organized a game of baccarat, with herself as banker. The stakes were
high, and she won from everybody, until she had a pile of gold in front
of her. Herr von Brunzbrack had lost all the money that he had with him;
but that did not disturb him: he tried to obtain a word, even a glance,
from the superb banker; but to no purpose, she paid no attention to him.
After a time, in my effort to distract my thoughts, I took my turn
against Madame Dauberny, who played with perfect tranquillity, utterly
indifferent to her good fortune, and did not deign to notice the laments
or the ogling of those whom she had despoiled.
"Ah! so you are going to play," she said to me, in a bantering tone.
"Indeed, you are very wise, for, if the proverb is to be depended on,
you will be very lucky to-night. But proverbs take the liberty of lying
sometimes--poor Baron von Brunzbrack is a living example. If anyone
ought to win, he is the man! And yet, I have ruined him as well as all
the others. Come, monsieur, let us play, let us play! I shall not be
sorry to vanquish you also."
It seemed to me that there was an ironical tone in Madame Dauberny's
voice, which was not usual with her. I remembered what her friend had
told me as to the numerous lovers who had succeeded one another in her
heart; if I chose to be sarcastic, there were many things I might say to
her by way of retort. But, no--I was conscious of an indefinable feeling
of sympathy with that woman. I loved her--not with love; it was rather
friendship, confidence, which drew me toward her. Why, in heaven's name,
did I steal that kiss while she was asleep? But, on the other hand, why
did she keep changing her coiffure, and make herself so alluring, so
seductive? A woman ought not to try such experiments, even on a man who
is in love with her friend.
I placed some gold in front of me, and began to play. I won; I doubled
my stake, and won again; I continued on the same line, and won
incessantly. But after a few moments Frederique seemed to be inattentive
to her game; I noticed that she glanced frequently and with evident
impatience toward her left: Monsieur Sordeville was there, talking
confidentially with the Baron von Brunzbrack. Suddenly my banker
interrupted the game and cried, turning to the two men:
"Mon Dieu! Monsieur Sordeville, do let that poor baron alone for a
moment; he comes here to amuse himself, and you compel him to talk to
you about the affairs of his government! Really, you abuse your position
as host; it is not generous."
Monsieur Sordeville became dumb; his lips blanched, but he forced
himself to smile, and replied, after a brief interval:
"In truth, madame, I was ill-advised to converse with one of my guests;
it is robbing you of an adorer."
"Come and play, baron," said Madame Dauberny, making no reply to
Monsieur Sordeville's compliment.
The baron came to the table with a blissful air, crying:
"I vould like noding petter, but I haf not ein sou."
"You may play on credit, monsieur; you are one of those men whose honor
is evident to all, and of whom no one ventures to speak slightingly."
The baron bowed; he was radiant with joy. It seemed to me that there was
a hidden meaning in Madame Dauberny's last words, and that they were
accompanied with a glance at Monsieur Sordeville, who did not stir.
The baron seated himself by my side. I offered to lend him money; he
accepted, and in a short time we broke the bank. Thereupon the fair
Frederique gravely rose and left the table, saying:
"Faith! the proverb did not lie; it was written that you should both
win."
"Are you going, montame?"
"Yes, baron."
"Vill you not bermit me to escord you in my carriage?"
"No, not to-night."
"Monsir Rocheprune, he vill come mit us."
"Thanks; but I do not care for an escort to-night. Nights succeed one
another, but do not resemble one another."
Frederique took her departure, leaving the baron discomfited. I returned
to Madame Sordeville, as I was determined to speak to her before I went
away. I saw that she was alone, so I hastened to her side and told her
how happy I should be if I could see her again soon and tell her of my
love, without witnesses. She listened with a distraught, indifferent
air; and when I thought that she was about to reply, she cried:
"Dear me! they haven't served the tea yet, and it's after twelve!"
And she left me. I stood for a moment as if rooted to the floor. I could
not understand the caprice, the coquetry, the bewildering changes, in
Armantine's treatment of me. I asked myself if a false note could have
caused it all; and if so, what reliance was to be placed upon a lady's
favor. I concluded that it would be well for me to go away. At that
moment, the tall, thin woman who had previously spoken to me accosted me
again:
"When your teeth ache too badly, monsieur, you can fill them yourself.
I'll show you how. Come and sit here."
