on you as another myself. If there were ten of us here, and I should say
they were all doctors, she'd take them all for her confidants."
"In that case, I will stay and listen to the consultation."
I resumed my seat, while Balloquet donned his dressing gown, and opened
the door himself.
The doctor was not mistaken; it was a young girl, with a costume halfway
between that of a grisette and a nursery maid. Light hair, an attractive
face, eyes cast down like an innocent schoolgirl, but with a certain
twist in her gait which bore no trace of innocence.
She made a courtesy, then glanced at me, and halted.
"Monsieur is a confrere, another myself," said Balloquet; "so you may
speak before him without fear; indeed, you may be the gainer by so
doing, for two opinions are better than one. Be seated, mademoiselle,
and tell me what brings you here."
The girl courtesied again, and tried to smile; but in the midst of the
smile, her features contracted with pain; she pressed her lips together,
clenched her hands, and leaned against the desk.
"Are you in pain?" asked Balloquet, pushing a chair toward her.
She seemed to breathe with difficulty, but she smiled again, saying:
"It's over now; I hope it won't amount to anything, but it makes me feel
very bad at times."
"Tell me what it is."
"I am a lacemaker, monsieur; but there hasn't been much doing in that
trade for some time, and one earns so little! And I admit that I'm a
good deal of an idler; when I'm sent on an errand, I like to stop in
front of the caricature shops and confectioners; and I like the theatre
too, and balls. It's such good fun to dance at Mabille, at Valentino's,
and at the Cite-d'Antin. In fact, I like a good time, I don't deny it."
"That's characteristic of your age, mademoiselle; indeed, we all like a
good time. Everyone enjoys it according to his tastes. At twenty, it's
love and clothes; at thirty, money; at forty, ambition and titles;
later, cards and rest. But at every age, when we seek to gratify our
desires, we are always after a good time. Go on."
"But, monsieur, when you want to enjoy yourself, and haven't any money,
it's very hard!"
"Sometimes; it depends on the sort of enjoyment you want."
"One night, I was walking on the Champs-Elysees with a friend of mine,
who's a good deal of an idler, like myself, and likes good things to
eat, too. As we passed a cafe, we looked at the people eating ices at
the tables outside, and my friend said: 'I've never eaten any of that!
None of the lovers I've ever had have been good for more than a bottle
of cider or beer. Oh, yes! there was one who ordered punch; but he drank
it all and didn't leave me half a glass!'--'I don't know what ices taste
like, either,' said I; 'but I'd like right well to try one.'--At that, a
fat man behind us, who was listening to us, I suppose, said: 'Allow me
to satisfy your longing, mesdemoiselles, and to offer you an ice. See,
here's an unoccupied table; let's sit down here.'
"I was rather taken by surprise and didn't know what to reply, but my
friend nudged me and whispered: 'Let's accept and take the ices; what
harm will it do? it don't bind us to anything. Besides, he's a
well-dressed man, he's _comme il faut_. I'm going to accept,
anyway!'--And she drew me toward the table. You can understand that I
couldn't very well refuse.--Well, he treated us; my friend had three
ices, but I only took two; they made my teeth ache a little. He stuffed
us with cakes and macaroons, too; so my friend thought he was charming;
but he wasn't at all to my taste. His face was red and all covered with
pimples. However, he had pleasant manners, and, although my friend made
eyes at him, he paid all his attention to me. That made my friend mad.
At last, messieurs--monsieur le docteur--you understand?"
"Yes, perfectly; you made the acquaintance of the stout man who paid for
the ices; but that doesn't tell us why you are suffering now."
"Ah! that's the sequel. I had known that gentleman about six months. I
hadn't got used to him at all; but I had got used to his presents. It
isn't that he was very generous---- However, when you don't love a man,
you ask nothing better than to deceive him."
"That is perfectly natural, mademoiselle; sometimes, indeed, you deceive
him when you do love him."
"Oh! that's true, too; I believe such things have been known. Well,
about six weeks ago I made the acquaintance of a young man I liked very
much."
"And you left the stout party?"
"Mon Dieu! I intended to, certainly--that was my purpose--but----"
"You didn't have a chance, eh?"
"That's it, monsieur. I was looking for an opportunity; I didn't know
just what to do, for I had discovered that Monsieur Bouqueton was very
brutal, with all his _comme il faut_ air."
