It is at Madame Droguet's, I presume, that public opinion is formed?"
"It must be there! That's where all the bigwigs meet."
"I admit that the conjectures of the 'bigwigs' will have very little
influence on our mode of life. We care little for society, but we are
not desirous either to be looked upon as bears; and Agathe is old enough
not to avoid society. When the opportunity presents itself to make
Madame Droguet's acquaintance, we shall not let it pass; but there is no
hurry, is there, Agathe?"
"Oh, no! my dear; and so far as I am concerned, when we have time to
walk, it will be much more agreeable to go in the direction of the
Tower, than to that lady's house who hides in the bushes to spy upon
people. The acquaintance of that beautiful dog, who manifested such a
liking for me, is the acquaintance I am most anxious to cultivate."
During the day which followed this conversation, Poucette came to
Honorine to say that Monsieur Luminot desired to pay his respects, as
one of her neighbors.
"Show Monsieur Luminot in," said Honorine.
"Neighborliness is about to commence," murmured Agathe; "I have an idea
that this man is a bore!"
"My dear girl, we are not in the world solely to enjoy ourselves; we
need no other proof than all the trials that are imposed on us."
Monsieur Luminot, former wine merchant, was a tall, stout man, with a
red face; an excellent type of those rustic buffoons, who deem
themselves very clever because they make a great deal of noise wherever
they are, and are always the first to laugh at what they themselves say;
a device which very rarely fails to arouse the laughter of those who
listen, especially as those who listen to such fellows are generally
entitled to be numbered among Panurge's sheep.
Monsieur Luminot had arrayed himself in a white cravat, and a dress coat
in which he was almost as constrained as Chamoureau in his new trousers;
in the country a dress coat is but rarely donned; it is kept in reserve
for grand and ceremonious assemblages, so that it serves for a long
while. Monsieur Luminot had possessed his for four years, and it was
still quite presentable. During that time, however, its owner had
considerably increased his bulk, so that the coat, which had originally
fitted him very well, had become much too small; nevertheless, he
persisted in wearing it.
"I must wear it out," he would say; "it's very good still. I can't have
another coat made while this looks like a new one."
"Good-morning, mesdames, how do you do? Allow me to congratulate myself
on the pleasure of making your acquaintance."
"Pray be seated, monsieur," said Honorine, offering a chair to her
visitor, who entered the room with a radiant expression and approached
her as if he proposed to begin by embracing her.
"With pleasure, _belle dame_; I don't like to remain standing, one has
enough of that in the street. Ha! ha! ha! that is a _mot_! you will
excuse me, I know; I make many _mots_! I am an inveterate joker. Ha! ha!
ha! As the ballad says: 'We must laugh, we must drink to
hospitality.'--I believe it's in _Le Déserteur_, but I am not quite
sure."
"Does monsieur live in the neighborhood?"
"Yes, _belle dame_, within two steps--two and a bit.--Luminot,
proprietor of vineyards. Always in the vines. Ha! ha! ha! Pray don't
think that I am always tipsy though; it's another _mot_! In Paris I sold
wines at wholesale--excuse this _detail_.[J] Ha! ha! Well, how do you
like our countryside, _belle dame_? I say _belle dame_, because I
presume that this is your daughter--_demoiselle_."
"Ah! it would be funny if I were her daughter!" exclaimed Agathe; "in
that case I should have a mother only ten years older than I!"
"Oh! a thousand pardons! I am a reckless fellow," rejoined the former
wine merchant; "I made a mistake; I had not looked carefully at
mademoiselle; I see now that you are her aunt."
"You are not a sorcerer to-day, monsieur, you do not guess right. Agathe
is simply my friend; but I love her like a daughter and a sister at
once."
"Very good, I understand; she's your cousin _à la mode de Bretagne_.--We
are both happy and proud to have in our village two roses from the
Capital--I might say a rose and a bud. Ha! ha! you catch my thought?
Still another _mot_! What the devil can you expect; when one has sold
spirits, one must retain a little; I didn't sell everything, and it was
not in vain that I was in wines.[K] Ha! ha! ha! I beg your pardon; I
can't help it.--Oh! oh! oh!"
The portly buffoon, amazed that the ladies did not laugh also, grew
calmer, and tried to be more sedate.
"You ladies have not told me whether you are pleased with this region."