I had no desire to hear any more, and turned and fled while she was
seating herself in a convenient position to show me how one can fill
one's own teeth.
XXV
A YOUNG MOTHER
Three months had passed, and I had not tried to see Madame Sordeville
again. However, her image had not faded from my heart; on the contrary,
she was constantly in my thoughts, and I imagined her as amiable and
fascinating as on the first day that I saw her. So that I was not cured
of my passion for that lady, although I had sufficient self-control not
to call upon her again. To my mind, it was perfectly natural to love a
person who did not love me; that is something that happens every day;
but I did not understand how any man could consent to act as laughing
stock to a coquette. One must needs try to retain a certain amount of
dignity; to forget one's dignity is not the way to win love. When,
burning with desire to see Armantine, I was on the point of forgetting
my resolutions and running to throw myself at her feet, I remembered how
she had left me abruptly, to attend to her tea, without a word in reply
to what I had said to her.
I had not once met Madame Dauberny, and I regretted more deeply every
day the loss of that strange creature's friendship. It was so novel to
be _thou'd_ by a woman whose lover I had never been. At least, it was a
change, a departure from common custom. And then, she had given me her
confidence so unreservedly! Why had I sacrificed all that by a moment's
forgetfulness?
But, after all, I considered that Frederique had treated me very
harshly. She might well have scolded me, have made me understand my
mistake, without breaking off all relations with me on the spot. The
idea of being so angry about a kiss! It was a most extraordinary thing,
for that is one of the offences which the sex readily forgives. And
then, there were so many extenuating circumstances! The supper, the
champagne, the hour! And that hair of hers, which she arranged in a
different way every minute!
It was the end of February, and the cold was still very sharp, when, on
one of those keen, bracing mornings that invite one to walk, I happened
to remember Mignonne Landernoy. Poor girl! How could I have forgotten
her so long, and all for a coquette who certainly did not give a thought
to me! I determined to repair my neglect at once. I enveloped myself in
a heavy coat, put a comforter around my neck, and started for Rue
Menilmontant.
As I walked along, I recalled Mignonne's plight when I saw her in
November; I thought of all that must have happened since then, and I was
conscious of nothing but an eager desire to have news of the young
woman. I quickened my pace, and at last found myself in front of the
concierge's door. She was surrounded by cats, as on the occasion of my
first visit.
At sight of a man enveloped in a heavy coat with the collar turned up,
and with his face almost entirely hidden by a comforter, Madame Potrelle
sat up in her chair and took one of the cats in her right hand as if to
hurl it at my head.
"What do you want, monsieur?" she cried, with an imposing air; "what
does this mean? Do people come into other people's houses disguised like
that? Unmask yourself, monsieur; I don't answer masks, I tell you!"
I removed my comforter, and could not refrain from laughing at the
concierge's alarm, as I said:
"Are comforters unknown in your quarter, madame? It seems to be quite as
cold here as it is where I came from."
The good woman uttered an exclamation of surprise, for she recognized
me; thereupon she placed on the stove the cat she had seized in lieu of
a pistol, which instantly vanished. I stepped into the lodge.
"What! is it you, monsieur? _Pardine!_ I remember you now! You're the
young man with the shirts."
"The same, madame; it was I who left with you some work for--Madame
Landernoy."
"And a letter; yes, yes! Oh! I recognize you. But I couldn't see
anything but your eyes just now, and, you see, that startled me at
first. Well! you've taken your time about coming to get your shirts;
anybody can see you ain't in a hurry!"
"Tell me about that poor young woman."
"She's pretty well, although she works awful hard. You see, she has to
work for two now! She was confined more than two months ago; she's got a
little girl, a sweet, pretty little thing."
"Ah! so much the better! And the child is with her?"
"Yes, to be sure; oh! there's no danger of her parting with the child;
she nurses her herself, and never leaves her a minute; she's so afraid
something'll happen to her, that she'll cry or need her care, that she
wont let her out of her sight a single minute. When she goes out to buy
her provisions, she carries her in her arms. Sometimes I say to her:
'Why, Madame Landernoy'--I never call her anything but _madame_
now--'why, Madame Landernoy,' I says, 'just leave your child here with
me; I'll look after little Marie while you do your errands, and you can
go much quicker if you don't have her to carry.'--But she won't do it. I
believe, God forgive me! that she's afraid my cats will hurt the child;
but they ain't capable of it, monsieur; I've brought 'em up too well for
that. They're playful and sly--that's because they're young, and we've
all been young; but as for bad temper and clawing, I never saw any signs
of it in 'em."
