him! Oh! you're too good to me, Charles; you ought to beat me--yes, beat
me like an old carpet; for I cheated you also about going to Besancon.
It is true that I had had a letter from Morillot--you saw the letter,
you know; but when you gave me four hundred francs for the journey, I
didn't go as I had promised you! I allowed myself to be led away by some
of those villainous loafers whom we are foolish enough to call
_friends_, when we ought rather to call them _enemies_. What sort of
friends are they who can do nothing but drink and carouse and raise the
devil in wine shops, who pass their lives in idleness and make sport of
steady, hard-working mechanics, and who never cease trying to make us do
all sorts of foolish things, so that we may end by being as worthless as
they are? With friends like that, a man ought to smash their ribs the
first time they give him bad advice; I'm sure that would lessen the
number of vagrants that are taken to the Prefecture every week. But
that's all over; I'll take my oath, Charles, by all that's holy, that
it's all over this time! You won't be obliged again to--push me, as you
did just now."
"I believe you, Ballangier; let us forget all that. But tell me--how did
you succeed in getting rid of your creditor?"
"Piaulard? Oh, yes! now you remind me of it, it is strange; for I didn't
pay him. Well, after you threw me on the ground, where I lay for some
time, all dazed like--not that I was hurt at all, but I was dazed by the
effect I felt inside of me; I can't describe it--at last I got up, and
found everybody had gone, Piaulard with the rest, for I didn't see him
again. It's a strange thing, sure enough. I stayed a long while right in
the same place, like a dazed man; I don't know what I was thinking
about--that is to say, I was looking for you; I was determined to see
you and ask your pardon.--Ah! now I remember--a lady came and spoke to
me."
"A lady?"
"Yes, yes! Why, I forgot all about her!"
"What was her appearance? Try to remember; draw her portrait for me."
"She was dressed in style, and I think she was rather tall; as for her
face, I didn't pay any attention to it. I was still looking for you; I
was like a madman; I didn't know what I was doing, but I was calling
your name, and I think I was weeping too."
"But what did this lady say? what did she want of you?"
"Wait a minute; I don't just remember what she said. She tried to
comfort me, and then--yes, I think she offered me money."
"Money?"
"Yes. I don't know what for, but she said: 'Take this;' and then, faith!
I don't know what else she said. All I know is that I told her to let me
alone; she interfered with my looking for you. When she saw that I
wouldn't answer her, she left me."
"And you didn't take her money?"
"Oh, no! indeed I didn't!"
"That was right, Ballangier; you did right to refuse. Didn't she say
anything else to you?"
"Mon Dieu! I didn't listen to her at all. I was looking all the time to
see if I could see you pass, and I just said to her: 'Oh! let me look
for Charles; you prevent my finding him!'--And she went off."
"Poor fellow! Here, take this; pay your creditor--you owe him
twenty-nine francs, I believe--that is, if someone hasn't already taken
it upon herself to pay him, as I am inclined to think."
"Someone? Nonsense! who could it be?"
"A person whom you don't know, but I do. However, you must look up this
Piaulard, and find out about it. Then go to work, straighten yourself
out, make yourself a good workman, and come to see me if you need my
help."
"Ah! Charles, I don't deserve to have you make any more sacrifices for
me; I am forever annoying and distressing you! Keep the money; I must
learn to earn my living at last."
"You will succeed, as soon as you have sincerely made up your mind to do
it, I don't doubt. But, meanwhile, I want you to pay your debts and not
be left without anything. So, take this; I insist upon it! If by means
of your work you should become rich, and I should need to be helped, I
would accept without blushing what you offered me."
"What you say puts some heart and courage into me," cried Ballangier,
grasping my hand as he spoke. "Help you some day! _Cre coquin!_ I should
be a proud and happy man then!"
Luckily, my purse was well filled, for I had come out with anticipations
of an intrigue. I put eighty francs in Ballangier's hand. The money had
been intended for another purpose; but I began to think that it was
better employed so.
I said adieu to Ballangier, who reiterated his oath to turn over a new
leaf, and I went home.
I had an idea that it was Madame Dauberny who had paid Piaulard and
offered money to Ballangier. Why did she do it? A strange woman that,
whom I would have liked right well to understand.
XXX
CONFIDENCE IS OF SLOW GROWTH
Madame Sordeville's behavior after my encounter with Ballangier left me
in a morose and melancholy humor, which I was unable to overcome for
several days. I would have been glad to see Madame Dauberny, to divert
my thoughts. If, while losing my hold upon a pretty woman, I had found a
sincere friend, I certainly should not have lost by the exchange. But
how was I to see Frederique? Where could I meet her? Surely I could not
go to her house! Strangely enough, I had succeeded in closing the doors
of both those ladies; and what had I done to bring about that result?
