera."
Madame Dauberny heard this last. She laughed heartily, but that did not
interfere with her running comments on the wedding guests:
"Look at that couple yonder; for ten minutes they have been in the same
spot; they are trying to polk, and can't go forward or back.--You will
notice a tall woman in pink, in the corner at our left, with a garland
of green leaves on her head; she has struck the attitude of a caryatid,
and seems disposed to weep.--And see those two ladies, or demoiselles,
polking together, and bumping into everybody.--And that little man
hopping about with a tall partner."
"That's Cousin Ravinet."
"On my word, there are some sweet caricatures here! There are some very
good-looking girls, but they look like grisettes; probably that's all
they are. I am very curious to know what Monsieur Bocal's business is."
The music stopped. The heat was stifling in the ballroom.
"I have had enough of it," said Madame Dauberny; "besides, I believe
that Monsieur Guillardin has returned to his daughter. Take me back to
the other party; then you may return here, if you choose."
"I beg you to believe, madame, that I too prefer the company of which
you are one."
"I believe you; I should be sorry for you if it were otherwise. But you
must return and speak to your friend Balloquet. Balloquet! you must
agree that that is a singular name for a physician. If I were ill, I
would never put myself in the hands of a doctor named Balloquet!"
"So you think that the name is of some consequence, do you, madame?"
"Much, monsieur; if your name had been Balloquet, I could never have
made up my mind to say that you were a friend of my girlhood."
While we talked, we had returned to the Guillardin party, of which I was
now a duly accredited member. But as a quadrille was beginning just as
we entered the ballroom, Madame Dauberny seated herself by the door, and
I stood beside her, delighted to be able to continue my conversation
with the amiable Frederique; for to my mind she was extremely amiable,
and if I had not been in love with her friend Armantine---- But it is so
pleasant to be in love, even when it amounts to nothing, and vastly more
so when it may amount to something. I was still in the dark as to how it
would be with my new passion; but one is always at liberty to hope.
"I am under great obligations to you, madame, for what you have done for
me to-night."
"Mon Dieu! you have already expressed your gratitude, monsieur! I trust
that I shall hear no more of it."
"You know now, madame, that I have sometimes met Monsieur Sordeville in
society; but that is not enough for me. I should be glad to make myself
known to you more fully; and if you will allow me to call and pay my
respects to you----"
Madame Dauberny looked at me a moment with a strange expression; I would
have liked to know what was passing through her mind; but she soon
replied, with her deliberate air:
"No, monsieur, no; I will not allow you to call on me; indeed, why
should you do so?"
"Why, to have the pleasure of being with you, madame; and because I
desire to make myself better known to you; and----"
"No; it's unnecessary, I tell you. I am entirely convinced, monsieur, of
your good faith in all that you have told me; what more can you desire?"
"Nothing in that direction. But when one has once had the pleasure of
being your escort, it is painful, madame, to think of the possibility of
never seeing you again."
"Never! That is a word that ought to be stricken from the dictionary,
monsieur, don't you think?"
"I agree with you, madame, for it is a very sad word."
"And false three-quarters of the time. However, if you really wish to
see me again, don't be disturbed; you will have an opportunity."
"Where, madame?"
"At Armantine's."
"Madame Sordeville's? But I know her no better than I do you."
"True; but her husband knows you. Talk a little more with him, and I
will undertake to say that he'll invite you to his house."
"Do you think so, madame?"
"Try it, and you will see. Ah! here's the terrible Archibald coming
toward us. Beware, or you will make an enemy of him!"
"How so?"
"Because I am sure that he thinks you are making love to me. He is
capable of believing even more than that; and you must know that he has
made me a declaration of love."
"I presume that that must be a common experience with you."
"That is quite true."
"And Monsieur Archibald has simply followed a road which many men are
tempted to take."
"Look you, monsieur, I agree that a man may make a declaration of love
to a woman, without meaning anything in particular; that is the
commonest thing in the world; and if a woman is ever so little
coquettish and attractive, she can safely bet that she will extort a
declaration from every man she knows. So there's no great merit in
that. But because a woman is less coy than another, because she says
frankly what she thinks, because she doesn't play the prude and isn't
afraid to laugh at a joke, because, in a word, she has in her manners
more or less unconstraint, originality, character, boldness if you
will--to imagine, therefore, that that woman is likely to be an easy
conquest, that a man has only to--you can divine what I do not say----
Well! monsieur, that is a very grave mistake, born either of stupidity
or monumental conceit."
