XXVII
A RESEMBLANCE
The Comte de Brévanne had a reason for going to Paris, but he did not wish to confide to anyone the purpose of his journey; having completed his visit, he was driven, about five o'clock, to Boulevard du Temple, near Rue d'Angoulême, and there he looked about for Georget, who, intent upon following Monsieur Jéricourt, had forgotten his appointment with the count. The latter, without alighting from his carriage, drove to his city home, where the concierge informed him that Georget had not called.
"I can guess where he probably is, and what has made him forget the appointment," thought Monsieur de Brévanne. "Driver, take me to the flower market on Boulevard Saint-Martin."
The driver whipped up his horse and the count said to himself:
"Here is an opportunity to see this girl who is so pretty, and who has turned my poor Georget's head; I will wager that he is within a few steps of the flower girl's booth, and that he can't make up his mind to go away. A boy loves so earnestly at eighteen! and this poor fellow's heart is too soft; he will be unhappy for a long while if I do not succeed in curing him. But how? First of all, I must find out whether this girl is really a bad girl."
The count left his carriage at the corner of the boulevard, and entered the flower market, saying:
"How shall I know Mademoiselle Violette? Why, of course, from Georget, whom I shall probably see hovering about her booth."
And Monsieur de Brévanne walked along, examining all the flower dealers. He saw some who were old and others who were not pretty. Beauty is a rarer thing than is generally supposed. Go into a theatre, and turn your opera glass in all directions: sometimes out of six hundred women in the audience, you will not find a single one who is really beautiful. Let us not be surprised at the vast number of conquests that pretty women make, for their number is very, very small.
The count walked on, not surprised at not seeing Georget, as there seemed to be no fascinating flower girls. But as he drew near the Château d'Eau, a lovely face instantly attracted his eyes. It belonged to a flower girl, and she was probably the one he sought. Georget was not there, however; but the girl was so lovely that it was impossible that there could be another among the dealers in flowers that could be compared with her.
Monsieur de Brévanne stopped in front of the flower girl, and gazed at her with an interest which became deeper with every moment; as he scrutinized her features, he was conscious of an emotion which he could not comprehend at first; the girl reminded him of someone; he searched his memory for a moment, but it did not take long to decide whose portrait he saw in the girl.
"What an extraordinary resemblance!" said the count to himself, his eyes still fastened upon Violette's face, for it was her booth at which he had stopped. "This girl has all Lucienne's features, but Lucienne's features when I was paying court to her, when she was not my wife; only, Lucienne had a merry expression, a smile always on her lips, and this girl has a melancholy look, her brow is careworn; but probably she is not always thus. Is it a delusion of my senses? No, that profile, that nose, the outlines of the face—it is impossible for two persons to resemble each other more closely. And is this the Violette with whom Georget is in love? It must be she; but no matter, I must make certain."
The count walked to the flower girl's booth, picked up a bunch of roses and asked the price. Violette replied, and her voice made a profound impression upon the count, for that too was his wife's. He bent so piercing a glance upon the girl that she was confused and lowered her lovely eyes.
"I beg pardon, mademoiselle," said the count, as he paid for his roses; "but perhaps you can assist me in finding the person for whom I am looking; it is a young flower girl named Violette."
"Violette—why, I am Violette, monsieur."
"Ah! are you she?"
"There is nobody else of that name in this market."
"Oh! I believe you; indeed, I suspected that you must be the one."
"What do you wish of me, monsieur?"
"It will seem strange to you, mademoiselle, but I was looking for you in order to find another person."
"I don't understand you, monsieur."
"I will explain myself: I have with me now, at my place in the country, a young fellow who used to be a messenger, and whose stand was on this boulevard."
Violette, who instantly flushed crimson, exclaimed:
"You must mean Georget, monsieur."
"Yes, his name is Georget."
"In that case, monsieur, you must be the gentleman of whom he has told me so much good: that Monsieur Malberg, who was so kind to him when his mother was ill, who gave him money, and——"
"I am Monsieur Malberg," replied the count, hastening to put an end to the girl's eulogium; "but it's Georget, not I, of whom we are speaking; he came to Paris with me to-day, and he made an appointment with me at five o'clock, to return to Nogent, where my country house is. I am surprised at his lack of punctuality, and I thought that I might find him at this market. You have not seen him, mademoiselle?"
"I beg pardon, monsieur, I did see him for a moment, but it was more than two hours ago. He was over there, opposite me; I don't know whether he had been there long, but when I looked at him, when he saw that I saw him, he instantly disappeared, and I haven't seen him since then."
"And he didn't speak to you?"
"Oh, no! he doesn't speak to me now, monsieur."
As she said this, Violette's voice changed, she heaved a deep sigh, and her eyes filled with tears.
The count was touched; as he listened to the girl, he did not tire of gazing at her with a close scrutiny which would have alarmed her if she had not been at that moment engrossed by the thought of Georget.
"Is your mother still living, mademoiselle?" the count suddenly asked; and Violette, surprised by a question which had no connection with Georget, faltered:
"No, monsieur, no, I have no mother.—Did Georget tell you that he knew me, monsieur?"
"Yes, yes, he told me that.—Is it long since you lost her?"
"Why, monsieur, it is several weeks now since I have seen him; so he is in the country with you, is he, monsieur?"
"Georget? yes, he is with me. But I was talking about your mother; I was asking you if you lost her when you were young?"
"My mother? why, I never knew her, monsieur; I am a poor girl, deserted by her parents; and I owe the position that I have to-day to a kind-hearted woman who sold flowers on this same spot."
"Ah! I understand," replied the count, thinking that the girl had been brought up at the Foundling Hospital. "I beg your pardon, I am sorry that I asked you that question; I should be terribly distressed to cause you pain; I must seem very inquisitive to you, but your features remind me strongly of someone whom I once knew very well."
"Oh! you haven't offended me, monsieur; I ask nothing better than to answer you; I was so anxious to know you, since I knew how kind you had been to Georget."
"How old are you?"
"I am eighteen and a half, monsieur; I shall be nineteen in three months, I believe."
"That is strange!"
