impatient gesture, muttering:
"Aha! Monsieur Beauregard! Well, what did he want of me? what did he say
to you?"
"The gentleman seemed doubtful at first whether madame had really gone
out; he was about to come in without listening to me; but when I told
him that he could look into the salon and madame's bedroom, he didn't
come in, but went away, leaving word that he would come again."
"That person seems to be very unceremonious!" exclaimed Héloïse; "the
idea of his having the face to enter your apartment to see if you were
really there!"
"Oh! he's a very old acquaintance--an eccentric fellow; but he would do
well to spare me his visits; I confess that I hardly enjoy them. I had
not seen him for several years; I don't know what has possessed him
lately, and why he has taken to coming again.--Didn't he say anything
else, Mélie?"
"No, madame; he went away at the same time that Monsieur Chamoureau did,
and I saw them from the window walking away together and talking."
"Beauregard talking with Chamoureau?"
"Yes, madame."
"That is very strange; but after all, it makes no difference to me!--Ah!
someone is ringing, I believe."
"Perhaps one of those gentlemen has come back. Shall I say that madame
is in and admit him?"
"Yes, if it's Monsieur Beauregard."
"And if it is Monsieur Chamoureau?"
Thélénie had not decided what reply to make when the bell rang again,
with great violence.
"The devil! this one's in a big hurry!" said Héloïse.
"I am quite sure that it is not Monsieur Chamoureau who rings like
that," said Thélénie. "Go and look, Mélie, and tell me who it is."
The maid opened the door; she was amazed, almost terrified at the aspect
of the personage who stood there.
It was a man perhaps forty years old; but his repulsive appearance and
dilapidated costume made it difficult to judge of his age. He was of
medium height, thin of body and fleshless of face. His small, sunken
eyes, rimmed with red, had a very bold and cynical expression, mingled
at times with a threatening ferocity. His nose was long and thin and
slightly curved like a bird's beak; his mouth, almost without teeth, was
pinched and retreating, and the lips were hardly visible; thick
eyebrows, red like his hair, bristled over his eyes. His forehead was
low and sloping. He had a great abundance of badly combed, or rather
uncombed, hair, which fell at random over his shoulders and his
forehead; and although he wore a full beard and moustaches, a large scar
was visible at the base of his left cheek.
This villainous-looking person was dressed in a long coat which had once
been nut-brown, but of which it was now very difficult to distinguish
the color. The coat lacked several buttons; it was worn through at the
elbows, covered with spots and torn in several places; olive-green
trousers, horribly soiled and ragged at the bottom, were in perfect
harmony with the coat. A red handkerchief, twisted rope-fashion, served
as a cravat; his footgear consisted of immense shoes, covered with mud,
one of which was tied with twine and the other not at all. Lastly, on
his head he wore one of those shocking low-crowned hats to which one may
give any conceivable shape, because they have no shape.
"_Cré nom d'un bouffarde!_ my beauty! you take your time about opening
the door! Are your stumps asleep?"
As he spoke thus to the lady's maid, the visitor twirled in his hand a
stout blackthorn stick, which he handled with the dexterity of a
drum-major.
"What do you want, monsieur? You have probably made a mistake; I am very
sure that it wasn't our door that the concierge pointed out to you."
While speaking, the maid held the door only half open, as if to prevent
the man from entering. But he replied with a smile peculiar to himself,
which made his face even more repulsive:
"No, no! I ain't mistaken in the door, _larbine_! otherwise called
servant! This is the place where Madame Sainte-Suzanne lives, isn't it?"
"Yes, this is the place."
"Well, then! don't make so much fuss and feathers! Madame Sainte-Suzanne
is the one I want to speak to."
"You, monsieur?"
"Yes, me! What in the devil's the matter with the girl that she makes
eyes at me like a cat that's been taking physic!"
"What can you have to say to my mistress?"
"What have I to say to her? Look you, my love, that don't concern
anybody but her and me, and I won't let my words fly till we are
together in the closest possible confinement, as the president of the
criminal court says."
"My mistress only receives people she knows, monsieur; and as she
certainly doesn't know you, she won't receive you."
"You're crazy, my girl! You stand there chattering like a magpie and you
don't know what you're saying. Your mistress knows me and knows me well,
too, I flatter myself; consequently she will receive me; and I don't
advise her to refuse to see me, for then there'd be a row at papa's!"
