believe, and trousers too, eh?"
"Yes; one must dress decently."
"We think of amusing ourselves, Monsieur Chamoureau, that is true; but
it's not a crime. And you yourself, if you could divert your thoughts in
our company, where would be the harm?"
"I, divert my thoughts! Ah! Monsieur Edmond, when a man has met with
such a loss as mine, there is no possible distraction. It is all over; I
must bid pleasure adieu forever."
"Forever! that's a terribly long time. It's two months already since you
lost your wife."
"Two months and four days, monsieur; and it seems to me as if it were
yesterday. Ask Freluchon if I didn't tell him so when I dined with him
to-day."
"You did; you said it while we were eating that lobster with Marengo
sauce, that was so good."
"A little too much garlic, my friend, a little too much garlic; it was
pretty well seasoned, but you can get it even better at Javault's on Rue
de Rivoli, opposite the Hôtel de Ville."
"You think that it's better there?"
"Oh! I am sure of it, my dear fellow! that's an excellent restaurant.
And when you happen to want a truffled snipe _à la provençale_, just
order it in the morning when you go out to walk; it will be all ready
for you at six o'clock, and you can tell me what you think of it."
"You seem to know the good places, Monsieur Chamoureau."
"What would you have? my knowledge goes back to the time of my marriage;
Eléonore liked good things to eat and we often dined at
restaurants--with Freluchon. He always went with us; my wife liked to
have him because he knew all about wines and I knew very little. My wife
would say: 'If Freluchon doesn't come with us, we shall have some
wretched madeira.'--But he never refused to come, the dear fellow."
"It was a pleasure to me."
"To be sure, where my wife was, one could never be bored; she had so
much wit!"
"Ah! she was agreeable, was she?"
"Agreeable! Eléonore! Why, monsieur, she was a very superior woman--a
regular bluestocking! She could have written her own memoirs if she had
wanted to; but she wouldn't do it, she was too bright for that. She
just sparkled with fun, with imagination. I shall never find another
woman like her, never! never! What a loss I have sustained! I can never
be consoled; when I lost her, I lost all!"
Monsieur Chamoureau drew his handkerchief again and began to weep.
"Come, come, Monsieur Chamoureau," said Edmond, "you must be
reasonable!"
"It's too much for me, my dear friend. I feel that I am no longer of any
account on earth, bereft of my Eléonore!"
Freluchon seized the tongs and began to stir the fire, saying:
"Chamoureau, do you remember the trick she played on an old lady one
day?"
"Ah, yes! at Saint-Cloud!"
"At Saint-Cloud, just so; it was at a restaurant, one very hot day in
summer."
"Yes, yes; there was only one small salon with two tables vacant."
"That's right. Eléonore--I mean your wife----"
"Mon Dieu! that makes no difference, it wasn't worth while to correct
yourself. You were intimate enough with us to call her Eléonore.--Go
on."
"When we entered the small salon, your wife noticed the grimace and the
disdainful expression which our appearance called forth from an old lady
covered with jewels and laces, who occupied the other table."
"Yes, yes, she noticed everything, Eléonore did! What an eye!--Go on."
"Your wife asked the waiter in an undertone who that person was who put
on so many airs, and the waiter replied:
"'She's a very rich lady, who has a carriage below. Sometimes she comes
here to dine all alone, and she usually has a private room; but as they
were all taken to-day, they put her in here, where she wanted to be
alone just the same. She's very angry because we put somebody in with
her; although we assured her that they were very nice people. She said
to me: "Serve them as quickly as you can, so that they won't stay
long."--But you mustn't disturb yourselves; stay as long as you choose.'
"'Never you fear,' said Eléonore--your wife; 'I'll wager that we will
stay longer than she will. Oho! indeed! so we offend that lady, do we?
that's a great pity! In that case, I propose to make myself at home.'
"With that, she took off her hat and shawl, and, at a sign from her, we
removed our coats. The old lady muttered between her teeth. After the
soup, Eléonore said to us: 'You are still too warm; pray take off your
waistcoats and cravats; we don't come into the country to be
uncomfortable.'"
"Yes, yes, I remember; we took off all those things. The old woman with
the jewels rapped angrily on the table with her fork. Ah! how amusing it
was!"
"Finally, at a sign from your wife, I put my hand to my belt, saying:
'Faith, my trousers are too tight! With your permission?'
"At that the old woman jumped from her chair as if she were moved by a
spring, upsetting her plate and glass and smashing everything on the
table, and rushed from the room, crying: 'What an outrage! they're going
to make savages of themselves! It is shocking! it is frightful!'"