"Is Georget very happy at your place in the country, monsieur? Does he never come to Paris, he who formerly could not pass a day without walking on the boulevard? To be sure, in those days he used to speak to me, he used to talk with me, and I had to scold him very often, to make him go to work; and now he never looks at me, or else he has such a contemptuous expression, and all because someone told him something about me—as if he should have believed it! Ah! if anyone told me that Georget had stolen, or that he had done anything mean, would I believe it?—I beg your pardon, monsieur, but does he ever speak to you of me? Do you think he has forgotten me altogether?"
For several moments the count had not been listening to the flower girl; he was preoccupied, absorbed by his memories, and he did not hear what she said to him. At last, abruptly driving away the thoughts that beset him, he exclaimed:
"I am a madman! just because of a resemblance, such as nature often produces, I must needs imagine—Adieu, mademoiselle, adieu! once more, pray excuse my curiosity."
And the count hastened away, without answering the last questions of the pretty flower girl, who was more depressed than ever, as she looked after him, saying to herself:
"He wouldn't answer what I asked him about Georget; perhaps he told him not to. To be despised, when one has nothing to blame oneself for! that is horrible! and yet, I feel in the bottom of my heart that the main thing is to have one's conscience clear. I have nothing to reproach myself for, and some day they will reproach themselves for having made me so wretchedly unhappy."
The count entered his carriage and started for Nogent. But on the way, his mind was full of that extraordinary resemblance, and the young flower girl's face constantly returned to his thoughts.
In vain did Georget make all possible haste, he did not reach Nogent until fully two hours after the count. Chicotin left his comrade on the outskirts of Vincennes, panting for breath, exhausted and dying with thirst, because his friend would not consent to enter a wine-shop for refreshment, as that would have delayed them. He shook hands with Georget, saying to him:
"My dear boy, I am very glad I came with you, but I've had enough; if I went any farther I should have the pip, and I believe I should break in two. Deuce take it! you have a way of walking that leaves cabs and omnibuses nowhere. Au revoir; I'll call and say good-day to you at Nogent, but I shall go all alone, and take my own time walking; I prefer that way."
Georget presented himself before his master, decidedly shamefaced; he was afraid of being scolded because he was not on hand punctually at the place which his patron had appointed; but the count simply said to him:
"As I didn't find you at the place I mentioned, I concluded that you had forgotten the time at the flower market, with the pretty flower girl, and I went there to look for you."
"You went there, monsieur? Did you see Violette?"
"Yes, I saw her and talked with her."
"You talked with her? Ah! I didn't speak to her! With one of my old comrades, named Chicotin, who wouldn't believe that Violette had behaved badly, I followed that Monsieur Jéricourt, the man to whose rooms she—she went; and as Chicotin knows that man, he begged him to tell us the truth about the flower girl. As I expected, he confirmed what I had already heard."
"It's a pity, for that girl is very interesting, and I discovered in her features a resemblance to a person who was very pretty also—long ago!"
"Oh! isn't Violette lovely, monsieur? I told you so! And—excuse me if I ask you a question—but what did she have to say to monsieur?"
"She talked about you, my boy."
"About me! about me! why on earth did she speak of me, when she doesn't love me and has made me so unhappy? Why does she think of me, when another man has her love, when she did not care for mine, which was so true, so sincere? Is it to make me unhappy again? is it to make me still more desperate, that she speaks of me? I don't want her to talk about me, I will tell her not to!"
"Come, come, be calm, Georget; you are not reasonable, my friend; and I think that I shall do well not to let you go to Paris again."
"Forgive me, monsieur; you are right to scold me.—Mon Dieu! to think that I hurried back so fast, because I had good news to tell monsieur, and here I have forgotten all about it and haven't told him! It is all Violette's fault, you see, monsieur; she upsets my wits, she makes me forget everything; it is worse than sickness, monsieur!—And she talked about me?"
"Well, Georget, as you have thought of it at last, what is the news that you have to tell me?"
"Monsieur, I haven't forgotten that sometime ago you employed me to find the residence in Paris of a person whom you wished to find; it was a Monsieur de Roncherolle, wasn't it, monsieur?"
At the name of Roncherolle, the count's face instantly lighted up, and he seized Georget's arm, exclaiming:
"Yes, yes, it was he! Well, go on—what do you know?"
"I know that gentleman's address, at last."
"You know it?"
"Yes, monsieur.—Mon Dieu! if I had happened to mention it sooner to Chicotin, my old comrade, I should have known it a long while ago. He is that gentleman's messenger, he works for him."
"And his address?"
"Monsieur de Roncherolle lives on Rue de Bretagne, in the Marais, in a furnished lodging house. He doesn't know the number, but as the street is short, it will be easy to find."
"Rue de Bretagne, in the Marais,—a furnished lodging house?"
"Yes, monsieur, that is right."
"So I have found him at last!" murmured the count, intensely excited.
"If I should go this evening—but no, it is too late. He would not admit me perhaps. But to-morrow morning—yes, I will see him to-morrow."
"What could Violette have had to say to you about me, monsieur?" faltered Georget, walking toward his master; but he simply pointed to the door and said: "Leave me," in a tone which permitted no reply.
Poor Georget left the room, disconcerted, and saying to himself:
"It is strange! I thought I should make him very happy by giving him that gentleman's address; but it seems to have produced a contrary effect."
XXVIII
THE EDUCATION OF A PARROT
Let us return to Monsieur de Roncherolle, whom we left in his little lodging house in the Marais.
When the gout left him at rest, that gentleman usually left his room about noon, and did not return until midnight, sometimes later; always cursing the dimly-lighted staircase, his wretchedly-kept apartment, and the servants who performed their duties inefficiently; and he ordinarily finished his complaints by saying:
"But, after all, as I can't hire any better lodgings, I must make the best of it, I must be a philosopher. I can no longer attract women, I have squandered my money, and with what little I have left I still manage to lose at cards. Such infernal luck! Louis XIV was right when he said to the Maréchal de Villeroi: 'At our age, a man has no luck!'—Ah! ten thousand devils! what would he have said if he had had the gout?"