As he spoke, the man pushed the lady's maid before him little by little;
and she, being afraid of him, had allowed him to reach the middle of the
reception room. There he stopped and glanced about, saying:
"_Bigre!_ it's rather neat here! it's bang up! They didn't deceive me
when they said there was fat times at Madame Sainte-Suzanne's. So much
the better! this suits me! I love luxury and style, I do!"
"One would hardly think so to look at you," said the maid.
"That proves, my beauty, that you mustn't judge by appearances.--Just go
and tell your mistress that I want to talk with her a bit; and to make
sure that she won't refuse to see me, you may tell her it's Croque who
has looked in on her to bid her good-day as he passed."
"What name did you say, monsieur?"
"I said Croque."
"Is that your name?"
"It seems to be!"
"I am very sure that madame won't receive you. Whom do you come from?"
"Whom do I come from? why from myself, and that's enough. Come, come! do
what I tell you, girl; and if we are satisfied with you, we'll give you
a kiss."
The maid hastily left the room to tell her mistress.
Thélénie was beginning to be impatient because she had not learned who
had ventured to ring her bell with such violence as to break the cord;
the alarmed expression of her servant redoubled her curiosity.
"Well! who was it? why were you so long about coming to tell me?"
"Oh! madame, it is--if you knew! I am all upset."
"Explain yourself, I say."
"There's a man there, who looks just like a thief; I believe he is one;
he has every appearance of it. Oh! what a horrid man! he frightens me to
death! He has on a long coat with holes in the elbows, and a face--an
expression----"
"Well! what does this man want?"
"He wants to speak to madame--in private; and if you knew how insolently
he talks; one would say that he thought he was in his own house."
"Send the man away; it must be some beggar who has come to ask alms; I
don't see such people; send him away."
"And quickly, too," suggested Mademoiselle Héloïse, "for he is capable
of stealing something in your reception room. I shouldn't suppose your
concierge would let poor people come upstairs. Is the man a dumb idiot?"
"I don't know if the man will go away," said Mélie. "'You will tell your
mistress,' he says, 'that it's Croque who wants to speak to her.'"
When she heard that name, Thélénie turned ghastly pale; she was
evidently deeply agitated; her features contracted; she seemed
completely crushed, and muttered between her teeth:
"Oh! mon Dieu! he is still alive! I hoped that he was dead!"
"Croque! what a name!" exclaimed Héloïse; "why not Croque-Mitaine and be
done with it? Then we should know at all events that he doesn't mean to
scare anyone but children!"
"I will go and tell the horrid man to go away, that madame refuses to
receive him," said Mélie.
But Thélénie hurriedly arrested the maid, crying:
"No, no; don't do that, Mélie; on the contrary, go to this--this
gentleman, and show him in. I am curious to know what he has to say to
me.--Do you, Héloïse, step into the salon a moment."
"What! you propose to receive this man? You are not afraid to be left
alone with him?"
"No, I am not afraid; do what I tell you; and you, Mélie, go and bring
this stranger to me."
The maid obeyed, not trying to conceal her amazement at her mistress's
sudden change of front; and Mademoiselle Héloïse walked toward the
salon, remarking as she went:
"Keep your eye on the mantel all the time, and look out that your friend
don't pinch something."
When the wretchedly-dressed personage was ushered into Thélénie's
bedroom, he bowed to her most respectfully; she motioned to her maid and
to Héloïse to leave them, then carefully closed and locked all the
doors. Thereupon Monsieur Croque dropped carelessly upon a couch and
tossed his hat on the floor, saying:
"Damn my eyes! my dear love, it takes a lot of trouble to reach you!
it's worse than it is at a minister's office! What a get-up! what style!
what a dust!"
The beautiful brunette gazed loweringly at the person before her, and
said at last in a faltering tone:
"What! is it you? I thought----"
"You thought I'd kicked the bucket, didn't you? and I'll bet you didn't
weep very much over me. But no, the little man's still alive; and he
hasn't the slightest inclination to die. What a pity it would be! at
forty years! just the prime of life for a man!"
"But what has become of you these five years past? for it is fully five
years since I last saw or heard of you.--Mon Dieu! what do you look
like!--how can you possibly show yourself dressed like this?"
"Why, I have to do it when I haven't anything else to put on my back,
and not a sign of anything to buy duds with."
"How did you ever allow yourself to fall to such a low condition?"