"I see that Madame Landernoy loves her daughter dearly."
"Love her! why, her daughter's her life, her thought, her heart! Ah! my
word! it would be a pity not to have a child, when one's such a good
mother!"
"You are right, madame; children are a burden only to those who do not
know how to love them! Did the young mother consent finally to accept
the work I left with you?"
"Yes, monsieur. At first, when she read your letter--she read it here in
my lodge--she shook her head like a person who ain't quite convinced.
What can you expect? she's suspicious, poor girl! Well! just hear me
call her a girl, will you! what a stupid! The poor woman has good cause
for that. A scalded cat's afraid of cold water--mine all are; I can
punish 'em more, monsieur, by throwing two or three drops of water in
their faces than if I took a stick to 'em."
"You were saying that when Madame Landernoy read my letter she did not
seem fully convinced of the honesty of my intentions?"
"There was a little doubt left in her mind; but then she says: 'I may as
well do this work, as that gentleman will come here to get it.'"
"So that my shirts are done?"
"Yes, monsieur; they've been here more'n five weeks, with the little
bill; and in the last few days Madame Landernoy's asked me two or three
times if you'd been or sent anybody to get your shirts--because, I
guess--just now---- _Dame!_ monsieur, work ain't always very plenty, you
understand; and now that she's got a child, she has to have a stove in
her room, because she don't want her daughter to take cold."
"I understand, madame; I am very, very sorry that I delayed so about
coming. Give me the bill at once."
"Take your shirts first and see how well they're done! Such sewing! it's
perfect!"
The concierge had taken a parcel from her commode; but I pushed it away,
saying:
"I am sure they are well done. But the bill, the bill!"
"I'll give it to you, monsieur. I'm sorry you won't look at your shirts.
Here's the bill--yes, that's it."
I looked to see what I owed, and read:
"For making twelve shirts--twenty-seven francs."
I put my hand in my pocket, and sighed.
"Twenty-seven francs!" I muttered.
"_Dame!_ yes, at forty-five sous the shirt," said the concierge, hearing
the sigh. "Do you think that's too much?"
"No, madame; on the contrary, I think that it's not enough. The young
woman must spend at least two days making a shirt, doesn't she?"
"I should think so! Say three, and you'll be nearer the mark."
"So that, by working constantly, and robbing herself of sleep
perhaps,--for she has a child that often requires her attention,--the
poor woman would earn only fifteen sous a day. Can she live, board and
clothe herself, and keep herself warm, on fifteen sous?"
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, it ain't every woman who sews for a living as earns
that. But then, as you say, they can't live, and they're obliged to--to
do something else."
"If I should have these shirts made at a shop, madame, I should have to
pay at least three francs each. I am not a tradesman myself, and I don't
care to make money out of a workwoman. Twelve shirts at three francs
makes thirty-six francs which I owe Madame Landernoy. Be kind enough to
hand it to her for me."
I held out the money to the concierge, who did not take it, because she
was wiping her eyes. My action seemed to her very meritorious, and yet
it was no more than just.
"You are a very good man, monsieur," she said at last, in a tearful
voice; "if everybody thought as you do, seamstresses could live and we
should see fewer poor wretches on the streets at night. But still, I
don't know whether I ought to take the sum you offer me."
"Why not, pray?"
"Because the little woman's so proud in her poverty. She'll say: 'He
only owed me twenty-seven francs, and you ought not to have taken any
more.'"
"You can explain to her that it's the price I always pay."
"Oh, yes! but that won't seem right to her. _Dame!_ what can you
expect? She's suspicious, as I told you. And, worse luck! people do so
few--honest things in these days----"
"You must remind her that her daughter may need a thousand things."
"Oh, yes! I know; that's where I shall have to catch her. Well, I'll
keep what you give me; and I can give it back if she won't take it."
"She must take it! But that is not all, madame; has she much work at
this moment?"
"I don't think so; so this money'll come in very handy."
"That isn't enough; it will soon be spent."
"The deuce! how fast you go! My, thirty-six francs is a lot of money!"
"I would like to give Madame Landernoy other work to do."
"But you can't go on having shirts made forever."
"Mon Dieu! what can I give her? Ah! does she make waistcoats?"