After all, I had no proof that it was Frederique who had paid Monsieur
Piaulard. To write to her on that subject would be a great blunder, even
if I were not mistaken; so I concluded to wait until chance should bring
us together.
One morning Pomponne appeared, with the mysterious air which he deemed
it fitting to assume, even when he brought me my coat. He leaned over me
and said in a low tone:
"Monsieur, that woman who came here some time ago, with something in her
apron that I couldn't see--she is outside; she wants to know if she can
speak to monsieur."
"What woman? I don't know what you're talking about."
"She said: 'Ask your master if he will see Madame Potrelle.'"
"Madame Potrelle! Idiot! why didn't you tell me her name at once?
Certainly I will see her; show her in."
Pomponne seemed sorely perplexed; but he went to the door and said:
"You may come in, Madame Potrelle!"
The concierge from Rue Menilmontant made her appearance, courtesying
profusely. She had her apron rolled up against her breast as before;
which fact led me to think that she had again taken the opportunity to
give one of her cats a little outing.
I motioned to Monsieur Pomponne to withdraw; which he did regretfully,
after a piercing glance at the concierge's apron.
"Excuse me for disturbing you, monsieur," said Madame Potrelle,
unrolling her apron, in which, instead of a cat, I discovered several
waistcoats and remnants of material. "I've brought back the work you
gave my young tenant; it's been done more'n three weeks now; and, you
see, when I found you didn't come again---- Do you know it's more'n two
months since you sent Madame Landernoy this work?"
"What? is it really so long as that, Madame Potrelle? I am too negligent
altogether. But I have had many things on my mind since, and I may as
well admit frankly that I had forgotten my waistcoats."
"Oh! you needn't make any apologies for that, monsieur. _Pardi!_ a young
man in society must enjoy himself; that's easy to understand. And then,
you know, as a usual thing, the seamstresses carry the work back to
their customers--the customers don't go after it. That's why I says to
our young mother this morning----"
"First of all, how is she? how is the child coming on?"
"Very well, monsieur; little Marie's rather delicate; she's slight, like
her mother; but she's growing like a little mushroom. As for Madame
Landernoy--you know, you saw her before the baby was born; well, you
wouldn't know her to-day. Her cheeks and lips are red again, and her
figure's slender and her eyes clear. Oh! she's mighty pretty now, I tell
you!"
"So much the better, I am sure!"
"Well, no, monsieur; it ain't so much the better! in fact, she don't
like to have people call her pretty."
"Why so, Madame Potrelle? I shall never believe that a woman is sorry to
be attractive."
"Well, that's the way it is with her, monsieur; because, since she's got
to be so fresh and pretty, it's begun all over again."
"What has begun again?"
"Oh! mon Dieu! the young popinjays running after her."
"When a woman doesn't answer the men who follow her, they soon leave her
in peace."
"Sometimes, monsieur, sometimes. But some of 'em stick like leeches.
Still, as you say, she don't answer 'em, and when they come and apply to
me, as a middle-aged man did not long ago--you ought to see how I stand
'em off! He offered me ten francs, the blackguard, to let him go
upstairs and say two words to Madame Landernoy; he was sure she wouldn't
be sorry to have him come; he had a pretty proposal to make to her.
'Monsieur,' says I, standing on my footwarmer to make myself more
imposing, 'you take that young woman for what she ain't; and if you
don't clear out this minute, I'll throw two cats at your head.' He saw
that I had Bribri in one hand and his brother in the other, and he
didn't ask for his change. He ran, and I guess he's running still."
"Very well done, Madame Potrelle! I see that your cats may serve a
useful purpose on occasion."
"My cats! Why, monsieur, there's Mahon, the oldest one--he's every bit
as good as a Newfoundland."
"Did the man you speak of come again?"
"Never. As you said, you can sweep out such fellows as that very quick.
But about a week ago, the poor woman came into the house in a terrible
fright, trembling all over. She rushed into my place, and said: 'Protect
me! don't let him come in here, or I am lost!"
"Mon Dieu! whom had she seen? Her seducer, probably; that wretch who
treated her so horribly!"
"I don't think it was him; for his name's Ernest, and that wasn't the
name she said. 'He dares to pursue me again, the monster!'--Anyway, she
had a terrible scare, for she hasn't dared to put her foot outdoors
since that day."