"How did I allow myself to fall! ah! that's a good one, little sister!
the dear sister, who don't throw her arms round her dear brother's neck.
Look you, that isn't pretty of you; for, after all, I'm your brother, my
dear love, and what's more, your senior, which gives me something very
like the rights of a father or an uncle over you!"
"You have rights over me! I don't advise you to repeat that."
"Come, come, let's not get waxy, Titine--for your name used to be
Titine, you know; you twisted that into Thélénie, and you did well, for
Thélénie's more melodious, it sounds better to the ear. You see that if
I had a swell apartment, like you, and a bully lot of togs, instead of
calling myself just Croque, I'd take the name of Croquinosky or
Croquignolle; but unluckily I haven't got so far as that. You ask me
what I've been doing these five years. Bless my soul! my dear love, I
couldn't come out, I was in the background."
"Ah! you have been in prison?"
"Something very like it."
"For debt?"
"A little for debt, and for something else too--an unfortunate affair--a
theft of shirts in which I was mixed up, although I was most innocent."
"Innocent! you! that is hardly probable."
"Ah! you are as amiable as ever! you doubt your little brother's
probity!"
"Because I know what you are capable of!"
"You know--or you don't know; that's a question. I don't say that I
won't put you in a way to solve it some day; that will depend on the way
you behave toward Bibi!"
"What do you mean? Is that a threat?"
"Oh, no! I never threaten. Come, come! a fellow laughs and jests a bit,
and you flare up right away! I should have supposed that wealth would
make people more amiable."
"Wealth! why, I have no wealth; I have enough to live on and no more."
"Oh! I expected that; you haven't got any money, and you live in a
magnificent apartment, you have splendid furniture and servants at your
beck and call, you're dressed like a stage princess."
"What does all that prove? You know well enough that in Paris a person
can make a great show without being rich; that sometimes all this
display serves simply to cover up debts and straitened circumstances."
"Yes, yes; and another thing I know is that this is no furnished lodging
house, and, that being so, you have your own furniture; that everything
I see is yours; and look--with nothing but that clock and those
candelabra on the mantelpiece, I could get enough to fit myself out new
and go on a good long spree."
Thélénie contracted her black eyebrows and made an impatient gesture.
"Come," she cried, "tell me what you want of me? Why have you come
here?"
Monsieur Croque lounged easily on the couch and replied, smoothing his
beard:
"Oh! you have a shrewd idea, little sister; I won't insult you by
thinking that you haven't guessed. After all, isn't it perfectly
natural? Your brother is unlucky, he hasn't a sou, he's wretchedly
dressed, as you justly observed just now, and it's hard on one's
self-esteem to go out in the street like this! But this brother has a
sister who is in very happy, fortunate circumstances. I don't say she's
a millionaire; dear me, no! that would be too grand! but she has enough
to dress very stylishly. Well, then; she can't let her brother go in
rags. Of course not! that wouldn't be decent! And so this brother goes
to see his sister and says to her: 'You've got money, and I haven't;
give me some of what you have; I won't give you any of what I have
because I have nothing, but I'll bear your image in my heart.'--How's
that? do you get my meaning now?"
"Oh, yes! I knew well enough that it was money you wanted."
"If you knew it, what made you ask me what I came here for? You wanted
to make me laugh a bit, you rogue!"
"It was money that you came for five years ago, and then you were to
obtain employment, to reform and behave yourself."
"Bah! my dear love, are we able to direct events to suit our pleasure?
Certain things happened which disarranged the course I had marked out
for myself--that's the whole story."
"Nine years and a half, almost ten years ago, I found a suitable place
for you; how did you lose it?"
"Oh! you mean the place of secretary to Monsieur Duronceray?"
"It was a pleasant place; you wrote very well, and that was all that was
necessary; you had very little to do and a salary of fifteen hundred
francs."
"Magnificent!--I aimed higher, I was ambitious."
"And to gratify your passions, you dared to rob----"
"Enough! enough! that affair happened a long while ago, and it's no use
to talk about it now; besides, I have something to remind me of it that
will never disappear, I'm afraid!"
As he said this, Thélénie's brother put his hand to his left cheek,
where the scar was; then he continued:
"However, then as now, nobody knew I was your brother; you had
recommended me to that gentleman as a protégé of yours."
"Thank heaven!"
"By the way, what has become of that Monsieur Duronceray?"
"I have no idea."
"Do you never see him now?"