"I believe she tried one for the landlord's little boy; but they said it
was a failure. Still, that little fellow's terrible hard to suit; he had
his cap made over five times, and finally swore he'd have a
three-cornered hat! He's so spoiled that he's unreasonable. But just let
him try again to set my cats fighting!"
"Then it's understood, madame, that I am to buy some material for
waistcoat fronts, which I will bring you, together with a pattern, and
you are to give the work to Madame Landernoy to do, and tell her not to
worry; that her customer isn't exacting, that I am having them made for
someone in the country."
The concierge dropped her cats to shake hands with me.
"I understand you, monsieur," she said; "you're afraid the young mother
won't have work enough; you mean to give her work, by hook or by crook.
You're interested in her, and I'll bet that she makes a mistake to
suspicion you. Oh! I know what's what, I do; I can scent one of those
empty-headed puppies who comes to talk nonsense, when he's a mile away!
They don't go about it the way you do; they slip a piece of money in my
hand, with a little note that smells of musk and hair oil, and then they
examine the house and the yard and the windows as if they meant to break
in. I know 'em, I know 'em!"
"No, Madame Potrelle, I am not a lover--here, at all events."
"_Pardi!_ I can understand that you may be, somewhere else. It would be
a pity if you didn't think about such things, at your age."
"I will go and buy the material and bring it to you."
"But that will give you the trouble of coming back again, monsieur. If
you want, I can save you that. My niece happens to be here just now, and
she can look out for my lodge while I go to monsieur's address; and I'll
tell you at the same time whether Madame Landernoy consents to take the
thirty-six francs."
Something told me that the woman had some hidden reason for making that
suggestion. I fancied that she desired to come to my lodgings, so that
she might find out more about me and be certain that I had given my own
name in my letter to Mignonne; indeed, might it not be that the young
mother herself had asked her to try to find out who I was?
As I had nothing to fear from such information as Madame Potrelle could
collect about me, I accepted her proposal.
"Here is my address," I said, handing her one of my cards. "Be there in
two hours, and I shall have made my purchases. Please be good enough to
bring me my shirts at the same time."
"With pleasure, monsieur!"
Madame Potrelle was prompt; I had been at home only a few minutes, when
Pomponne appeared and said with comic gravity:
"There's a woman outside asking for you, monsieur. She has something in
her apron, and a parcel under her arm. I suppose she's a second-hand
dealer who wants to sell you something."
"Hold your tongue, Pomponne, and show her in!"
My servant obeyed my order, although he seemed much puzzled that I
received in my salon a person whom he evidently considered unworthy of
the honor; and he kept his eye on the object which the concierge held to
her breast, wrapped in her apron. I motioned to him to withdraw, and he
left the room, walking backward.
Madame Potrelle made a succession of reverences, and handed me my
shirts, which she had under her arm, wrapped in a handkerchief. The good
woman expressed her admiration of my apartments and their furnishings;
which goes to show that opulence always produces its effect on the
multitude and on private individuals as well. I tried to put her at her
ease, and forced her to sit down in an easy-chair; but she continued to
hug her apron to her breast, and it seemed to embarrass her.
At last she partly opened the apron, saying:
"I beg your pardon, monsieur, for venturing to bring him here--but he
never goes out, poor dear, and I thought it would do him good."
"What do you mean, Madame Potrelle? have you got a child in there?"
"No, monsieur, no; it's one of my cats, Bribri, the youngest one. The
others let him be and won't ever play with him, just because he limps a
bit, poor little rascal! He's got a little trouble in his leg. Cats are
as bad as men; they turn up their noses at the weak ones! That's why I
wanted to give the poor dear a little pleasure."
"You did well, Madame Potrelle; let Bribri run about a little, if you
wish."
"You see, monsieur, my cats are well brought up; they ain't capable of
forgetting themselves, no matter where they be."
"I am sure of it."
The concierge opened her apron entirely, and a small black and white cat
escaped from its folds and scuttled under a piece of furniture.
"Well," I said, "have you seen Madame Landernoy?"
"Yes, monsieur; when she found out that you'd given me more money than
she'd put in her bill, she wouldn't take it, and she almost got mad with
me. It was no use for me to say: 'The gentleman always pays that price;'
she said that didn't make any difference to her. The only way I could
make her take the money was to tell her that you had other work for her
to do and she could let it go on that.--Well! on my word! there he is on
the couch now! Bribri! you mustn't get upon that, you scamp!"