Did she say that for my benefit? I could not tell. Still, I had made no
declaration; and although I had expressed a wish to see her again, to
thank her again, it seemed to me that that was perfectly natural after
the service she had rendered me. No; she simply meant to give me a
warning. But in that case she must be convinced that I proposed to make
love to her? She was mistaken, for I thought only of my charming
partner, Madame Sordeville.
The quadrille came to an end, and I left my place, thinking that I would
return for a moment to the other ball, to make sure that Balloquet would
not come in search of me, and to see what he was doing as Monsieur
Bocal's guest. From the glimpse I had caught of that other function, I
fancied that there were likely to be some amusing sights there, and
that love was probably treated there in another fashion than in the
salons at the front of the house.
XIII
THE BRIDE AND GROOM AND THEIR KINSFOLK
At Mademoiselle Bocal's wedding feast, punch, mulled wine, and
_bischoff_ were circulating all the time, and the ladies partook of that
species of refreshment as often as the men. From this fact it will be
understood that at the Bocal ball there was an enthusiasm which
threatened to develop into wild revelry. Most of the ladies were as red
as poppies; some of them laughed incessantly; others, who were
presumably very sentimental in their cups, rolled their eyes in a
languishing way that drove you back to your entrenchments; others, whom
the punch made melancholy, heaved prodigious sighs and were damp about
the eyes.
As for the men, they were almost all loquacious and noisy, and I believe
that I might safely say, tipsy.
When I entered the ballroom the second time, I looked about for
Balloquet. I discovered him sitting beside a brunette with a headdress
of roses, whose cheeks were of a brilliancy and lustre that dimmed the
hue of the flowers. Their conversation was so animated that the young
doctor in embryo--for to that class Balloquet belonged--did not notice
me, although I had planted myself directly in front of him.
I concluded to tap him on the shoulder.
"Monsieur Balloquet," said I, "I would be glad to say a word to you, if
possible."
"It isn't possible at this moment. I am engaged. I am explaining to
mademoiselle the proper method of applying leeches."
And Balloquet gave me a meaning glance. I understood that his interview
had reached an interesting point, and I was about to walk away, when I
felt a hand on my arm. It was the little marionette named Ravinet, who
was trying to make fast to me, and shouting--for everybody in the room
shouted instead of speaking:
"Ah! you're one of the landlord's guests; I recognize you. You're the
man who polks so well! It's very polite of you to come back to us.
You'll polk again, won't you? If you want to please Aunt Chalumeau,
you'll invite her; poor, dear woman, she's never polked in her life, and
she's dying to. Her hair dresser told her she had the right make-up."
I had no inclination whatever to put Aunt Chalumeau's make-up to the
test, and I told Cousin Ravinet, who struck me as being well primed, and
persisted in hanging on my arm:
"I will tell you in confidence that I shall not polk again for some
time; I am very tired."
"Oh! that's a pity. Do you belong to the Opera?"
"I? No, indeed!"
"Are you related to my cousin's landlord?"
"No; I am a friend of his."
"And that lady who was dancing with you don't belong to the Opera,
either?"
"By no means."
"We all thought you did. You jigged it so well!"
"Monsieur Ravinet----"
"Ah! you know my name!"
"I have that honor. Do me the favor to tell me what Monsieur Bocal's
business is."
"What's that! don't you know my cousin?"
"I know that he's the bride's father, and that he's Monsieur
Guillardin's tenant; that's all."
"What! you don't know Bocal the distiller's shop, on Rue Montmartre?
He's one of the largest distillers in Paris."
"Ah! he's a distiller, is he?"
"Why, everybody knows him!"
"I must tell you that I very rarely have dealings with distillers."
"He's the man who makes the syrup of punch--that's a famous brew! Did
you ever drink it?"
"No; and I am not anxious to."
"Oh! you must take some, and tell us what you think of it.--Come here
quick, Cousin Bocal! I say! here's a gentleman from your landlord's
party; he's never tasted your punch."
The stout man with the glassy eyes stopped at Cousin Ravinet's summons;
then he came to me and gripped my other arm, saying with an effusiveness
that scorched my cheeks, for he had the unpleasant habit of speaking
within an inch of your nose:
"Ah! monsieur, you're one of my landlord's guests. Surely you won't
insult me by joining us without taking something?--Here, waiter!"