"We were waiting until you had ceased laughing, monsieur.--Yes, this
region pleases us exceedingly, and the surrounding country seemed lovely
to us."
"Have you seen our promenade, the Poncelet?"
"No, monsieur; is it in the village?"
"It's on the square; a charming, delightful promenade; you would think
that you were on the Champs-Elysées in Paris, barring the size."
"We haven't seen it yet."
"I venture to think that the society here will please you also. We have
a little nucleus[L] of agreeable and clever people--not large, but large
enough; you shall be one of us, you shall be our almond--Ha! ha!--but
not bitter.--Ha! ha! ha!--joker that I am; I am the life of the whole
neighborhood.--We generally meet at Madame Droguet's--a good house, well
kept up; they live very well indeed; we play cards, and sometimes dance;
Droguet is mad over dancing. I myself used to be rather a fine dancer
once. I could do my little _entrechat_--in the good old way, I assure
you! But I've put on a good deal of flesh, so that I am not so light of
foot as I was. However, I can still hold my own in a quadrille! You
ladies should be fond of dancing?"
"Not I, monsieur; but Agathe is very fond of it."
"In that case, madame, you will play cards with Madame Droguet. Do you
know bézique?"
"No, monsieur."
"Why, you surprise me! that refined, intellectual game, which has caused
a revolution in Paris!"
"I do not care for cards, monsieur."
"Then you can talk with Madame Jarnouillard, a woman of much
intellect--although it doesn't appear. We also have Madame Remplumé, her
husband and her daughter--very _comme il faut_ people! Mademoiselle is
very good-looking, although slightly humpbacked; but when she is facing
you, it is less apparent; still it has kept her from being married; men
don't take to the _hump_! Ha! ha!"
After a moment or two, Monsieur Luminot, discomfited to find that he was
laughing all by himself and that his jests did not make the ladies gasp
with merriment, rose to go, saying:
"Pardon me, ladies, for disturbing you in your household duties; I do
not desire to intrude. I leave you, hoping that you will permit me to
cultivate your delectable acquaintance."
"Whenever it is agreeable to you, monsieur," said Honorine, rising to
show her visitor to the door.
"Those women are very good-looking," he said to himself as he went away,
"but they don't seem to be very cheerful."
"Mon Dieu! what a foolish man!" cried Agathe, when Monsieur Luminot had
gone. "If that's a fair specimen of the society of the place, we shall
do well to deprive ourselves of it."
"My dear girl, we must not be too severe; everything is relative. It may
be that this gentleman is very agreeable in the circle that he
frequents; we are not yet accustomed to his language, but perhaps we
shall end by laughing at it with the rest."
"Let us hope that we shall never reach that point."
"However, I am fully persuaded that he did not consider us agreeable,
because we failed to laugh at what he said."
Not five minutes after the former dealer in wines had taken his leave,
Poucette announced that Monsieur Jarnouillard desired to know if he
could see the ladies.
"This is our day for callers," said Honorine; "let us see Monsieur
Jarnouillard; he is married, and he comes first, which surprises me; he
must be anxious to know us.--Show the gentleman in."
The newcomer was a man of some fifty years, very thin, very ugly, and
very slovenly in his dress, although it was plain that he had tried to
make himself clean for his visit to his neighbors. He wore a cravat that
was almost white, and a shirt collar almost black; a long _redingote_,
which fell to his heels, and might at need be used as a dressing-gown;
shoes half blacked; and a broad-brimmed straw hat like those worn by
women who work in the fields.
Monsieur Jarnouillard had a long, pointed nose, a square, protruding
chin, prominent cheek-bones, tawny, furtive eyes, thin, compressed lips
and an earth-colored complexion, like one who deems any sort of ablution
superfluous.
All this formed an ensemble which did not prepossess one in his favor.
He bowed almost to the floor as he entered the room, as if he were
executing a Turkish salaam. But even while he saluted the two young
women before him, his eyes found time to make the circuit of the room in
which they received him, to scrutinize each article of furniture, and
perhaps to estimate its value.