"And meanwhile, we three--Ha! ha! ha! we nearly died laughing."
"Your wife was almost helpless!"
"With good reason. When I think of it--Ha! ha! what a joke! Ha! ha! ha!
I can still see that old woman when she thought Freluchon was going to
appear in his shirt! Ha! ha! ha!"
When he saw Chamoureau laughing with all his might, Edmond began to
believe that the widower's grief was less incurable than he had hitherto
supposed.
But Eléonore's husband soon ceased to laugh and began to sigh once more,
saying:
"You can understand, Monsieur Edmond, that one couldn't be bored in the
company of so clever a woman."
"Yes, I can understand it."
"The fact is, that with her there was a constant fire of bons mots,
sallies and repartees, eh, Freluchon?"
"That's so; in conversation she had the knack of forcing one to be
agreeable; she imparted her own wit to others."
"Exactly! So that now there's a void in my life, which I shall never
succeed in filling, alas!"
"I beg your pardon, but with time, the greatest griefs are allayed."
"Time won't have any effect on mine. Oh, no! I can feel it in the depths
of my soul. Dear Eléonore! O God! O God! hi! hi! hi!"
And Monsieur Chamoureau produced his handkerchief again and put it to
his eyes.
"Your wife had many agreeable social accomplishments, also," said
Freluchon.
"I should say so! she had them all!"
"She sang very well."
"That is to say, she had a ravishing voice, a voice which would not have
been out of place at the Opéra-Comique."
"There was one song in particular that she used to sing so sweetly. It
was----"
"Oh! I know what you mean! it was the song from La Fanchonnette."
And Monsieur Chamoureau began to sing:
"La! la! la Fanchonnette
Vous chantera landerirette;
La! la! la Fanchonnette
Vous chantera landerira!
Ah! ah! ah! ah!"
"Oh! she used to sing that roulade differently from that," said
Freluchon; "she marked her notes. Listen! like this:
"Ah!--ah!--éh!--éh!
Oh!--oh! oh!--éh! éh!--ah! ah!"
"That's so. But that last roulade--Listen! I will sing it as she did:
"Oh!------ oh!--"
"Exactly! it was just like that."
"And then her air from _Les Fraises_--how she could sing that! Listen,
Freluchon:
"Ah! qu'il fait donc bon,
Qu'il fait donc bon
Cueillir la fraise
Au bois de Bagneux,
Quand on est deux,
Quand on est deux!"
"Excellent! I imagine I am listening to your wife!"
Chamoureau continued:
"Mais quand on est trois,
Quand on est trois,
Mamzelle Thérèse!
C'est bien ennuyeux,
On est bien mieux
Quand on est deux!"
"Perhaps I haven't the words just right, but I'll swear to the tune."
"Ah! qu'il fait donc bon,
Qu'il fait donc bon
Cueillir la fraise--"
"Yes, yes, we know that," said Edmond, who was beginning to have enough
of Chamoureau's singing; but he immediately resumed:
"And the air from _Galathée_, which Madame Ugalde sang so
beautifully--how well Eléonore sang it!
"Déjà dans la coupe profonde
Tout s'éclaire d'un nouveau jour
J'y vois les caprices du monde--"
"Sapristi! is he never going to stop singing?" said Edmond in an
undertone to his friend, who had turned his head away to laugh. "For
heaven's sake, make him keep quiet a moment!"
"Ah! that will be hard, my boy. When a man who has lost his wife begins
to sing, there's no reason why he should stop--I say, Chamoureau, we
know that tune, too!"
But Chamoureau did not hear; he was shouting at the top of his voice:
"Verse encore!
Verse encore!"
The two young men were compelled to listen to the whole of the
selection, to which Monsieur Chamoureau added some impossible roulades.
When he finally ceased, Freluchon said to him:
"Do you know, Chamoureau, you have a most surprising voice for a
widower!"
"Oh! I sang much better when my wife was alive. We often sang duets
together; there was one she was especially fond of."
"Great heaven!" muttered Edmond, "does he propose now to sing duets all
by himself?" And to change the subject, he said: "Monsieur Chamoureau,
have you been to any of the balls during this Carnival?"
"To balls! I!" exclaimed the widower, resuming his grief-stricken
expression. "Oh! my dear friend, you forget my sad plight, my
misfortune! Is it possible for me to think of amusing myself when my
heart is still full of my grief? when my eyes are always looking for
Eléonore--for I do look for her all the time, and there are moments when
I forget that I have lost her; then, when I hear a woman cry, or speak
rather loud--Eléonore always spoke loud--I turn round, thinking that
it's she; and then I realize that it was only a delusion and I have to
go back to the ghastly reality!--Ah! then, you see, I fall into such
utter prostration--the suffering is terrible! You do not suspect how I
suffer!"