"You are too good, Monsieur Bocal, but----"
"The punch is made with my syrup; it's perfumed, and sweetens your
breath."
"That is what I was just saying to monsieur, cousin----"
"I say there! waiter!"
"Waiter! bring some punch! My cousin is calling you!"
Cousin Ravinet was determined to do his part. The two men held me so
that I could not escape. A waiter arrived with a salver. I realized that
I should get into serious difficulty if I refused; it would be quite
likely to draw down upon me the wrath of Madame Girie, whom I spied in a
corner, whispering with some other women. So I swallowed the glass of
punch, hoping that I should be set free; but I was disappointed.
Monsieur Bocal led me away toward his daughter Petronille, saying:
"You must dance with the bride."
"It's a very great honor, but----"
"Oh! you must dance with her. My landlord refused to dance, but he's an
elderly man. But a famous dancer, a zephyr, like you, can't refuse."
I did not know how to evade the honors with which I was overwhelmed.
Monsieur Bocal had already said to his daughter:
"Petronille, you're going to dance with monsieur--my landlord's friend."
"But, papa, I am going to dance with Freluchon."
"What do I care for Freluchon! I tell you, Petronille, you're going to
dance with monsieur; and you'll see how he dances. All you've got to do
is stand straight----"
"But I promised poor Freluchon two hours ago, and he's gone to wash his
hands on purpose, because he's lost his gloves; he'll be mad."
"For heaven's sake, Monsieur Bocal," said I, "don't let me interfere
with your daughter's plans! I will dance with her later; I should be
very sorry to offend anyone."
"On the contrary, monsieur, it will give me much pleasure," said Bocal.
"I don't care a snap of my finger whether Freluchon's angry or not. The
idea of putting ourselves out for him! Not much! You shall dance this
dance with the bride. Hark! there goes the orchestra; take your places
quick!"
Escape was impossible. What had I tumbled into? Those people were as
obstinate as mules, and a refusal on my part would irritate them; people
of little education are always extremely sensitive with fashionable
persons, for they feel their inferiority; they are afraid of being
laughed at, when no one has any idea of laughing at them.
I made the best of it and took my place beside the bride, who did not
act as if she were overjoyed to dance with me and probably regretted
Freluchon.
"Who's going to dance opposite the bride?" shouted Monsieur Bocal, in
stentorian tones.
"I am! I am! here I am!"
And a tall, thin, bald-headed old man appeared, leading by the hand a
girl of seven or eight. There was a vis-a-vis which would not afford me
any distraction! I heard a muttering behind me, then groans, then
Monsieur Bocal's voice above all the rest. It was probably Monsieur
Freluchon, indignant to find that he had washed his hands for nothing.
The quadrille began. The bride went into it with all her heart; she was
a buxom wench, who had made up her mind to let herself go on her wedding
day, and was determined to do what she had set out to do. If only I did
not get in the way of her feet, I felt that I should be lucky. The tall
old man, who stood opposite her, danced with a zeal deserving of the
greatest praise; he persisted in taking all the little steps and even
essayed some leaps and bounds; the perspiration rolled down his face
after the second figure, but he did not omit a step. He was a
conscientious dancer, and would have been in great demand under the
Empire. The little girl hopped about in every direction, and made a mess
of every figure; she was always behind me when she should have been in
front; but I was indifferent and let her wander about at her pleasure.
I was convinced that Cousin Ravinet had spread the information that I
was a famous dancer, for there was a crowd about our set. The good
people must have been sadly disappointed, as I did nothing but walk
through the figures. Indeed, I heard some voices muttering:
"Bah! it wasn't worth while to put ourselves out; I can dance better
than that. Ravinet must have seen double; he don't even know how to do
the _basque_ step!"
I felt called upon to try to talk with the bride.
"You must be tired, madame?"
"Tired? why?"
"You have probably been dancing a long while."
"_Dame!_ if the bride didn't dance, it would be a pretty wedding! The
men have to ask me to dance; that's what they were invited for."
I bit my lip, as I rejoined:
"This is a very happy day for you, madame, is it not?"
"A happy day! Oh! it's rather amusing just now; but I've found it pretty
stupid all day!"
"Ah! is that so? But I presume that you love the man you have married?"
"Oh, yes! well enough, as far as that goes; not too much; but it'll
come; pa said it would come."