"Mesdames, pray permit me to pay my respects," said Monsieur
Jarnouillard in a clear, metallic voice, pronouncing every syllable
distinctly. "Jarnouillard, land-owner and annuitant; it is several years
since I retired from business and came to this place to live, with my
wife. She will come to pay her respects to you; she did not come with me
to-day because we have a stew for dinner and she had to stay at home to
watch it; we have no servant, my wife does everything; it amuses her and
distracts her thoughts. I have asked her several times: 'Do you want a
maid? if so, take one.'--But she replies: 'Indeed I will not! to have
everything stolen!'--It is true that servants are a vile lot; one is
very lucky when one can do without them."
"Since it suits yourself and your wife, monsieur, you are very sensible
to adopt that course; one should always follow one's own tastes, and not
worry about what people may say."
"You are perfectly right, madame, you speak very wisely. I think that
you will like this neighborhood, although there are very few people to
associate with."
"We did not come here for the society, monsieur."
"You have bought this house of Courtivaux's, it isn't large, but it's
large enough if there are only you two."
"And one servant, monsieur; we are not afraid of being robbed, you see."
"Everyone must do as he or she pleases. You have taken into your service
that tall Poucette girl, niece of Guillot the farmer; poor people--very
destitute!"
"An additional reason, monsieur, why we should be happy because we are
able to employ someone belonging to them."
"Yes, when they know how to serve; but I doubt very much whether that
tall girl knows how to do anything; where can she have learned?"
"She will learn with us, monsieur, and I congratulate myself every day
on having taken her into my service, for she is exceedingly zealous,
willing and intelligent."
Monsieur Jarnouillard simply bowed, while he inspected once more
everything within his range of vision. Then he resumed:
"Madame is a widow?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Without children?"
"Alas! yes, monsieur! I had a son, but I lost him!"
"The old fool!" muttered Agathe; "to revive my dear love's sorrow with
his questions! What an inquisitive man!"
"We haven't any children either, my wife and I, and we congratulate
ourselves on it every day! it's just so much less turmoil and trouble!"
"And I, monsieur, do not pass a day without regretting the son whom I
lost; to my mind, it is so much less of happiness and of the purest
love!"
Monsieur Jarnouillard bowed again; then he continued:
"You didn't pay a high price for this house--that is, if you bought it
for fifteen thousand francs cash, as I understand."
"Twenty thousand, monsieur, and I do not consider it dear."
"Pardon me--the garden is small, and it yields nothing; you haven't
enough rooms to let----"
"It has never been my intention, monsieur, to try to let rooms to
strangers. My house is quite large enough for my friend and myself, and
that is enough."
"Oh! that makes a difference. You have furnished it very nicely; it was
furnished already, but you have added various things; this couch was
Monsieur Courtivaux's, but that étagère wasn't here, or these
easy-chairs--Oh, yes! they did belong to Monsieur Courtivaux, but those
two pictures weren't his."
"I should say, monsieur, that you had taken an inventory of the
property. You must know how many trees there are in the garden?"
"Not exactly, but very nearly; and wretched trees, too--worth nothing!
oh! miserable trees!"
"Monsieur doesn't know much about trees, I judge," exclaimed Agathe
angrily. "We have the finest lindens it is possible to imagine!"
"Oh! excuse me, mademoiselle, but I consider no trees good that do not
bear good fruit and in large quantity. The linden bears nothing--oh,
yes! they do make an infusion of the leaves, but you can buy a great
quantity for two sous! As a general rule, the land hereabout is poor;
it's very stony."
"That being so, why did you come here to live, monsieur?"
"Oh! as a matter of business, you know. I still do a little something.
When I can accommodate people, I never refuse, although it's very
dangerous, they are all so tricky!--There's a piano which certainly was
not here in Monsieur Courtivaux's time. Are you ladies fond of music?"
"Very, monsieur."
"It's very nice for people who have nothing to do. My wife used to play
the guitar a little, but I put a stop to it; she broke too many strings;
and then, when a woman wants to look after her housekeeping, she must
give up music. I said to her: 'My dear love, you must choose: if you
keep on playing the guitar, your dishes will be badly washed.'--She
realized the force of that reasoning, and the instrument was sold."
"That does credit to your good wife, monsieur, but everybody hasn't so
pronounced a fondness for washing dishes; my friend and I are not
conscious of a vocation for that--are we, Agathe?"
The pretty blonde smiled at her friend, and Monsieur Jarnouillard
regarded Agathe for some moments.
"Is mademoiselle related to you?"
"No, monsieur, she is my friend."