"And she said nothing else?"
"No, monsieur; when I tried to ask her what had scared her so, she said:
'Oh! don't say anything more about it, Madame Potrelle; he's a villain
who did me a great injury; but you mustn't let anybody come up to my
room, and I shan't go out again for some time.'--Now, monsieur, I'm
coming back to your waistcoats. As I have a shrewd knack of guessing
when the waters are low--that is to say, when money is scarce, without
being told, I says this morning to our young mother, while she was
dandling the little girl on her lap: 'But,' I says,'you have some work
here that you finished long ago: Monsieur Rochebrune's waistcoats.'--I
took the liberty of mentioning your name, monsieur, because I know it
from you giving me your address; and you didn't say anything about
keeping it secret."
"No, Madame Potrelle; I told you that I had no reason for concealing my
name, for I have no evil designs. Go on."
"'The waistcoats are done, that's true,' says Madame Landernoy, 'but I
don't know if the gentleman will be satisfied. I did my very best; but
as he don't come to get them----' 'Well,' I says, 'as he don't come to
get them, why shouldn't we take 'em to him? It seems to me, that would
be more polite, for he's rather a dandy, and he wouldn't want to carry a
bundle.'--'Perhaps you're right,'she says, thoughtful like; 'but one
thing's certain; I won't go to that gentleman's house.'--Do you see?
she's still afraid--yes, she's still afraid of you! In spite of all I
could say about you, she couldn't believe you would take an interest in
her without some motive. You mustn't be angry, monsieur, for, as the
proverb says: 'A burnt child dreads the fire.'"
"It doesn't anger me at all, Madame Potrelle; the better one knows the
world, the more fully one realizes how hard it is to inspire confidence.
That is sad, like almost all truths."
"So, then, monsieur, I offered to bring you the waistcoats; she was more
than willing, and here I am. If monsieur wants to examine the
work--here's the pattern."
I looked at what the woman had brought me, and was perfectly amazed at
the exquisite quality of the work. I had intended the waistcoats for my
servant; but they were as fine as if they had come from one of our most
famous tailors.
"The buttonholes are pretty well made, seems to me," said the concierge;
"but perhaps monsieur don't agree with me?"
"Indeed I do, Madame Potrelle; and I can't understand how that young
woman can have succeeded so well with work that she isn't accustomed
to."
"Oh! _dame!_ it's because she was bound to satisfy monsieur. Now, you
must see if they fit you all right."
I tried on the waistcoats; we were compelled to admit that there was a
defect in the way they were cut; they gaped apart at the top. The poor
concierge walked round and round me, crying:
"I'm sure it's a small matter, just a little bit to be taken in
somewhere; but we must find out where. If our young woman could see 'em
on you, I'll bet she'd know in a minute what needs to be done."
"I should be very glad to go to her room and try them on; but she's so
afraid of me! No matter! I'll keep them as they are."
"No, monsieur, no; I don't propose to have her send you work that ain't
done right; you pay too well."
"By the way, how much do I owe for these?"
"I don't know, monsieur. Madame Landernoy's never made any before; so
she says: 'Let the gentleman pay what he thinks they're worth, and I'll
be satisfied.'"
"Four waistcoats, at twelve francs each, makes forty-eight francs."
"Oh! monsieur is joking! Twelve francs for making a waistcoat! You can't
mean that, monsieur! At that rate, all women would be waistcoat makers;
they can't get any such pay as that."
"You weary me with your scruples, Madame Potrelle; my tailor charges me
eighteen or twenty francs, sometimes more, for a waistcoat. With what I
paid for the material, these won't cost any more than that, and I
certainly don't propose to get them any cheaper."
"Sapristi! monsieur, tailors must do mighty well, then! All right, you
can pay that price, since that suits you; but, I tell you, I won't take
the money till they fit."
Thereupon the concierge walked toward the door.
"Where are you going, Madame Potrelle?"
"I'm going to tell our young woman she must fix over your waistcoats,
monsieur; that they're a gold mine, but that she's got to take 'em in a
little. In a word, I'm going to bring Madame Landernoy back with me.
What the devil! with me here, she won't be afraid of you eating her, I
fancy! To be on your guard is all right; but there's no need of making a
fool of yourself! I'll be back, monsieur."
"But your door, Madame Potrelle?"
"My cats are there--and my little niece."
The good woman went away, refusing to listen to my remonstrances. Would
she bring Mignonne back with her? I most sincerely hoped that the young
woman would not be annoyed thereat. My desire to know her better was due
solely to my wish to be of use to her. I was not in love with her.