"No, not for a long time."
"Do you know whether he's in Paris at present?"
"I tell you that I know absolutely nothing about him. Why do you ask me
all these questions?"
"Oh! because I am not at all anxious to meet that gentleman--although he
probably wouldn't recognize me, misfortune has changed my features so!
But he had a certain animal that might recognize me.--Ah! that infernal
dog!"
And again Monsieur Croque put his hand to his left cheek.
"The villain! if ever I get a chance to settle his hash! But perhaps
he's dead! I should like it as well if he was dead. Ever since then I've
had a horror of dogs.--But never mind all that; the present business is
to provide for the little brother; that's the most urgent thing; do you
understand, little sister?"
The beautiful brunette was silent for some time; at last she muttered:
"To be economical, to take the pains to save enough to live on, by
depriving oneself, and then to have that money squandered by lazy
vagabonds, by people who do not know what decent behavior is--do you
know that that is decidedly unpleasant?"
Monsieur Croque swayed to and fro on his couch, singing between his
teeth:
"When one knows how to love and please,
What else need one desire?"
"A man says to himself when he has a relation with some little means: 'I
don't need to work; I'm a great fool to bother my head about the future;
when I am out of funds, I'll go to see my sister, I'll appear before
her, covered with dirt and dressed in rags, with a long beard--in fact,
in a state to arouse compassion; and then I'll tell her that I've been
unfortunate, through no fault of my own, and that she must come to my
aid.'--That's about what you said to yourself, isn't it?--But suppose
this sister should get tired of always coming to the aid of a man whom
she has tried more than once to lead back to a decent mode of life;
suppose she should say to him: 'I don't propose to have my savings
wasted by you again; I won't give you anything!'"
Croque rose and, walking toward Thélénie with a threatening air, cried
as loud as his hoarse, rough voice permitted:
"If you should do that, Titine, why, I would go through your apartment,
through the hall, and through the courtyard, shouting at the top of my
voice that you are my sister; everybody should know it: the neighbors,
your concierge, your servants----"
"Enough, Croque, enough! not so loud!"
"I would add that I haven't anything to eat, and that you refuse me a
piece of bread."
"Hush! hush, I say!"
"And I would follow you through the streets, and say to everybody: 'Do
you see that beautiful lady covered with silk and velvet; the one who
has jewels on her neck, ears, arms, everywhere? Well, that's my sister,
and she lets me go barefoot!'"
"Once more, monsieur, hush! and tell me what you need, how much you
want."
"Good! well said! Now we are getting to be agreeable again; and that's
the way I love you; for I do love you, I feel that nature appeals to me
in your behalf, and that the same blood flows in our veins. Would you
like to embrace me?"
Thélénie hastily drew back and repeated her question:
"Tell me how much you need?"
"Bless my soul! my dear love, in my present plight, you understand, I
need everything; I must get an entire new outfit, and then I must have
time to find lucrative employment. I have several things in view,
however; but still you wouldn't want me to be obliged to come back in a
fortnight and tell you that I have nothing left."
"No, indeed! I want you to promise to leave me in peace hereafter."
"Well then, I won't beat about the bush, but I'll tell you at once that
you must part with a thousand-franc note! because with that I shall have
plenty of time to turn round and start an industrial enterprise, in
shares,--with or without a premium; I haven't decided yet; that will
depend."
Thélénie put her hand to her forehead; but at last she made up her mind,
opened her desk and then the drawer which she used as a cash-box. She
took out a thousand-franc note, saying to her brother:
"This is the only one, monsieur; you may look and satisfy yourself."
But Croque rejoined with a smile:
"When a woman is as pretty as you are, my dear love, you shouldn't
worry; when you have no money, there's plenty more to come."
"Here--take this, and forget me from this moment."
"Thanks a thousand times, beloved sister! If you should ever need me
for--no matter what--I am game for anything; remember that I am devoted
to you, and that I shall be very glad to do you a favor in my turn."
As he spoke, the fellow took the bank-note and bestowed it with care in
a pocket of his coat, then picked up his hat, opened the door and went
out.
Thélénie followed him, keeping her eye upon him; but, in the maid's
presence, he assumed a respectful demeanor, bowed to the floor, and said
to his sister:
"Accept once more, madame, the assurance of my profound respect and
gratitude."