"Bouqueton!" I exclaimed, struck by that name, as I recalled Madame
Dauberny's confidences on the subject of her husband. "So your stout
man's name is Bouqueton, is it?"
"Yes, monsieur. Do you know him?"
"No, not I. But I have heard of him from a friend of mine, who didn't
speak very highly of him. Go on, mademoiselle."
"I was looking for a chance to break with Monsieur Bouqueton; but,
meanwhile, I continued to receive his presents--so as not to make him
suspicious. Well, three days ago, my lover--my real lover--came and
asked me to dine with him at a little restaurant on Rue du Ponceau,
where they have private rooms. Naturally, I said _yes_. When I went out,
I met my friend, the one who had the ices with me on the Champs-Elysees.
She asked me where I was going, and I was fool enough to tell her. Oh!
women are such traitors! It's never safe to trust one's friends! I am
sure that it was she who told Monsieur Bouqueton that I had another
lover. By making trouble between him and me, she hoped he'd take her, I
suppose--the vile slut! Well, messieurs, when I came out of the
restaurant with my lover, I saw Monsieur Bouqueton standing guard at the
door. I trembled all over. I didn't want to go home, but my young man
couldn't take me with him, for he hadn't any rooms of his own: he lives
with his employer, four clerks in one room. I couldn't go and play
puss-in-the-corner with all four; so I says to myself: 'Never mind!
here's the opportunity I've been looking for to break with Monsieur
Bouqueton.'
"Sure enough, I hadn't been at home half an hour, when someone knocked
at my door. It was Monsieur Bouqueton. I was all of a tremble when I
opened the door; but I was surprised to hear him speak to me very
gently, and say: 'So you don't love me any more, Annette?'--My name's
Annette.--'I can't blame you; for I know that liaisons like ours can't
last forever. I have come to say good-bye to you; but I don't propose to
part on bad terms; on the contrary, to prove that I don't bear you any
grudge, I'll treat you to _bischoff_. I know a place where they make it
delicious. We'll take a cab and go there; then I'll bring you home, and
we'll part the best of friends.'
"I was so delighted that Monsieur Bouqueton didn't make a scene, that I
accepted his invitation. I certainly ought to have been suspicious of
his honey-sweet air, but I'm very fond of _bischoff_. Oh! what a
miserable thing it is to be a glutton! That fault has always made me
make a fool of myself.
"I put my cap on again, and we went out. Monsieur Bouqueton put me into
a cab, but I didn't hear what he said to the driver. We started off. It
was about ten o'clock at night. The cab went on and on.
"'Is this cafe of yours very far?' I asked.
"'Rather far; but we shall soon be there now.'
"The cab stopped at last. Monsieur Bouqueton helped me out and paid the
cabman, who drove away. I looked about; it was as dark as a pocket, and
we had no lantern. All I could see was big trees.
"'Where are we?' I asked, beginning to be frightened; for I began to
suspect treachery. I couldn't see any light; but the trees made me think
that we might be on the outer boulevards. But why should he have taken
me there? At that time of night, in winter, all the restaurants must be
closed.
"Without answering my question, Monsieur Bouqueton took my arm and led
me away; we walked for some minutes, but didn't meet a soul.
"'I won't go any farther,' I said suddenly, and stopped. 'You have
deceived me, and I want to go back to Paris.'
"'Well! all right! we won't go any farther,' said my conductor, in a
voice whose savage accent froze the blood in my veins. 'We are well
enough here for what I have to say to you, and for the lesson I propose
to give you.'
"He had no sooner said this than he knocked me down with a blow of his
fist. I shrieked as I fell; but the miserable villain knew well enough
that no one would come to my rescue. He called me the most horrible
names--beggar--oh! I can't tell you all the vile names he called me!
Certainly, I deserved some of them! But he wasn't content with treating
me like the lowest of the low; he kicked me in the head and breast and
everywhere."
"What a ghastly thing!" cried Balloquet, while I, restraining my
feelings with the utmost difficulty, felt great drops of perspiration on
my brow. The story of that loathsome conduct made my cheeks tingle.
"I begged Monsieur Bouqueton to spare me," continued Annette. "I
confessed my guilt and begged for mercy; but he would not listen; he
kept on kicking me and calling me vile names. At last, he hurt me so
that I could not speak. I don't know whether the monster thought he had
killed me,--that was his purpose, I don't doubt,--but, when he saw that
I didn't move, he may have been frightened, for he suddenly ran off, and
I heard his steps die away in the distance. I lay there on the ground a
long while, in horrible pain. At last a heavy wagon came along, and the
driver heard me groaning. He came to me, put me in his wagon, and took
me as far as the barrier, where he left me. There they gave me what
assistance I needed. I came to myself, but when they asked me what had
happened, I couldn't tell them the truth, so I made up a story about
robbers. When I felt able to go home, they called a cab and sent me
home. All men aren't as wicked as Monsieur Bouqueton, thank God! if they
were, we should have to long for another Flood. The next day, I took
some medicine. The blows on my hips and legs are all black and blue, but
they won't amount to anything. I hoped it would be the same with the one
I got here, on the breast, but it hurts me awfully, it cuts like a
knife; and that's why I came to see you, monsieur."
"Let me see the bruise, my child; you must show us your breast--doctors,
you know----"
"Oh! I'll show you whatever you say, monsieur."
And, without any false modesty, Mademoiselle Annette unbuttoned her
dress and bared her breast. At that moment we could examine it without
any risk to her, for the thought that the poor girl was in pain put all
other thoughts to flight. Under the left breast there was a purple spot,
with a yellowish circle all about it. Balloquet frowned and his face
became grave and sad; I believed that I could divine his thought and I
turned my head away; the sight was too distressing. The girl meanwhile
smiled a wan sort of smile, and said:
"That was a famous blow I got, wasn't it, monsieur?"
"Yes, mademoiselle, yes."
The doctor put his finger on the purple spot.
"Does that hurt?" he asked.
"Oh, yes!"
"And that?"
"Yes!"
"And that?"
"Oh! yes, it does!"
"We must look after this; you must do just what I say, and take the
draught I prescribe."
"But it isn't dangerous, is it, monsieur?"
Balloquet made an effort to resume his customary cheerful expression as
he replied:
"No, mademoiselle, no; you will come out all right. But you must follow
my directions carefully; you must keep a bandage on your breast all the
time, wet with a liquid I will give you."
"You don't need to feel it any more, monsieur?"
"No, mademoiselle."
"When must I come again?"
Balloquet reflected a moment, and said:
"Don't come here again; I am going to move, and I don't know yet where
I shall go; but leave me your address; I will call to see you."
"Oh! you are very kind, monsieur; but--when a doctor puts himself out to
call, it costs more than when one goes to see him."
"Never fear; it won't cost you any more, for it won't cost anything."
"Oh! you are very good! And you won't forget to come?"
"If your bruise was a mere trifle, I might forget you; but it's serious
enough to prevent my neglecting it. I will come to see you."
"This is my address, monsieur: Annette--Rue Rochechouart, corner of Rue
Bellefond."
"Just Annette?"
"That's all, monsieur; when a girl has been foolish, she ought not to
bear her parents' name."
"Here, my child, here are your prescriptions. Be careful to follow my
directions. Don't tire yourself, and be good. It's a bore, I know, but
it is necessary for your safety. I will see you in a few days."
The girl had rebuttoned her dress and was about to leave the room.
"Have you seen Monsieur Bouqueton since?" I asked.
"Oh, no, monsieur! the monster! If I should see him, I believe I should
faint with fright."
"But what about your young lover? Didn't he promise to avenge you, when
he found out what had happened?"
"Oh, yes! he is going to square accounts with him, if he ever meets him.
But he's a thoughtless fellow, my lover is! He says that one day, but
forgets all about it the next."
"Well, mademoiselle, I promise you that you shall be avenged; I promise
you that Monsieur--Bouqueton shall receive sooner or later the
punishment that his treatment of you deserves. If your lover doesn't
administer it, I myself will undertake to do it."
"You, monsieur? Why, do you know Monsieur Bouqueton?"
"I never saw the man, but I know who he is. I tell you again--you shall
be avenged."
"Oh! mon Dieu! monsieur, I am not very vindictive; just let me get well,
and I won't think any more about that old villain.--I have the honor to
salute you, monsieur le medecin!"
"I expected that you were to witness an amusing consultation," said
Balloquet, after Annette had gone; "for these girls come to see us so
often for mere trifles. But, unluckily, I was mistaken. That poor
creature made my heart ache, her injury is so serious; I anticipate the
worst--terrible suffering, and death."
"Poor girl! What a punishment for her sins! What a ghastly result of
idleness, of indolence! I will not say, of coquetry, for there was
nothing in her dress to indicate that she has ever been kept."
"Is it true that you know this infamous blackguard who kicked her in the
breast?"
"Yes; his name is not Bouqueton; that is a name he assumes to cover up
his escapades."
"Look you, my dear fellow, if ever you need my help in thrashing that
scoundrel, you will afford me a very great pleasure, and I beg you not
to forget me. I am a good-for-naught, I admit; I love all the women
whose physique makes them worth the trouble of loving; I deceive them
without scruple, because they pay me back in my own coin. In that
respect, I fancy you are not unlike me. But to strike a woman, to
inflict bodily suffering on a weak creature to whom we have owed the
most delicious of joys!--oh! that is infamous, execrable! No infidelity
can excuse such barbarous conduct!"
"You are quite right, Balloquet. Remember the two lines that have never
grown old, despite their antiquity:
"'Let shallow fops cry out, and fools lament;
The honest man, deceived, departs and says no word.'
Au revoir, Balloquet! you will let me know about the poor girl, won't
you?"
"To be sure! I will call on you and give you my address, when I have
one."
XXVIII
A WORD OF ADVICE.--AN ASSIGNATION
It was cold, but the weather was superb. On leaving Balloquet, the whim
seized me to take a turn about the garden of the Tuileries. I found many
people in the garden. Fashionably attired ladies, well supplied with
furs and warm cloaks, were seated along the main avenue, near the
Terrasse des Feuillants. I glanced at them without stopping, but with
the pleasure that one has in looking at flowers when one walks through a
flower garden.
Suddenly I felt an involuntary thrill; I had recognized Madame
Sordeville, but not until I was almost face to face with her. I was
about to look the other way, when I saw another familiar face beside
Armantine's: Madame Dauberny was sitting with her friend. They had seen
me, and both had their eyes fixed on me. To pretend not to see them was
impossible, and I raised my hat.
Frederique barely moved her head, still looking at me, but maintaining
the grave and almost frigid expression which she had adopted with me. It
was not so with Madame Sordeville; she smiled upon me most affably, and
said in her sweetest voice, as she pointed to a vacant chair by her
side:
"Ah! is it you, Monsieur Rochebrune? I supposed that you had gone
abroad, it is so long since we saw you. Pray sit down a moment with us.
As we must depend upon chance for meeting you, you will surely give us a
few moments."
"If monsieur is in a hurry, why do you insist upon detaining him?" said
Frederique, sharply. "For my part, I have never understood how anyone
could compel a person to break an appointment wholly as a matter of
courtesy."
But I had already seated myself beside Madame Sordeville, for I could
not resist the charm of her smile. All my resolutions vanished before
that smile, and I replied:
"I have time to stop; and even if I had any business on hand, I should
be too happy to postpone it for such a pleasure."
Frederique said nothing; she sat erect in her chair, with her head
thrown back a little, so that I could not see her face; but, as a
compensation, I was able to look at Armantine to my heart's content, for
she turned to me and said, with the same charmingly amiable expression:
"Why have you abandoned us so entirely, monsieur? Our house must have
offered you very little attraction. Indeed, I can easily believe that
our small parties are not very amusing; and yet, I had imagined that you
would enjoy yourself there. I was very foolish, was I not?"
"No, madame; you were quite right. But urgent business----"
"Oh! don't talk like that, monsieur; you know perfectly well that we
don't believe anything of the sort. You have found more entertainment
with others, and you have been very sensible to give them the
preference."
"You know that that is not true, madame."
"Know it, monsieur? How do you expect me to know anything, except that
you suddenly ceased to come to us? It seems to me that I could not very
well ask you the reason. I was talking with Frederique about you a
moment ago."
"What! you thought of me, madame?"
"Yes," murmured Frederique, swaying back and forth on her chair;
"Armantine was saying that you sang ballads beautifully."
Madame Sordeville nudged her friend; I believe, indeed, that she
pinched her. As for myself, being not at all wounded by that malicious
remark, I hastened to reply:
"If I had any pretension to be considered a singer, madame, what you
have just said might mortify me; but as it has never occurred to me to
hold myself out as anything of the sort, I will be the first to laugh
with you over my performance at Madame Sordeville's."
"Mon Dieu! Monsieur Rochebrune, I have no idea why Frederique said that;
I don't think that she did it to laugh at you, for, after all, it may
happen to anyone not to be in condition for singing--to have trouble
with his throat;--and he may sing perfectly well another time."