But one morning, Monsieur de Roncherolle, finding that he was unable to put his left foot to the floor, was compelled to remain in his room, reading a great deal to pass the time away, and sleeping when the gout would allow.
Stretched out in the so-called armchair à la Voltaire, with his diseased foot on a cushion and wrapped in flannel, Monsieur de Roncherolle had been sleeping a few moments when a shrill, piercing shriek and a number of words uttered in a voice like Mr. Punch's, woke him abruptly. Then an ordinary human voice, much too loud for that of a neighbor, however, uttered these words:
"Very good, Coco, very good; you have plenty of voice, my friend; I know perfectly well that you can talk, for I heard you at your owner's café, and that is why I bought you. Now the question is to learn what I want you to say, and you will learn it, won't you, Coco?"
"Good-day, Monsieur Brillant!"
"Good-day, my friend, good-day! you say that very well; but I am not Monsieur Brillant, I am Saint-Arthur, De Saint-Arthur."
"Good-day, Monsieur Brillant!"
"Come, come, Coco, that isn't it; now listen: Dutaillis is lovely! applaud, clap Zizi!—There, that's what you must say; it's a little long perhaps, but you can learn it half at a time. Attention: Dutaillis is lovely!"
"Good-day, Monsieur Brillant!"
"Sapristi! you will make me angry, Coco."
"Cré coquin! you make me sick! oh! what a fool!"
"Aha! he swears; you swear! all right; that is quite amusing, but it isn't enough for me. Dutaillis is lovely."
"Oh! what a fool!"
"Applaud, clap Zizi!"
"Good-day, Monsieur Brillant!"
"Corbleu! morbleu! I will swear, too, if you make me angry."
"You make me sick, Monsieur Brillant!"
"Dutaillis is lovely!"
"You make me sick!"
"Applaud, clap Zizi!"
Roncherolle, who had been obliged to listen to this dialogue, not without cursing and swearing at his new neighbor, interposed at this point by striking the partition with his cane, and shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Ten thousand thunders! ten thousand millions of devils! is this going to last much longer? Haven't you nearly finished, my dear neighbor and Master Parrot? Monsieur Coco and Mademoiselle Dutaillis! do you know that I am the one who will clap you, if you go on braying as you are doing? and I should have done it long ago if I could have moved!"
These words imposed silence upon the dandified little Saint-Arthur and his parrot; for it was in fact the young dandy, Jéricourt's friend and the lover of the little actress of Boulevard du Temple, who had become within a few days Monsieur de Roncherolle's neighbor; the young man's extravagance had forced him to leave very abruptly a charming little apartment on Rue de Bréda, which he had furnished in the very latest style. But because he gratified every day the expensive whims of Mademoiselle Zizi, Saint-Arthur had forgotten to pay his furniture dealer and his upholsterer; those gentlemen lost patience, demanded their money, then set the bailiffs to work; whereupon our former travelling salesman consulted his wallet, and found that he had only eight thousand francs remaining, whereas he owed eleven thousand. He said to himself: "If I stay in this apartment, they will take my money away from me; I prefer to abandon my furniture to my creditors; they can almost pay themselves with it, and I shall still have what remains to enjoy myself with. I will tell Zizi that I have moved to the Marais for family reasons, in order to be nearer an aunt whose heir I am. However, it makes little difference to her where I live, provided that I still take her to dinner at a restaurant, and provided that I am generous to her."
As a result of this reasoning, Beau Saint-Arthur had hired an apartment in the house on the Rue de Bretagne. It was on the same floor as Monsieur de Roncherolle's, and it was three times as large; and as the young dandy retained there, as everywhere, the habit of making a show; as he dressed three times a day; as he ordered dainty breakfasts, drank champagne, and carried a cane made of an elephant's tusk, the people of the house had the highest esteem for him, looked upon him as an important personage, and would gladly have exchanged a dozen tenants like the gouty gentleman for a single one like Monsieur de Saint-Arthur.
"He has shut up at last! that's very lucky!" said Roncherolle to himself, stretching himself out in his reclining chair. "Parbleu! I seem to have a new neighbor as to whom I must felicitate the master of this house. If that had gone on, I couldn't possibly have stood it. The man must be an idiot to try to teach the parrot such stuff.—I shall meet him soon enough."
And Roncherolle yawned, closed his eyes, and was dozing again when suddenly the noise began anew beside him.
"Dutaillis is lovely! Come now! Dutaillis is lovely!"
"Good-day, Monsieur Brillant!"
"You beast!—Applaud, clap Zizi!"
"Zi—Zi—Zan—Zan—Monsieur Brillant. You make me sick!"
"And so do you me, you beast!"
"Par la mordieu! and you're a beast yourself!" cried Roncherolle, sitting up in his chair and grasping his cane again and hammering on the partition and on the floor. "Ah! you have the effrontery to keep on with your parrot lessons! Dare to begin again, and I will twist your pupil's neck, and throw his master out of the window! What a house! What service they have! Here I've been pounding and ringing for an hour, and no one comes! I say there! waiter! chambermaid!"
Again Saint-Arthur and his parrot held their peace. But the little dandy also jerked all the bell-cords that he could find in the three rooms of which his apartment consisted.
At that jangling of bells, the waiter and the chambermaid hastened up to their tenants on the third floor. The chambermaid no longer entered Roncherolle's room, because he had several times told her to go and wash herself, and then to go to the scrubber's. The waiter, who was called the "young man," and who had worked in the house for more than twenty years, was probably quite fifty-five years old. He was a man of medium height, but endowed with a very coquettish embonpoint, and a prominent abdomen, which, however, did not prevent him from having a wrinkled face, and a small wig which did not come down to his ears, and which he was constantly occupied in jerking to the right or to the left. Having never worn any other costume than a pair of short trousers and a small round jacket, like the waiters at restaurants, Beauvinet—that was the "young man's" name—always wore a white apron, one half of which he turned up to conceal the other half, when it had ceased to be spotlessly clean. All in all, Beauvinet was more presentable than the chambermaid and it was he who answered Roncherolle's bell when he rang.