Indeed, since Madame Sordeville had treated me so shamefully, I did not
propose to love any woman. That was my intention, at least.
Madame Potrelle had been gone nearly two hours, and I was preparing to
go out, thinking that she would not return, when there came a gentle
ring at my door, and Pomponne soon appeared, still with his air of
mystery and walking on tiptoe, and said:
"Monsieur, it's the old woman who was here just now; she hasn't got
anything in her apron this time, but she's brought with her a young
woman--or demoiselle--who is very good-looking."
I could not help laughing at Monsieur Pomponne's reflections; but I
remembered Mignonne's extreme suspicion. It was essential that I should
assume a serious bearing, to banish from her mind any thought of
seduction. So that my expression was almost stern when I ordered
Pomponne to admit my visitors.
Madame Potrelle entered first. Mignonne came behind her, with a timid,
embarrassed air, in which one could read a serious and studied reserve.
The concierge had not exaggerated when she said that her tenant had
become a lovely woman. It was a long time since I had seen Mignonne, and
I am not sure that I should have recognized her. She was remarkable for
the refinement of her features, for the beauty of her coloring, which
was not red, but a delicate pink, perfectly in harmony with her white
skin; for her fair hair, which was neither colorless nor of too
pronounced a tone; and, lastly, for the genuine _blueness_ of her
eyes--a thing that is seldom seen, for most eyes that are called blue
are of any color you please except that.
And then, there was in Mignonne's whole aspect a touch of melancholy
that made her doubly interesting, because it was in no wise affected; it
seemed to me that everyone must, at sight of her, have a feeling of
sympathy for her. Perhaps it was because I was acquainted with her
misfortunes that I thought so. This much is certain: that, as I looked
upon her, I was touched, deeply moved, and that in my feelings there was
nothing resembling love, or the desires to which the sight of a pretty
girl often gives birth. There was a large element of respect in the
interest that she aroused in me.
"Excuse me, monsieur," said Madame Potrelle, pushing Mignonne in front
of her. "Here's Madame Landernoy; I told her there was something to be
done to your waistcoats, with which you are well satisfied, all the
same."
"I regret the trouble you have taken, madame. However, it affords me the
opportunity of congratulating you on the perfection of your work. I was
fortunate in having you consent to work for me."
I said this in a very cold tone and without fixing my eyes on Mignonne,
who seemed to grow a little bolder and replied:
"But your waistcoats don't fit, monsieur----"
"Oh! I think that it's a very small matter; you are not a tailor, and,
of course, you could not succeed in doing everything just right at the
first trial; but if you will allow me to try on one of them in your
presence----"
"_Pardi!_ of course you must try 'em on," cried the concierge; "there's
no other way to see what's wrong! and, after all, a waistcoat's
different from a pair of breeches!"
Mignonne lowered her eyes at Madame Potrelle's remark. I removed my coat
and put on one of the waistcoats. Mignonne had no choice but to come to
me and touch my chest and back, like a tailor taking my measure. But
while she was making her examination, I was careful not to look at her
once; so that she was somewhat reassured.
"I see what needs to be done, monsieur: the collar is too low; it's not
much to do, and then I think they'll fit very well. I will take them
away with me, and to-morrow----"
She hesitated, and I made haste to say:
"I shall not be here to-morrow, but that makes no difference; if you
bring the waistcoats back, be good enough to leave them with the
concierge; you need not take the trouble to come up."
"Yes, monsieur," she murmured, almost smiling, for she was beginning to
feel altogether at her ease. Madame Potrelle looked at her with a
triumphant expression.
I offered Mignonne the money that I owed her. She looked at it and said:
"What, monsieur, as much as that--for so little work? It's too much,
monsieur!"
"Madame," I said, rather sharply, "I have told Madame Potrelle what I
have to pay my tailor for a waistcoat. I do not intend to make you a
present; but, on the other hand, I don't propose to have anyone think
that I am trying to defraud a poor seamstress."
"Don't you go to work and make monsieur angry!" cried the concierge. "As
he's in the habit of paying that price, what's the use of vexing him and
putting him in a bad humor? you mustn't go against people's grain like
that!"
Mignonne said nothing; but she took the money I offered, and made a very
modest courtesy. For the first time she looked at me without a
suspicious expression in her eyes.
"Now," I said, "will you allow me to make you a proposition, madame? You
may accept it or not, as you think best. But, first of all, pray be
seated for a moment; and you too, Madame Potrelle."