"We will see, when it comes to paying for the waistcoats. Poor girl!
what noble pride! what an upright soul! And this is the sort of woman
that men take pleasure in defiling!"
"What do you say, monsieur?"
"Nothing, Madame Potrelle. Here are the material, the linings, and the
pattern. Take them all, and please accept this for your trouble."
I slipped five francs into the concierge's hand; she made some objection
to taking it, declaring that whatever she did for her tenant she did
unselfishly. I succeeded without too much difficulty in removing her
scruples. She took the material; but the next thing was to capture
Bribri, who had established himself under a sofa and refused to come out
at all, or came out only to run under something else. It seemed to me
that he showed much agility for a cripple.
Madame Potrelle made the circuit of my salon several times on all fours.
At last, by rolling a ball of paper across the floor, we succeeded in
enticing and catching Bribri, whom his mistress replaced in her apron,
saying reprovingly:
"You ain't been a good boy; you shan't go out again for six
weeks.--Adieu, monsieur! you haven't got any other word to send to my
tenant?"
"Tell her that I am very fond of children, and that I would like to kiss
her daughter."
"Ah! if she could hear you, monsieur, I'll bet that she'd hold her
little Marie up to you right away. But you won't let three months go by
without coming again, will you, monsieur?"
"No, Madame Potrelle; I shall come very soon to hear about Madame
Landernoy."
"And I'll tell her, monsieur, that you're an excellent young
man--because--anyone can see right away that---- Well! if the little
rascal ain't swearing now! Ah! catch me taking you to walk again!"
I dismissed the concierge, who went away without giving Pomponne a
chance to see what she had under her apron. He was thunderstruck.
XXVI
THE SQUIRREL
As I was about to leave the house, Pomponne handed me a card; it was
Balloquet's. He had been several times to see me and had failed to find
me. I was ashamed of my discourteous treatment of that young man, to
whom I was indebted for my acquaintance with Armantine and Frederique.
It was not his fault if nothing had come of that acquaintance, neither
love nor friendship. I was very sure that he had been more fortunate
than I, and that the liaison he had begun at Monsieur Bocal's party had
led to something. But there was no reason why I should not convince
myself of the fact, and I determined to pay Balloquet a visit.
I betook myself to the young physician's abode on Place Breda. Balloquet
had established himself there in the hope of obtaining patients among
the lorettes. He considered that with such a clientage his fortune was
assured. He had my best wishes, but it was not medicine that he
practised with those ladies.
As I was entering the house in which lived my jovial companion of the
night of the weddings, the concierge stopped me.
"Where is monsieur going?"
"To see Monsieur Balloquet, physician."
"He has not lived here for two months, monsieur."
"His address, if you please?"
"Rue d'Amsterdam, No. 42, near the railroad station."
To Rue d'Amsterdam I went. It seemed that Balloquet had not obtained the
practice that he hoped for among the lorettes; perhaps he had decided to
be a railroad doctor--that is to say, to be on hand to attend to
arriving and departing travellers. That would not be a bad idea.
I arrived at No. 42. It was a handsome house, and quite new, naturally
enough, as the street was new. I asked for Dr. Balloquet. The concierge
pointed to a staircase at the rear of the courtyard:
"Top floor, door facing you. He must be in."
The top floor was at least the fifth. It seemed to me that it must be a
bad thing for a doctor to live so far up. Some of the patients who came
to consult him would certainly find it hard work to climb so high.
Probably Balloquet loved fresh air, and made more visits than he
received.
The hall was quite light and very clean and neat; but I had to climb six
flights of stairs before I reached the top landing. I got there at last,
and found the name of Balloquet, with his professional title, on a
little card nailed to the door that faced me. It occurred to me that a
copper plate would be better. I thought that I remembered that he had a
very fine one at his other lodgings; probably he was having it changed.
I pulled a dilapidated tassel, which had at one time done duty on a
curtain. The bell rang shrilly, but nobody opened the door. Perhaps the
apartment was very large. I rang again, but nobody appeared. Still, the
concierge had said:
"He must be in."
I tried another method. Sometimes young men dread a woman's visit,
especially when they have another woman with them. I coughed in several
keys, and in a moment the door opened a little way and Balloquet's nose
appeared. When he spied me, he threw the door wide open, crying: