As Germinie was going down the servant's staircase one day, she heard
Adele's voice calling her over the banister and telling her to bring her
two sous' worth of butter and ten of absinthe.
"Oh! you can sit down a minute, you know you can," said Adele, when she
brought her the absinthe and the butter. "I never see you now, you'll
never come in. Come! you have plenty of time to be with your old woman.
For my part, I couldn't live with an Antichrist's face like hers! So
stay. This is the house without work to-day. There isn't a sou--madame's
abed. Whenever there's no money, she goes to bed, does madame; she stays
in bed all day, reading novels. Have some of this?"--And she offered her
her glass of absinthe.--"No? oh! no, you don't drink. You're very
foolish. It's a funny thing not to drink. Say, it would be very nice of
you to write me a little line for my dearie. Hard work, you know. I have
told you about it. See, here's madame's pen--and her paper--it smells
good. Are you ready? He's a good fellow, my dear, and no mistake! He's
in the butcher line as I told you. Ah! my word! I mustn't rub him the
wrong way! When he's had a glass of blood after killing his beasts, he's
like a madman--and if you're obstinate with him--Dame! why then he
thumps you! But what would you have? He does that to make him strong. If
you could see him thump himself on the breast--blows that would kill an
ox, and say: 'That's a wall, that is!' Ah! he's a gentleman, I tell you!
Are you thinking about the letter, eh? Make it one of the fetching kind.
Say nice things to him, you know--and a little sad--he adores that. At
the theatre he doesn't like anything that doesn't make him cry. Look
here! Imagine that you're writing to a lover of your own."
Germinie began to write.
"Say, Germinie! Have you heard? Madame's taken a strange idea into her
head. It's a funny thing about women like her, who can hold their heads
up with the greatest of 'em, who can have everything, hobnob with kings
if they choose! And there's nothing to be said--when one is like madame,
you know, when one has such a body as that! And then the way they load
themselves down with finery, with their tralala of dresses and lace
everywhere and everything else--how do you suppose anyone can resist
them? And if it isn't a gentleman, if it's someone like us--you can see
how much more all that will catch him; a woman in velvet goes to his
brain. Yes, my dear, just fancy, here's madame gone daft on that
_gamin_ of a Jupillon! That's all we needed to make us die of hunger
here!"
Germinie, with her pen in the air over the letter she had begun, looked
up at Adele, devouring her with her eyes.
"That brings you to a standstill, doesn't it?" said Adele, sipping her
absinthe, her face lighted up with joy at sight of Germinie's
discomposed features. "Oh! it is too absurd, really; but it's true, 'pon
my word it's true. She noticed the _gamin_ on the steps of the shop the
other day, coming home from the races. She's been there two or three
times on the pretence of buying something. She'll probably have some
perfumery sent from there--to-morrow, I think.--Bah! it's sickening,
isn't it? It's their affair. Well! what about my letter? Is it what I
told you that makes you so stupid? You played the prude--I didn't
know--Oh! yes, yes, now I remember; that's what it is--What was it you
said to me about the little one? I believe you didn't want anyone to
touch him! Idiot!"
At a gesture of denial from Germinie, she continued:
"Nonsense, nonsense! What do I care? The kind of a child that, if you
blew his nose, milk would come out! Thanks! that's not my style.
However, that's your business. Come, now for my letter, eh?"
Germinie leaned over the sheet of paper. But she was burning up with
fever; the quill cracked in her nervous fingers. "There," she said,
throwing it down after a few seconds, "I don't know what's the matter
with me to-day. I'll write it for you another time."
"As you like, little one--but I rely on you. Come to-morrow, then.--I'll
tell you some of madame's nonsense. We'll have a good laugh at her!"
And, when the door was closed, Adele began to roar with laughter: it had
cost her only a little _blague_ to unearth Germinie's secret.