Chamoureau took out his handkerchief and put it to his eyes.
"Yes, yes," said Edmond, "I see that you are quite inconsolable."
"Yes, monsieur, inconsolable is just the word; you could not express it
better!--O Eléonore! you may flatter yourself that you were dearly
loved--may she not, Freluchon?"
"Parbleu! of whom do you ask the question?"
"Ah! I do you justice, my dear friend; you regret her almost as keenly
as I do! But we will weep for her together--that affords some relief."
"I say, Chamoureau, how lovely your wife was at a ball! How well she
danced!"
"Why, my dear fellow, she was Terpsichore in person! she was so
light----"
"Yes, your wife was extremely light."[D]
"And so graceful! She didn't dance like other people; she had her own
peculiar way of dancing; many women tried to imitate her and failed."
"That is so; she had a way of doing the _avant deux_. I don't know what
the steps were, but it was fascinating."
"I know, I remember perfectly; look, Freluchon, I'll show you."
And Monsieur Chamoureau rose, assumed the third position, hummed a dance
tune and began to take steps and go through evolutions, saying:
"Wasn't it like this, eh? How's this for her little swagger, her
free-and-easy way?"
"Yes, yes, that's it."
"And the _poule_--I'll just show you. Come and be my vis-à-vis,
Freluchon--I can do it better. Forward, give the right hand. Tra la la
la--tra la la la--la la la. Cross over! balancez! salute your
partners!--Monsieur Edmond, come, be the lady--in the pastourelle
figure.--Tra la la--tra la la."
But Edmond was unable to comply; he was laughing too heartily at
Chamoureau's dancing.
The latter stopped at last, after a pirouette which he came very near
ending on his nose, and, seeing that Edmond was roaring with laughter,
he said:
"What on earth makes you laugh like that? Do you think I dance badly?"
"No, no! on the contrary, you leap like a chamois! But it occurred to me
as I watched you going through your steps, that you might imitate your
wife much better by going to the Opéra ball with us."
"Oh! upon my word!--you surely don't mean it, Monsieur Edmond! I, go to
the Opéra ball--with the burden of grief that I have on my heart!"
"Why, that is an additional reason: it will dissipate your grief."
"Oh! never! on the contrary, nothing can dissipate it, and----"
Freluchon planted himself in front of Chamoureau and said, assuming a
very solemn expression:
"Look you, my dear fellow, do you expect to fool us much longer with
your inconsolable grief?"
The widower stood thunderstruck and stammered:
"What's that! fool you! What does this mean? For what reason do you ask
me that, Freluchon?"
"For the reason that, when a man really has a great sorrow in his heart,
he doesn't laugh and sing and dance as you have just been doing; nor
does he know where one should go to eat snipe _à la provençale_."
"All that was in memory of Eléonore, and----"
"You regret your wife, I don't doubt that, and she was well worth the
trouble. But I tell you again that you ask nothing better now than to be
consoled, and above all to make new conquests."
"Little devil of a Freluchon! What an astonishing creature!--Do you
really think that I might make conquests?"
"I will go so far as to promise you some to-night, if you come to the
Opéra with us."
"To the Opéra ball with you, my boys! Far be it from me to say that it
would be distasteful to me, because, after all, one might as well listen
to reason; a man always ends by being consoled, a little sooner or
later; but the world is what I dread! What will the world say if I am
seen at the masquerade, so short a time after--my calamity? The world is
so unkind!"
"Parbleu! if you're afraid to be seen at the ball, there's one very
simple means of avoiding it--disguise yourself."
"True, that is an idea. But men don't wear masks, I believe."
"No, but with a fancy costume, a wig, a little rouge and a false nose,
I'll undertake to make you unrecognizable."
"Oh! if you'll answer for that, it's all right, I'll run the risk and go
with you. By the way, do you disguise yourselves?"
"Oh, no! it isn't worth while; we are not afraid to be recognized!"
"And where shall I find a costume?"
"I know a costumer where you will find a lot to choose from."
"You see, Freluchon, from the moment that I make up my mind to disguise
myself, I insist upon being well costumed; I want something that will
favor me, something--er--original."
"Let us go softly, Chamoureau, softly! Just now, you were afraid of
being recognized, and now you want to attract attention!"
"One may attract attention without being recognized. Suppose I should
dress as a woman?"