"He takes his revenge," said Frederique, in an undertone. "'This play is
by a clever man who will take his revenge sooner or later.'--That's the
consecrated phrase of newspaper critics after a play has failed."
"You seem to be very ill-disposed toward me, madame," I said, trying to
catch a glimpse of Madame Dauberny's face; but I could not succeed.
"I, monsieur? Not in the least; I am joking, that's all. I am not one of
those people whose feelings are changed by a false note."
Armantine seemed ill at ease, and hastened to change the subject. We
talked about indifferent matters, but our eyes were not indifferent.
Madame Dauberny did not utter a word. Was she angry with me? did she
still bear me a grudge? Surely it was a long while for a kiss to rankle!
I was almost grieved by Frederique's treatment of me, but Armantine made
me forget it by the amiable way in which she talked with me. I had never
seen her show so much pleasure in being with me. However, I realized
that I must not wear my welcome out, so I took leave of them.
"Shall I still have to depend on chance meetings for a glimpse of you?"
asked Madame Sordeville, as she answered my salutation.
"No, madame; I shall not again wait for chance to serve me, as it might
not always be so favorable."
Frederique nodded slightly in acknowledgment of my bow, but not a word,
not a smile.
"Upon my word," thought I, "she's very sensitive for a _gaillarde_!"
Armantine, I had been told, was a flirt; and, indeed, I had been several
times in a position to judge that it was not safe to rely on the hopes
she aroused. But, without flattering myself that I could cure her of
that failing, it was possible that she might love me. After all, I had
never yet met a perfect woman; in truth, I had never sought one. In
short, that lady had turned my head again by her glances and her smiles,
and I had already forgotten the way she treated me at her two
receptions; the resolution I had formed not to expose myself again to
the risk of being made the plaything of a coquette did not hold out
against the allurements she had practised on me. Mon Dieu! why should we
keep our resolutions in love, when we have no resolution at all in
respect to the most serious matters?
On the day following this meeting, I could contain myself no longer, and
I made a careful toilet with the purpose of calling on Madame
Sordeville; for I had noticed that she attached some importance to the
costumes of her guests. That was another pardonable foible in a woman
who thought constantly of dress, and who believed, in all probability,
that everybody agreed with her as to the momentous nature of the
subject.
I was preparing to go out, when Pomponne brought me a letter which had
just been handed to the concierge with the request that it be delivered
to me at once.
I did not know the writing; in such cases, the first thing one does
after breaking the seal is to look at the signature. I saw at the foot
of the page: _Frederique_.
What! Madame Dauberny writing to me! I lost no further time in reading
the letter.
"You are probably intending to go to Madame Sordeville's. Do not go
there, do not go to that house again; this is the best advice I can
give you. If you are really desirous to see Armantine, if your love
for her has revived, thanks to the coquetries she lavished upon you
yesterday, see her elsewhere than at her own house. I write you
these lines because I remember our pleasant intimacy, which was of
short duration, but which has left in my heart marks of its
passage. So, trust me and take my advice. I should consider that I
insulted you if I should ask you not to mention this warning.
"FREDERIQUE."
The contents of that letter seemed to me most extraordinary. I read it
over several times, but could not understand it. Frederique urged me not
to go to Madame Sordeville's, but she gave me no reason, no hint, as to
the purpose of that warning. It could be nothing more than a freak, the
result of momentary ill humor with her friend. I was much perplexed by
the letter, but I had no idea of following the advice contained therein.
Indeed, for some time past, Madame Dauberny had treated me so strangely,
she had been so cold to me, that I found it hard to believe in that
recrudescence of friendship of which she spoke in her letter. If she
meant the warning seriously, why did she not come and speak to me
herself? She had told me several times that she had no more hesitation
in calling on a young man than on a friend of her own sex.
And so, without giving another thought to Frederique's advice, I went at
once to Madame Sordeville's.
I found Armantine in her dainty boudoir, surrounded by flowers and
embroidery.
I do not know whether she expected me, but it seemed to me that her
dress and her coiffure were even more coquettish than usual. Probably I
was mistaken, and it was because I was not accustomed to gaze upon her
charms that they produced that effect on me.
I was welcomed with extreme cordiality. Armantine had her merry,
sarcastic, and melancholy moods. On the day in question, she seemed
almost sentimental; she laughed less frequently than usual, but I
considered her the more fascinating so.
She gave me her hand and bade me sit beside her, saying:
"This is delightful! It hasn't taken you long to keep your promise this
time."