"At last he has gone!" said Thélénie to herself when the door had closed
upon her brother. "The wretch!--But he will come again before long! It
will be useless for me to change my residence, he will always succeed in
finding me. What can I do to throw him off my track?--Luckily no one
knows that he is my brother!"
"No one but me!" muttered Héloïse, who, with her ear glued to the door,
had listened to what was said in the bedroom.
XVIII
A SPEAKING HEART
Honorine and Agathe returned from the notary's well content and very
happy. The pretty house at Chelles had become their property. They were
at liberty to make plans for the future without fear of being unable to
realize them.
"Now that the house is ours," said Madame Dalmont to her young friend,
"we must go there again to-morrow, to inspect it more carefully, from
top to bottom. I will examine the furniture and see what part of it I
can keep and what I must bring from Paris."
"Yes, my dear."
"Then we will come back here; I will sell all I do not need to keep, and
we will pack up, leave Paris for good, and settle down in our own home.
Oh! how lovely it is to be able to speak of _home_! I can understand
already the love of the soil."
"Yes; we can arrange and disarrange our furniture without fear that we
shall be found fault with.--By the way, my dear, I fancy that, but for
that young man, Monsieur Edmond Didier, the transaction wouldn't have
been concluded so quickly."
"I agree with you; especially as that Monsieur Chamoureau, the agent,
doesn't seem to listen to anything one says to him. I am very glad to
have done with him. However, his charges are not high; he refused to
accept any fee, saying: 'We will let it go in with something else.' But
as I have no desire to employ him for anything else, I paid
him.--Besides, one doesn't buy a house every day."
"He certainly didn't exert himself very much about this affair; Monsieur
Edmond was the one who did everything; it was very lucky that he
happened to be at Monsieur Chamoureau's the last time we went there; and
it was very funny that he should have put himself out as he did, on the
instant, to be useful to us; for he didn't know us, he had never seen
us.--Had you ever seen him before, dear?"
"No indeed! Where do you suppose I could have seen him? Don't you go
everywhere with me?"
"Yes, of course; and I should have seen him too. Everybody isn't as
obliging as he is; for he threw over his own engagements; he was to go
to the Bois de Boulogne, and he dropped everything to be of service to
us."
"That proves that he is very polite."
"It does, indeed; don't you consider it rather extraordinary, Honorine?"
"Why, no; God be praised! there are still some men who take pleasure in
rendering a service to ladies! They are becoming rather scarce,
especially since men think of nothing but smoking; for courtesy and
tobacco do not go well together! but still, you see that one sometimes
meets such a man."
"And perhaps Monsieur Edmond doesn't smoke."
"Come, let's make a list of the furniture that I care most for and that
I intend to take into the country. I will call it off, while you write,
Agathe."
"Yes, my dear."
Mademoiselle Agathe procured writing materials, but she did not choose
to drop the previous subject of conversation.
"Honorine, that gentleman is musical."
"What gentleman?"
"Monsieur Edmond Didier."
"Indeed! do you think so?"
"I am sure of it. Why, don't you remember that he told us that he
sang?"
"No, I didn't notice."
"Yes, yes, he sings; I feel confident that he has a nice voice."
"What makes you think that, pray?"
"Why, because--because he has a very sweet speaking voice."
"That is no reason; there are people whose speaking voices are very
harsh, but who sing very pleasantly."
"Oh, yes! but when one's voice is sweet to begin with----"
"Come, write; are you ready?"
"To be sure."
"First of all, this little mahogany cradle--the one my poor little boy
slept in. Ah! I shall never part with this cradle!--Next, the little
desk, with drawers, downstairs; I shall keep that, too."
"And the piano, dear; we mustn't forget the piano."
"That goes without saying; for we shall not find one there."
"And we will play a great deal, for music must be even more agreeable in
the country than in Paris."
"Why so?"
"Because, in the first place, we can hear each other better."
"This old easy-chair--what they call a _ganache_; it's very convenient
when one isn't feeling very well; you can sleep very comfortably in it."
"We will carry all the music. What do you think about buying some new
songs, Honorine?"
"We have quite enough."
"But we haven't the new ones."
"This somno, which can be used as a table if necessary."
"To be sure, we don't know what the prettiest ones are."
"And my whole library--all my books! One never has too many of them!"
"But then Monsieur Edmond can tell us, as he is coming to see us. Oh!
you did well to ask him to Chelles; for it wouldn't have been polite not
to invite him after all the trouble he took for us."