So Beauvinet presented himself before the gouty gentleman, his apron turned up, and pulling his wig over his right ear, which necessarily caused the left side to rise; but one ordinarily obeys the most urgent need, and it was only on extraordinary occasions that Beauvinet pulled both sides of his wig at once; even then he dared not do it except with great precaution, because one day when he indulged in that manœuvre, he had heard an ominous cracking on the top of his head, as if his wig were about to be transformed into a crown; and the perquisites of his position were too small to allow him to purchase a new wig.
"Monsieur rang, monsieur knocked, monsieur called, I believe?" said Beauvinet, showing his bloated and wrinkled face.
"Sacrebleu! yes, I did ring and I did knock; I would have set the house on fire if there had been any fire on the hearth."
"Fire! mon Dieu! is monsieur very cold? Why, it is warm——"
"Hold your tongue! and answer."
"Why, monsieur——"
"And try to let that shocking wig of yours alone; it annoys me to see you always jerking that sorry thing."
"Why, monsieur——"
"Silence! Who is it that lives here, in this apartment next to me? Is it a new neighbor that I have there?"
"Yes, monsieur, that fine apartment has only been let a week."
"To whom?"
"To a very fashionable, a very distinguished young man, who dresses as if he went to the opera every day, and who spends money——"
"Ah! I understand why you call him very fashionable; what is the man's name?"
"Monsieur Alfred de Saint-Arthur."
"Bigre! that's a magnificent stage name! no one ever has such names except in farces or at the Gymnase."
"Beg pardon, monsieur, I don't understand."
"You are not obliged to. Listen, Beauvinet: your Monsieur Saint-Arthur, or Saint-Alfred, no matter which, has behaved very well for a week, as I didn't know that I had a neighbor; but why in the devil has he taken it into his head to have a parrot to-day, and to teach him to talk?"
"Beg pardon, monsieur, but it isn't a parrot that the gentleman brought home this morning, it is a caca—a cato—mon Dieu! he told me the name——"
"A cockatoo, no doubt?"
"Yes, monsieur, that's the name; he is a fine creature, I tell you, with a thing on his head so that you'd swear he's a turkey with his comb."
"It belongs to the family of parrots. Well, this fellow and his bird make a frightful racket, which prevents me from sleeping; and when one has the gout, when one is in pain, one has no comfort except in sleep. I lost my temper too much just now, perhaps, but do you go from me and tell my neighbor that I am confined to my room by this infernal disease, and that I beg him, out of regard for my plight, to be kind enough not to give lessons to his bird so long as I am obliged to keep my room; he can be certain that I shall go out as soon as I am able to walk, and then he may pour out his heart to his bird at his leisure. If this Monsieur de Saint-Arthur is a decent man and has any breeding, he will comply with my request; if not—we will see.—You understand, Beauvinet? Now go, and let your wig alone."
While this was taking place in Monsieur de Roncherolle's room, Joséphine, the chambermaid, had answered Saint-Arthur's bell.
"What does this mean, girl?" he asked her; "isn't a man free to do what he pleases in his own room, in your house? When I pay cash, and I believe I do pay cash, can't I amuse myself by teaching sentences, droll remarks, to my cockatoo?"
"I should say so, monsieur! who would prevent you, pray? Certainly, monsieur is master in his own room; and he can do whatever comes into his head, without having anyone else interfere; and we are too flattered to have monsieur for a tenant, and monsieur must see that we come at once as soon as he rings."
"In that case, girl, why does a person, who evidently lives on this same landing, venture to knock on the wall, to yell like a deaf man, to swear and to threaten, when I am teaching Coco to talk? I bought the bird with no other purpose; as soon as he can talk well, I expect to present him to an actress, a friend of mine who adores me; and I do not propose to stop educating him because of a neighbor."
"What, monsieur! that gouty old fool in the next room had the face to call and knock? Oh! that don't surprise me, that man ain't afraid to do anything. Such a wretched tenant! how I wish he would leave us! he complains of everything in the house. To listen to him, you would think that he had always lived in châteaux; but you mustn't pay any attention to him, monsieur; and above all things, don't put yourself out. In the first place, you hire an apartment three times dearer than his, consequently you have the right to make three times as much noise."
"That reasoning strikes me as mathematical; but what sort of man is this neighbor of mine?"
"What sort of man? Bless my soul! he's the kind that has the gout; he growls and swears and yells; he's mad because he can't go out; and I have an idea that he'd like to raise the deuce still, although he's too old for that now; but he can't move, and that makes him angry."
"What! this neighbor of mine is old and helpless, and he dares to threaten me! Upon my word! that is too funny; it is really amusing! I believe that the wisest way is to laugh at him."
"Oh, yes! monsieur; but if you want me to go and speak to the old grumbler——"
"No, no, my dear, it isn't necessary; I don't need any intermediary in this sort of thing; I know how to handle it myself. Go, go; we will arrange matters with the neighbor."
And the dandified little Saint-Arthur, overjoyed to learn that his neighbor was old and ill, drew himself up and dismissed the chambermaid, pacing the floor of his room with a lordly swagger.
The servant had not been gone two minutes when Beauvinet knocked lightly at the door, then opened it and entered Saint-Arthur's room, saying:
"May I come in?"
"What is it now? what do you want of me?" asked the young dandy, scrutinizing Beauvinet's wrinkled face.
"Monsieur, it's me, Beauvinet."
"You! I don't know you."
"No, because Joséphine asked the privilege of blacking monsieur's boots; but I also belong to the house."
"In the first place, my dear fellow, nobody blacks my boots, because I only wear patent leathers; and they are never blacked; that was a stupid remark of yours; go on."
"I was saying to monsieur that I belonged in the house."
"What are you in the house?"
"I am the young man, monsieur."
"Ah! you are the young man, are you? how long have you been the young man?"
"More than twenty years, monsieur."
"You are an old young man then?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Well, what do you want of me?"
"Monsieur, your neighbor in the next room, Monsieur de Roncherolle, sent me."
"Aha! it was the old fellow in the next room who sent you? Indeed! I am interested to know what message this gentleman who doesn't like parrots sends me. He sent you to apologize to me, I suppose?"