"The devil fly away with you! As a woman? Why, a man can't make
conquests in a woman's clothes; the fair sex dislikes us when we assume
its skirts, and it is quite right; when a man rigs himself up in that
way he is good for nothing but to arouse laughter or contempt."
"Yes, that's true; I won't dress as a woman; but how shall I dress,
then?"
"You can decide at the costumer's and dress there; it's within a few
steps of the Opéra."
"All right. But my clothes?"
"The costumer will send them to your concierge."
"Deuce take it! no; I can't have that; I have no desire to go home in a
Carnival costume, so that every one may know that I've been to the ball
in disguise. A business agent--and sometimes clients call very early in
the morning!--A Carnival costume would not inspire confidence."
"Well then, as I live very near the costumer's, let him send your
clothes to my apartment; then you can go there and put them on when you
please."
"Bravo! in that way, all the proprieties will be observed!"
"Come, messieurs, I trust that we may start now. It is nearly twelve
o'clock, and before Chamoureau is dressed----"
"Yes, yes! let us start. Forward, and _vive la gaieté_!"
"Faith, yes! one must divert one's thoughts; it's an excellent thing."
And the widower went dancing after the two young men.
IV
SCENES AT THE MASQUERADE
A few moments after the tall gentleman named Beauregard had left the box
where the pearl-gray domino and her friend were seated, a Spaniard
entered the ball-room, arm-in-arm with a short young man with a long,
thin nose. The reader will at once recognize Chamoureau and Freluchon.
The widower wore a costume resplendent with spangles and gold braid. His
cherry-colored doublet was heavily trimmed with very rich embroidery,
his white satin shortclothes, slashed with red, were decorated with
spangles and bows; a gold-fringed sash confined his waist; the flaps of
his huge yellow top-boots fell a little too near his ankles, his leg
being too deficient in calf to hold them in place. A large ruff about
his neck did duty as a cravat; over his shoulder was thrown a small
light-blue cloak, lined with white satin; and lastly, he wore on his
head a little velvet cap, also blue, covered with false jewels, and
surmounted by two enormous white plumes which drooped over the
cavalier's left shoulder. To complete his disguise, Chamoureau had
donned a brown wig with long curls falling over his neck. He had covered
his face with rouge, and, in addition, he wore a false nose to which a
pair of moustaches was attached, reaching from ear to ear.
All this formed such a unique whole that everyone in the room turned or
stopped short, in order to have a longer look at the Spaniard; and
Chamoureau, overjoyed by the effect he produced, and convinced that
everybody considered him magnificent, said in Freluchon's ear:
"How they stare at me! eh? I am very glad I chose this costume. I must
be superb; I read admiration in every eye! Say, Freluchon, am I not
superb?"
"It is a fact that you are well worth looking at; if you should make
them pay ten sous each, it would be none too much."
"Oh! you are always joking! But I don't see so rich a costume as mine in
the whole place; I am covered with spangles."
"It's enough to make one's eyes ache to look at you; you produce the
same effect as the sun!"
"Do my plumes float gracefully?"
"Like a swan on a lake."
"Is my cap well placed?"
"Like a vane on a steeple."
"There's nothing wrong but these infernal boots, which keep falling;
they are too big."
"It may be that your legs are too much like spindles."
"What a pity to be obliged to wear a false nose with all this!"
"Why is it a pity?"
"Dear me! it's easy to see that. As I am the possessor of rather an
attractive face, if I hadn't this false nose, I should be even more
fascinating in this costume, and I am sure that I should make conquests
in swarms."
"By Jove! that's true; I entirely forgot that you were a handsome man!"
"Still, my wife used to repeat it often enough: 'Ah! how handsome he is,
my Chamoureau!'"
"Yes, to the tune of the _Postilion de Longjumeau_.--But after all, you
know, you're under no compulsion to keep your false nose on, if you want
to take it off."
"Oh, no! the deuce! someone might recognize me then, and I should be
compromised!"
"Try to make a conquest with your nose."
"That's quite possible--Damn these boots!"
And Chamoureau halted to raise the flaps.
"So you are inclined to make a little acquaintance, my inconsolable
widower?" asked Edmond, who was walking beside Freluchon and had
overheard the Spaniard's last words.
"Oh! my dear Monsieur Edmond," he replied, after adjusting his boots,
"you will understand that my heart, my poor heart, will have no part in
it! Henceforth nothing will ever touch that; it is dead to love.
Eléonore has carried with her all the sentiment it could possibly
contain--dear Eléonore!"
"Are you going to shed tears, Chamoureau? they will spoil your rouge."
"No, no, I said that just as I would have said anything else."