"Ah! I see--her parents placed her in your care?"
The two ladies, who were beginning to be annoyed by their visitor's
questions, thought fit not to answer; but their silence did not deter
him.
"Is mademoiselle an orphan?--I beg pardon, I ask that because, as a
general rule, it is well to be informed. For example, mademoiselle is
naturally in the matrimonial market; well, when one knows the
antecedents, the social position, the means, one may be able to propose
a suitable match, and----"
"If I ever marry, monsieur," said Agathe, "it will be according to my
own taste, and not by the interposition of strangers."
"We can't tell, mademoiselle, there's no knowing. I have arranged
several marriages; they didn't turn out well, it is true, but one can
never answer for results.--Really, you are very comfortable here, it is
quite elegant. Let us see the other rooms."
And the gentleman rose and was about to walk into an adjoining room; but
Honorine closed the door, observing somewhat curtly:
"Pardon me, monsieur, but that room is not arranged yet, and no one can
go in."
"Oh! that makes a difference; some other time then. I must go home, for
I am afraid my wife has forgotten to skim her stew."
"That would be surprising on the part of a person who washes dishes so
well."
"Mesdames, I renew my compliments; enchanted to have made your
acquaintance. My wife will come to see you soon; we do not often
entertain, because our house is very small, but we are pleased to accept
invitations. We are not ceremonious people, who keep a strict account of
calls, like Madame Droguet for example; she is terrible for that! We do
not insist at all that people shall come to see us, but when we are
invited to dinner, we can be relied upon to come.--Mesdames, I have the
honor."
Honorine escorted the visitor to the door, and bowed, but did not utter
a word. As soon as he had disappeared, Agathe cried:
"Oh! what a horrid man! so inquisitive and presuming! He has a bad word
for everything."
"You see, Agathe, that, as compared with Monsieur Jarnouillard, we are
driven to regret Monsieur Luminot!"
"That is so; he may be a fool, but he hasn't such a nasty, sneering way.
Mon Dieu! if Madame Jarnouillard is like her husband, she must be
perfectly ghastly!"
"There was no need of his being so emphatic about not insisting that
people should call on him; he need have no fear--we shall never set foot
inside his door."
A quarter of an hour after Monsieur Jarnouillard's departure, Poucette
appeared once more, with a smile on her face, saying:
"Now it's Monsieur le Docteur Antoine Beaubichon, who asks permission to
salute the ladies."
"Evidently they have passed the word along," said Honorine; "but this
time, at all events, we know whom we have to deal with; show in monsieur
le docteur."
XXV
THE LOST CHILD
The short, stout, puffy little man, who gasped for breath when he had
climbed a flight of stairs or walked a little faster than usual,
appeared in his turn, and saluted the two ladies as old acquaintances.
"It is I, madame, come to pay my respects--that is to say, if I don't
disturb you; if my presence at this moment is inopportune, pray tell me,
and I will go at once."
"No, monsieur le docteur, your presence is not inopportune; on the
contrary, we hope that it will make up to us in some measure for the
visit we have just received."
"Ah! have you had visitors from Paris?"
"Not from Paris, but from the neighborhood: first, Monsieur Luminot; he
seemed to us to be very jovial, although his jests are not always in the
best taste; but after him there came a certain Monsieur
Jarnouillard.--Really, we could very well have done without his visit!
Everything about the man is disagreeable,--his face, his dress, his
language; and his curiosity is beyond words!"
"Oh! as to that, mesdames, it's a common failing in small places; there
are few people here, and everyone wants to know what his neighbor is
doing. I won't deny that I myself am reasonably curious; it's a disease
that grows on one here.--Well, here you are among us; are you still
satisfied with your purchase?"
"More than ever, doctor; and our house pleases us so much that we never
leave it."
"Haven't you seen our square yet, the Poncelet promenade?"
"No, but it seems that it is very pretty, for we have already heard of
it."
"Why, yes; it's a square worthy of a large city.--And then you mustn't
judge our society by Monsieur Jarnouillard; we have some very pleasant
people--large land-owners; to be sure, they stay at home and rarely come
to our houses.--Have you been to walk in the direction of the Tower
yet?"
"Not yet; but we already know the owner of the place, doctor."
"Really? you know him?"
"That is to say, we met him and his dog on the bank of the Marne, on our
way to Poucette's uncle's field."