The concierge did not wait to be urged. The younger woman made more ado
about it; her suspicions were reawakened. She waited to hear what I had
to say.
"I am a bachelor; I have none of the kind-hearted female relations, no
aunts or cousins, who condescend sometimes to cast an eye over a young
man's linen closet, where there is always something that needs mending.
Our clothes especially are sadly neglected; indeed, no care at all is
taken of them. The result is that we spend much more money than we need
to spend, which would not happen if some trustworthy person, some
skilful seamstress, like yourself, madame, would take charge of affairs.
This, then, is my proposition: that you should come once a week--with
Madame Potrelle--and inspect this chest of drawers in which my linen is
kept; carry away what may need to be mended, and bring it back when it
is done; in short, madame, that you should keep this part of my
establishment in order. If you are afraid of disturbing me, or of
finding company here, come about five o'clock in the afternoon, for I am
never at home at that time; the keys are always in these drawers, and my
servant will have orders to allow you to do as you please. That is what
I propose, madame. As for your compensation for the work, I fancy that
we shall have no difficulty on that subject."
Mignonne listened to me with close attention. Madame Potrelle was in
ecstasies; she could hardly keep her seat, and did nothing but cross and
uncross her legs. At last, after reflection, the young woman replied:
"Really, monsieur, I do not know how I have earned the confidence with
which you honor me. What you propose is a new proof of your kindness,
and----"
"No, no, madame; pray consider that, by undertaking this work, you will
do me a real service; you will bring order, and consequently economy,
into my housekeeping. So you see that I shall be your debtor. Well! do
you accept?"
"Does she accept!" cried Madame Potrelle, springing up as if she were
going to dance. "Why, who ever heard of refusing such an offer as that?
a thing that makes her sure of regular work; especially when she sees
that it's for a gentleman who--for someone who hasn't any desire
to--why, it's as plain as can be!"
"Yes, monsieur, I accept, and with gratitude," said Mignonne; "for I
have a child, and by giving the mother assurance of a living you benefit
the child no less."
I would have liked to shake hands with her; but I restrained myself, and
replied, with the same indifferent air:
"In that case, madame, it is all settled, and it rests with you to say
when you will enter upon your duties. You will have work enough, I
promise you, for it's a long time since my belongings have been put in
order."
"Then, monsieur, as I have nothing to do just now, I'll carry a bundle
of linen home with me, by your leave. I'll look it over at home, for I
have left my daughter with a neighbor, and I don't like to abuse her
good nature."
"That's so," said the concierge; "and I ain't very easy in my mind about
the actions of my twins and their sister."
"Do as you please, madame. Just open those drawers; you will find the
bed and table linen in this closet."
Mignonne opened one of the drawers in the commode, and hastily made up a
bundle, which she wrapped carefully in a handkerchief. She was still
engaged in that occupation, when I heard my doorbell, and a moment later
a familiar voice in the reception room.
"There's no need of announcing me, my boy; I'll go right in without
ceremony. A doctor may always go in."
At the same instant, the bedroom door opened and Balloquet appeared.
"Bonjour, my dear fellow!" he said; "I beg your pardon; I interrupt you,
perhaps. But if I intrude, tell me so, and I'll go away."
I had just taken Balloquet's hand, and told him to remain, when
Mignonne, who had made haste to tie up her bundle, and was about to
leave the room with Madame Potrelle, glanced at the new-comer and
suddenly changed color; then, trembling with agitation, she threw her
bundle on the floor, seized the old woman's arm, and cried:
"Come, come, madame! Let us go at once; I can't stay here another
minute! Oh! it's shameful! It was a trap!"
"Well, well! what makes you throw all that linen on the floor? Why don't
you carry it away?" murmured the old woman, aghast at Mignonne's action.
"I won't take the work. I refuse it! I'll never come here again, never!
never! Come, madame! let us go at once!"
As she spoke, the young woman ran to the door and went out, refusing to
listen to what her companion said; and she, utterly unable to understand
what she saw, decided to follow her, crying:
"What on earth's the matter with her? What's got into her? Refuse work,
when she needs it! Refuse the offers of an honorable man, who wishes her
nothing but good! Faith! it's sickening! Much good it does to take an
interest in folks! Excuse me, monsieur, I must follow her; but she's got
to explain all this. Excuse her, monsieur; it's some crazy idea she's
got in her head. Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! to refuse a gentleman like
monsieur--there's no sense in it!"
The concierge left the room at last. As for myself, I was so
thunderstruck by Mignonne's conduct that it had not occurred to me to
ask her for an explanation.