At that moment a man dressed as a Swiss woman, with long locks hanging
down his back and a number of little brooms in his hand, halted in front
of Chamoureau, crying:
"Ah! my hearties! what do I see? A sunbeam disguised as a Spaniard! How
brilliant it is! how it gleams! Are you just from Peru, my ducky? It is
at the very least _Le Cidre_ or Gusman with a sheep's foot, who knows no
obstacle! Isn't he fine, the _coco_! But while you had the cash,
Gringalet, you should have bought some calves, for you lack 'em
altogether! and your parapetted boots will fall on the floor!"
The crowd had stopped and formed a circle to listen to the Swiss woman
who had attacked the Spaniard.
Chamoureau, being rather disconcerted, began by making sure that his
false nose was secure, then muttered:
"If I have no calves, it's fair to presume that I don't care for them."
"How now! is that all you've got to say for yourself, you poor thing?
Did you spend all your wit to buy your costume? What a simple air the
great clown has! He must be some keeper of turkeys who's been
dismissed, and is entirely out of his element when he's no longer
surrounded by his flock."
Chamoureau, sorely vexed to be called a keeper of turkeys, retorted
sourly:
"Since when have the Swiss been fishwomen, and presumed to insult people
like this?"
"Bravo, Chamoureau!" said Freluchon, "that's not bad; go on; drive the
nail home!"
"Since they have sold little brooms for flies. Ah! so you're getting
angry, Rodrique!--Come, Rodrique, have you any pluck? We'll fight a
duel, I with my broom and you with your nose; is it a bargain? You'll
have the advantage, as your nose is longer than my broom."
The roars of laughter from the crowd increased Chamoureau's vexation; he
hastily dropped Freluchon's arm, for he was laughing louder than the
rest, and gliding into a throng of masks, tried to overtake Edmond, who
was hurrying after a little _débardeur_ in whom he fancied that he
recognized his grisette Amélia. As he was not at all desirous to have
Chamoureau always hanging on his arm, he said to him:
"Why did you leave Freluchon?"
"Because he laughed like a fool at the absurd nonsense that a man
dressed as a Swiss woman has been spouting at me for the last few
minutes; he is a low creature and said the coarsest things to me. The
blood was beginning to go to my head, and I left the place, because I
might have allowed my anger to carry me beyond bounds."
"For heaven's sake, my dear Monsieur Chamoureau, do you think it
necessary to take offence at all the nonsense maskers say to you? If you
do, you ought not to come to the ball, and above all things you
shouldn't disguise yourself."
"That's so, of course; you are quite right. I was wrong to attach any
importance to that foolish talk, it's a Carnival scene and nothing more.
Still, I have an idea that Freluchon knew that Swiss woman.--My nose
makes me terribly warm, especially because of the moustaches."
"Take them off."
"No, I'm afraid of being recognized.--Drat these boots!--there are some
very pretty women here--they're too large, they'll fall down over my
heels, and I shall end by walking on them."
"Take them off."
"What's that? you want me to take off my boots, and walk about in my
stockings?"
"Why, yes, rather than be discommoded."
"I am not discommoded, for I dance in them."
"What are you complaining about, then?"
"My dear Monsieur Edmond, it seems to me that you don't listen very
closely to what I say; you're not interested in our conversation; are
you looking for someone here?"
"Parbleu! at a masked ball one should always be looking for someone."
"Ah! indeed! well, that is an idea; but who in the devil is there for me
to look for?"
"I thought that I recognized Amélia in a pretty little _débardeur_ who
ran away from me. Yes, it must have been she."
"Who's Amélia?"
"A very pretty flower-maker; an animated, saucy face, eyes full of fire,
a charming figure, and nineteen years at most."
"Fichtre! how exactly that would meet my views--longing to love, as I
do; for at my age, you understand, it makes no difference how much a man
may suffer from grief and regret, nature, powerful, fruitful nature
always cries out within us and makes us understand that we are not on
earth to give all our thoughts to the dead.--Ah! there goes a domino who
looked into the very whites of my eyes. What a look! there were a great
many things in that look.--We were saying that your Amélia is very
attractive, and only nineteen; is she free?"
"Yes, since she left me."
"How long since you parted?"
"This morning."
"That's not long; so it's to be hoped that she hasn't replaced you yet."
"I wouldn't swear to it."
"If she is still free, and we find her, will you permit me to apply for
the vacancy?"
"I permit you to do whatever you choose, absolutely."
"Ah! you're very good, on my word! you're not like Freluchon, who will
never turn his ex-mistresses over to me; and yet it seems to me that he
owes me that much.--A little _débardeur_, you say? what color? what
sort of head-dress?"