"Yes, monsieur, yes; the gentleman told me to tell you that he knew he lost his temper too much just now, that it was the fault of the condition he's in."
"Ah! he admits it; that's lucky; it was time!"
"And then, as he has the gout, and as he would like to sleep all the time, the gentleman told me to ask you not to teach your cockatoo so long as he's sick; but as soon as he goes out, then you can play with your bird some more."
"Upon my word, this is too much! I say, is this old fellow a downright idiot? I mustn't teach Coco to speak during the day, because my gentleman wants to sleep! Why, when a person wants to sleep all the time, he should go and live with mountain rats. And he thinks that I am going to gratify him——"
"You understand, monsieur, I am simply repeating what he told me to tell you, being the young man of the house. What shall I say to the gentleman from you?"
"Nothing. I will take my answer myself; yes, this gouty old fellow shall see me, he shall know whom he is dealing with; for it is time to put an end to all this nonsense."
"Ah! monsieur means himself to see his neighbor?"
"Yes, young man. I will teach the fellow a thing or two! So I must not instruct my parrot except when that gentleman has gone out! that is delicious! it is worth putting on the stage! I will tell it to Zizi, and she will have a good laugh.—Go, young man; I have no further need of you."
Saint-Arthur cast a glance at his mirror, to see that nothing was lacking in his costume, strove to assume a martial air, and when he had achieved it, took his pretty ivory cane and went to his neighbor's room. Roncherolle was trying again to sleep; he was on the point of succeeding, when he heard the door on the landing open and close violently; he always left it unlocked, so that people could come in without his having to get up.
"Who's there? Who in the devil is making that racket?" cried the sick man, jumping up. "Everybody seems bent on preventing me from sleeping to-day! Is that the way to shut a door?"
"Apparently it is my way of shutting one," said Saint-Arthur, entering the room with his hat on, and walking toward Roncherolle without even bowing to him. The invalid opened his eyes and began to scrutinize the personage who had entered his presence in that unceremonious way.
"You stare at me with an expression of surprise, Monsieur le Dormeur! To be sure, you don't know me. I will begin by telling you that my name is Alfred de Saint-Arthur, and that I live here beside you, in a very pretty apartment, which does not resemble this; in fact, that I am the master or the owner of the cockatoo which you heard just now."
"I suspected as much; just from looking at you, I could have guessed that you were the master of the parrot; for master's the word, as you teach him his tricks."
"Ah! very pretty! monsieur is pleased to jest, I believe. Well, we will have a laugh; I came for that purpose. I say, Monsieur de la Marmotte—for a man who wants to sleep all the time may properly be classed with the marmottes—I say, old fellow, you sent someone to me to tell me not to teach to talk the rare bird that I possess; the nasal tones of that creature bore you, fatigue you; he prevents you from going to by-by. That is most distressing, and I am really distressed by it. But, instead of ceasing my lessons to Coco, I propose to give them to him from morning to night, if I please. I have a right to do it! I am in my own apartment; and if you venture to hammer and knock on the partition again, to make me stop, I warn you that it will end badly for you, sacrebleu! because, deuce take it! I am not patient, and morbleu! and——"
Here Saint-Arthur paused, because his neighbor was eyeing him in such a peculiar way that it began to take away his self-possession.
"Have you finished?" asked Roncherolle, rolling his chair nearer to Saint-Arthur.
"Why, yes, I believe that I have said all that I had to say."
"Then it is my turn. In the first place, where did you think you were going, when you came in here?"
"Where did I think I was going? that's a funny question! Why, I thought that I could not have made a mistake; I knew that I was going to my neighbor's room."
"No, monsieur, when you came in here, you evidently thought that you were going into a stable, for you didn't bow and you kept your hat on your head."
"Oh! that is possible, monsieur, and——"
"When anyone comes into my room, monsieur, I propose, I demand that he shall take off his hat. Come! take yours off at once!"
"What! take my hat off? But suppose I——"
"Suppose you don't choose to? Well, in that case I will just take it off myself, and it won't take long!"
Roncherolle grasped his cane, raised it quickly, and aimed at his fashionable neighbor's head; but he, seeing the gesture, very quickly snatched off his hat, while a shudder of ill augury ran through his frame.
"Now I am going to answer your nonsense, for you haven't said anything else since you came in. I didn't send word to you that you mustn't teach your parrot. In the first place, I am too well-bred, monsieur, I know too much, to employ such terms to a man whom I suppose to be well-bred also; I sent to you a request to suspend your lessons while I am suffering from the gout, because that terrible disease often forces me to pass whole nights without sleep; so that it is very natural that I should wish to enjoy a little repose during the day; and instead of acceding to my request, which a courteous man would have done, monsieur enters my room as if it were a public square, he calls me his 'old man,' and a marmotte, and threatens me with his wrath if I venture to complain again!—Do you know, monsieur, that it is doubly cowardly to insult an old man who is ill and cannot defend himself?"
Little Saint-Arthur, who felt very ill at ease, and had lost all his swagger, replied in a faltering voice:
"But, monsieur, I don't know whether—I don't understand—I——"
"Well, monsieur, I will tell you something, and that is that you were not such a coward as you thought. That surprises you, doesn't it? But this is how it is: in the first place, I am not so old as I look; misfortune and disease age a man very rapidly, monsieur; and secondly, although caught by my one leg, I am in a condition to demand satisfaction for an insult, and you are going to have a proof of it."
Thereupon, rolling his chair to his desk, Roncherolle opened it and took out a pair of pistols, which he handed to his neighbor, saying:
"Look you, with these, we will sit, each at one end of the room, and blow each other's brains out as nicely as possible. Come, monsieur, take one; they are loaded; I am a far-sighted man, you see!"
Saint-Arthur had turned as pale as a turnip; he leaned against a piece of furniture to hold himself up, and glanced toward the door. But Roncherolle continued, raising his voice:
"Come, monsieur, take one and let us have done with it; you came to my room to laugh, you say; well, it seems to me that we are going to enjoy ourselves. What makes you look at the door like that? Can it possibly be that you would like to deprive me of your company? I warn you that that will not do you much good, for I will have my chair rolled to your room, I will roll it there myself if necessary, and I won't stir until you have given me satisfaction."