"Well, what do you think of the man? Hasn't he something savage in his
expression?"
"Why, no; he has the look of a man who doesn't care for society, and who
doesn't shave; but, as he walked by very rapidly, I couldn't examine him
closely."
"But I," said Agathe, "won the heart of his beautiful dog. He looked at
me and caressed me. His master had to call him, to induce him to leave
me."
"You astonish me, for he's a rascal who seldom caresses strangers.
However, I must admit that this Ami--that is his name, you know--is
really endowed with extraordinary intelligence. Only three days ago he
saved a child who was drowning."
"Oh! the good dog! how grateful the child's parents must be to him!"
"Parents?--the little fellow who was drowning hasn't any; it was the
lost child."
"The lost child! Mon Dieu! what does that mean?"
"The peasants have given that name to the little fellow, because no one,
not even his nurse, knows to whom he belongs. It's a mysterious story."
"Tell us about it, doctor; you always have interesting things to tell,
and we enjoy them ever so much."
"You see--the local disease, curiosity, is taking hold of you!"
"That's very possible; but tell us about the lost child."
"First of all, I must tell you, mesdames, that about four years ago the
widow Tourniquoi won a prize in a lottery. I don't know just what
lottery it was, but that makes no difference to our story--the important
point is that the widow Tourniquoi, who was not rich, and who had two
children to bring up, won, I believe, about twenty thousand francs. To a
peasant that is a large fortune! Thereupon this woman, who has an
excellent heart, wrote to a sister of hers at Morfontaine, near
Ermenonville; this sister was a widow also, and was not fortunate; so
Madame Tourniquoi wrote to her to come to her; to leave Morfontaine,
where she had no regular work, and come to live with her.
"Naturally the poor sister asked nothing better than to join her sister
who was wealthy, or, at least, in comfortable circumstances. So she
arrived at Chelles one fine day with a little boy about three years and
a half old.
"'Hallo!' said Madame Tourniquoi to Jacqueline--that is her sister's
name--'I thought you didn't have any children, that you lost your only
one when he was only a year old. But never mind, you and your son are
welcome.'
"'This little fellow isn't mine,' replied Jacqueline, 'it's a
foster-child that was placed in my charge, and left on my hands. I'll
tell you how it happened. I was nursing my boy, who was four months old,
and as we weren't rich, I said to my husband, who was alive then: "I'm
going to Paris, to enter my name at the nurses' bureau, and then I'll
wait for a child to nurse."--He agreed, so I started for Paris. When I
got there, I asked a lady who was passing, what way I should go to get
to the nurses' bureau. The lady, who was dressed very simply, examined
me for some time, then she says:
"'"You mean to go to the nurses' bureau and enter your name and get a
child to nurse?"
"'"Yes, madame," I says, "I've come to Paris just for that."
"'"Where do you come from?"
"'"I live at Morfontaine, ten leagues from Paris."
"'"Well! your lucky star put you in my path, for if you are looking for
a child to nurse, I am looking for a nurse--for a very rich lady who lay
in three days ago of a fine little boy who's as good as a charm. She
meant at first to bring him up on the bottle, but she's changed her
mind, and I'll take you to her; so you don't need to enter your name at
the nurses' bureau, which is very lucky for you, because in this way
you'll save a lot of expenses."
"'I listened to the lady with joy in my heart; I was delighted to find
what I wanted just as soon as I got out of the stage, and I was glad,
too, to get the child of a rich person, because they always pay better.
So I told the lady that I asked nothing better than to go with her; then
she took me to a big square where there was lots of carriages, told me
to get into one of them with her, said something quietly to the driver,
and we started.
"'I don't know anything about Paris, and I don't know where they took
me. At last the carriage stopped; we were in a narrow, dirty street, and
I says to myself: "It's a funny thing that rich people in Paris should
live in such nasty streets!" But the lady says to me:
"'"We're going in at the rear of the house, because the noise of the
carriage can't be heard so distinctly and it don't bother madame la
baronne so much."
"'"Good," says I to myself, "the child's mother's a baroness--that's
fine."
"'We went into a house, not a very handsome one, and up a dark
staircase; then my companion took me into quite a handsome,
well-furnished room. She told me to sit down and left me, to find out
whether her baroness was ready to see me.