"Why, this old fellow is evidently an inveterate duelist!" said Saint-Arthur to himself, supporting himself on whatever came under his hand. Soon, seeing that retreat was impossible, he formed a heroic resolution, and going up to Roncherolle, he bowed humbly before him, saying in a voice which fright rendered almost touching:
"Monsieur, I am really ashamed of what I did; I am confused beyond words; I behaved like a hare-brained boy, like a poor—I may as well say it, like a blockhead. I can't imagine what I was thinking of; that is to say, yes, I do know,—I had wine at my breakfast, which I am not used to, and it must have gone to my head. I realize how badly I behaved, and I regret it; I withdraw the absurd remarks which I may have made to you, I withdraw them; in fact, I offer my apologies for all that has taken place; pray accept them and do not be offended with one who henceforth will devote all his efforts to be agreeable to you."
Roncherolle looked at the young man for a moment, then shook his head and said:
"Is it true that you were a little tipsy?"
"It is true that I was a good deal so; I drank six petits verres, and then I drank champagne."
"And you are not strong at that game, perhaps?"
"Not very strong."
"Ah! I could give you lessons in that."
"You know how to drink champagne?"
"I should say so! I know thirty-three different ways of emptying one's glass."
"Thirty-three ways! ah! that's the sort of thing I would like to know. So you are not angry with me any longer, neighbor?"
"I cannot be, as you have apologized."
"I repeat my apology."
"And if you had told me sooner that you were tipsy——"
"True, I should have begun with that when I entered the room. As for my parrot, never fear, my dear neighbor, you won't hear from him any more. I have a dressing room beyond my two rooms; that is a long distance from you, and if I close all the doors, I think that you will not be able to hear him talk."
"Very good, and on my side, I hope not to be confined to the house long. Then, as I seldom come home except to go to bed, you can teach your parrot to talk at your ease."
"My dear neighbor, I am overjoyed that this little discussion has afforded me the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I see that you are a man who has lived—when one knows thirty-three ways of drinking champagne!"
"Yes, it is true, I have lived, and very well—too well apparently, as they say that that's the cause of my gout."
"As soon as you are cured, I hope to dine with you; will you do me the honor to accept an invitation?"
"Why not? I have never refused an opportunity to enjoy myself, and I don't propose to do so now."
"I will take you to dinner with a fascinating woman, an actress on the boulevard. That will not offend you?"
"Offend me? far from it! in the old days, I would have invited you to dine with four."
"Bravo! bravissimo! I see that we are made to get along together; you are very jovial."
"I am much more so when I am not ill."
"Wait—just wait three minutes, if you please; I am going to make an experiment with Coco."
Saint-Arthur hastily left Roncherolle and went to his room where he was heard to close several doors. After a few moments he returned and asked:
"Well, did you hear?"
"What?"
"Did you hear my bird talking?"
"Ah! victory! I took him into the little dressing room, beyond the two rooms, and there he will stay. I made him talk a great deal, in fact."
"Did he say: 'Dutaillis is lovely?'"
"No, he said: 'Good-day, Monsieur Brillant!' but I will teach him, I will persist, and so long as it doesn't inconvenience you——"
"I can't hear it at all now."
"Then it will go all by itself. Au revoir, my dear neighbor; overjoyed to make your acquaintance. You will allow me to come and inquire for your health?"
"Whenever you please."
"I shall please often. Au revoir then; at your service; don't move."
"Oh! there's no danger of that!"
"To be sure; I keep forgetting your gout; what a thoughtless creature I am!—Your servant."
Saint-Arthur bowed to the ground this time, then left the house, saying to Beauvinet, whom he passed on the way:
"I have seen the gentleman who rooms beside me, and he is a delightful man, a man of the greatest merit, a man whom I expect to see a great deal of; and sapristi! no one had better speak ill of him in my presence; whoever does so will have me to reckon with!"
The young man of the house was thunderstruck at these words, and in his effort to recover his wits, he pulled his wig over his left ear.
XXIX
A HIGH FLYER
Thus Saint-Arthur became, as to Monsieur de Roncherolle, a zealous, courteous, obliging, and above all, a very neighborly neighbor. The little dandy, seeing the gouty gentleman frequently, was astonished to find him possessed of much intelligence and joviality, with a piquant, original way of telling a story, and a memory abundantly supplied with comical, entertaining and sometimes rather risqué anecdotes; but in Saint-Arthur's eyes this last quality doubled their merit; he tried to remember some of the tales that Roncherolle had told him, and went off to repeat them to his mistress, who was greatly amused and said to him:
"My word! why, you know any number of funny stories now! it's amazing, my dear; do you know that you are really getting to be amusing; can it be that you have some wit of your own? Oh! how well you have concealed your capacity!"
"Why, yes, I have concealed it," replied Saint-Arthur, stroking his chin; "I'm concealing lots of other things, too."
"Oh! you surprise me more and more, my dear."
Roncherolle, being forced to keep his room, was not sorry someone should come to visit him; the nonsense of his little messenger made him laugh; the story of his new friend's bonnes fortunes diverted him mightily; and when Saint-Arthur said to him: "Don't you think that I am a fortunate mortal with the ladies?" he would reply with a slight shrug: "It's a fact that the ladies are very fond of men like you."
Saint-Arthur asked his neighbor several times to teach him some of his methods of drinking champagne; but Roncherolle simply smiled and replied:
"Those things can't be taught except at the table."
At last the gout entirely disappeared, and one day Saint-Arthur failed to find Roncherolle in his room; he was sorely disappointed, for his neighbor's witty conversation had become necessary to him; he retained some scraps of it now and then. It is always well to frequent people of intelligence, they allow themselves to be robbed so readily!
The little dandy rose early the next day, in order to find his neighbor before he went out; he caught him as he was leaving his bed and said to him:
"You are better, I see, as you go out now?"
"Thank God! did you expect me to remain in that old easy-chair forever?"
"No, of course not; I am delighted that you are better; but I missed you yesterday, because, when I talk with you, I always remember some of the funny little stories that you tell so well, and I amuse Zizi with them. Yesterday, I had nothing at all to tell her, and she called me stupid; that's just a way of speaking, you know——"
"I understand perfectly.—I am very sorry, but your charmer may find you stupid again to-day, for I have no inclination to keep my room, in order to tell you stories."
"And that isn't what I came to ask you to do, but something much better. Will you do us the honor to dine with us to-day?"
"Where?"
"At Bonvalet's, corner of Rue Chariot."
"Oh! I know Bonvalet's! I have often dined there."
"Well, does it suit you to-day?"
"It suits me very well."
"Ah! you delight me. There will be Zizi Dutaillis, you know."
"Yes, you have already told me that. I shall be enchanted to make her acquaintance; I have always been very fond of professional ladies."
"There will also be a friend of mine, an author—Monsieur Jéricourt; do you know him?"
"I never heard of him."
"He's a fellow of great talent, who will go a long way."
"Who says so? himself?"
"No, a newspaper that he writes for."
"Oh! that amounts to the same thing. However, I will give your friend credit for as much talent as you choose; I am of an obliging disposition."
"We will dine at half-past five; I know that it's bad form to dine so early, but it's on Zizi's account; she acts in the last play, and there is no fun in hurrying."
"All right! I promise to be punctual."
"Very good! By the way, you will teach me the thirty-three ways of drinking champagne, won't you?"
"You won't be able to learn all thirty-three at one sitting. That would be too great a risk to take. But we will do our best."
"That's right; we will learn as many as possible.—Until to-night."
At precisely half after five, Monsieur de Roncherolle, having donned his least threadbare coat and the one which fitted him best at the waist, a tight pair of trousers, a snow-white waistcoat, patent leather shoes, a black satin cravat tied in a dainty knot, and with his hat a little on one side, arrived at Bonvalet's, leaning not too heavily on his cane, and asked for Monsieur de Saint-Arthur's private room. A zealous waiter escorted him and opened the door of a pleasant room, just large enough for four people to be neither too crowded nor too much at their ease.
Mademoiselle Zizi Dutaillis was three-fourths reclining on a divan, toying with a lovely bouquet which her lover had just given her, and taking a flower from it now and then to put in her fair hair, after which she glanced at herself in a mirror. The young actress wore a bewitching pink and black costume, a medley of silk, velvet and lace, which strikingly resembled those of the famous Spanish dancers who were kind enough to come to Paris to introduce us to the charms of the genuine dances of their country. That costume was very becoming to the young woman, who, with her black eyes, her tiny mouth, her very dark eyelashes and her very light hair, was the most coquettish and saucy little minx that it was possible to find in the boulevard theatres.
Saint-Arthur, who was at the window, ran to meet Roncherolle.
"Ah! how good of you!" he cried; "you are a punctual man!"
"I never knew what it was to keep ladies waiting," said the newcomer, saluting Mademoiselle Zizi; she had not quitted her horizontal position when she saw the guest enter, and gave him an unceremonious little nod and said:
"Bonjour, monsieur."
"Mademoiselle Dutaillis," said the little dandy, taking his neighbor's hand and assuming a solemn expression, "I have the honor of presenting Monsieur de Roncherolle, my neighbor, who has been pleased to accept the invitation which—in your name as well as in mine—to have the pleasure——"
"Bah! that's enough! have you finished? You tire us with your speeches! Monsieur will present himself all right; we're here to have a spree and get a little tight. There's no need of making a lot of fuss to say that, is there, monsieur?"
"Bravo! that's the kind of a speech I like!" said Roncherolle, taking Zizi's hand and patting it; "and if I were more active, I would say also: this is the kind of woman I like!"
"Listen to that! you're not shy! You're an old rounder, you are; anyone can see that right away. You have made a fool of yourself for women, haven't you?"
"I glory in it; I have but one regret, and that is that I can't do it any more!"
"Do you hear, Alfred? Take monsieur for your model. Let his cane be your oriflamme! You will always find him on the path of glory!"
As she spoke, Zizi had taken possession of Roncherolle's cane; she thrust it into a mustard pot on the table and waved cane and mustard pot in the air. Roncherolle sank on a chair, laughing till the tears came; but Saint-Arthur cried out, because she had spattered him with the mustard, which he had received in the eye and on his waistcoat.
"Sapristi! take care, Zizi; see what you've done; you're spattering mustard on my waistcoat."
"What a calamity! Waistcoats can be cleaned, my friend."
"But you have also thrown some into my eye!"
"Eyes can be cleaned too."
"It stings me horribly."
"That will make your sight clearer; and perhaps you are going to see things you don't expect, which will dazzle you! So don't cry, but attend to the important business that brings us together—the grub! Have you given your order? I'm very hungry myself; and you, monsieur?"
"I am well disposed to vie with you."
"With a fork only?"
"Ah! be careful; your eyes are the best remedy for the gout, I believe."
"Oho! if I was sure of that, I'd apply for a patent for my eyes.—By the way, Frefred, what about that rare bird, that miraculous bird, you were to give me? When will he appear? Are we going to eat him roasted?"
"I should think not! That would be a great shame, for he is magnificent. But I am perfecting his education; I'll give him to you when he is able to say pretty things."
"I am sure that you are not teaching him anything at all."
"Oh! ask my neighbor; he'll tell you that it was my cockatoo's education that led to our acquaintance."
"That is the truth, belle dame; oh! you will possess a very knowing bird."
"That will be a change for me, as I have never had anything but canaries.—Come, Frefred, is the dinner ordered? I am to act to-night, you know—in the last piece luckily. I don't go on till half-past ten, but I must have time to dress first; and when you have just dined and have to hurry, it swells you out and you can't get into your dresses."
"The dinner is served; I am glad to believe, my diva, that you will be content."
"I flatter myself that I shall be; besides, it's the first time you have entertained monsieur, and you ought to make it a point of honor to let him see that you have some skill in ordering a little Balthazar. Ring for the waiter, my dear boy."
"But, you see, I—I asked Jéricourt to come, and he promised."
"Bah! I don't care a hang for your Jéricourt, who always keeps us waiting. Why did you have to invite him? I've had my fill of your Jéricourt for some time past! He puts on airs and calls everything detestable that others write. And sweet things his plays are, too! people stand in line to get tickets."
"Why, Zizi, I thought it would please you; formerly you were never satisfied if Jéricourt didn't dine with us."
"Oh! formerly—that may be! but formerly and to-day—there's half a century between the two.—Say, monsieur, ought we to wait for his friend, who's always loafing, but always keeps people waiting, to give himself importance? Just exactly like the people who are slightly known in art or literature, and who, the first time a new play is given, never come till they're sure it's begun, because then everybody has to move to let them get to their stalls. And they're convinced that everyone says: 'Ah! that's So-and-so; that's the famous author! that's the celebrated artist! see—he combs his hair in a way that shows his genius!'—But instead of the exclamations of admiration that they think they call forth as they pass, if they had sharper ears, they'd hear: 'Oh! what a nuisance! what a bore! to disturb everybody in the middle of an act! The devil take the fellow! He must be very anxious to show himself! but he isn't much to look at! It's just a little bit of self-advertising! And then!'—isn't that so, monsieur?"
"Why, do you know, fascinating Zizi, that you are a keen observer?"
"I don't know what I am, but I know that I have a tremendous appetite, and that I want to dine. It's five minutes to six. We have waited a long while already."
"I agree with you, a lady should never wait for a gentleman."
Saint-Arthur rang and the waiter served the dinner. They attacked the oysters, which they watered with an excellent chablis. From time to time the host exclaimed:
"I don't care, I'm surprised that Jéricourt doesn't come; I told him that he would dine with my honorable neighbor."
"You should have announced a neighbor of the other gender," said Roncherolle; "that would have been more likely to attract the gentleman."
"Never mind! never mind! let's go on eating! He'll come for dessert and we'll give him some nuts and raisins," said Zizi.
But just as the soup was served, Jéricourt appeared; and he scowled slightly when he saw that they had not waited dinner for him.
"I say! come on, you miserable slow-coach!" cried Saint-Arthur; "don't you ever mean to be punctual?"
"What difference does it make—when you don't wait for me?" retorted Jéricourt, with a bare salute to the company.
"Wait for you!" cried Zizi; "on my word! I think not! Catch us having pains in the stomach for monsieur!"
"My friend," said Alfred, "let me present Monsieur de Roncherolle, my neighbor."
Jéricourt bent his head slightly, with a patronizing glance at Roncherolle, whose costume probably seemed to him far behind the fashion of the day. The old gentleman, observing the arrogant air with which the man of letters saluted him, made haste to say to Saint-Arthur:
"I beg pardon, my dear neighbor, but I did not ask you to present me to monsieur. Present him to me, if you please—that is all right; but that I should be presented to him—that I don't like."
Saint-Arthur was dumfounded; Jéricourt compressed his lips and the little actress began to laugh, saying:
"You don't seem to be very strong in the matter of etiquette, Alfred; you'll never be appointed an ambassador, my boy!"
Jéricourt, observing that the strange guest was of a punctilious temper and familiar with good society, decided to take the thing jocosely; and he rejoined, bowing to Roncherolle:
"In truth, it was my place to be presented to monsieur, for he has the advantage of age."
"A melancholy advantage, is it not, monsieur? But one must needs accept it when it comes."
"Will you have some oysters, Jéricourt? I'll ring for the waiter."
"No, thanks, I don't eat oysters; I don't care about them any more."
"The deuce! you don't care about oysters! Why, I've seen the time when you adored them!"
"What a donkey you are, Alfred," cried Zizi, "to be surprised because tastes change!"
"Well! my tastes never change so far as food is concerned; I love oysters, I shall always care for them."
"Perhaps it's the oysters that care for you," said Jéricourt, helping himself to soup.
"Hum! this begins well," said Roncherolle to himself, filling the actress's glass with madeira, while she glared savagely at Jéricourt. That gentleman, as he ate his soup, glanced at the gentleman opposite from time to time, and said to himself:
"I know that man; this certainly isn't the first time that I've seen him; but where in the devil have I met him?"
Roncherolle, for his part, having recognized the man of letters at the first glance, smiled slyly as he submitted to be stared at, and continued to be most attentive to his fair neighbor, who said to him, eating for four all the while:
"You please me, you do! you're a good fellow! you're worth a deal more than all these youngsters! you're as young as they are, only you've been so longer!"
At last Jéricourt, unable to contain himself, said to his vis-à-vis:
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, it seems to you perhaps that I stare at you rather persistently."
"That flatters me, monsieur; I assume that you find me pleasant to look at."
"That is not just the reason, monsieur; the fact is that it seems to me that this is not the first time we have met."
"True, monsieur; and I recognized you instantly, when you entered the room."
"Be good enough then to remind me where it was."
"It was near here—at the Château d'Eau flower market; you were bargaining for a bouquet, as was an exceedingly ugly little fellow—a friend of yours, I think—and you did not make up your mind; whereupon I arrived and put an end to your hesitation by buying the bouquet;—do you remember now?"
"Yes, monsieur, I remember very well."
And Jéricourt pressed his lips together again and scowled, because that reminder recalled no agreeable memories.
"Then there was a gamin who threw the ugly little fellow down, and as he fell he tore his trousers."
"Where?" queried Mademoiselle Zizi.
"Only on the knees."
"Bah! that isn't amusing enough!"
"There was also a young flower girl—a very pretty girl, on my word!"
"I know her," said Saint-Arthur; "she supplies me; it's Violette."
"What does she supply you with, you big monster?" cried Zizi, raising her fork to her lover, as if to stab him.
"Mon Dieu! it's simple enough, my angel; a flower girl supplies me with flowers, naturally."
"Hum! you would be quite capable of going to her for other supplies."
"O Zizi! for heaven's sake, don't be jealous like this. Besides, this flower girl is one of Jéricourt's conquests; one of his victims."
"I don't deny it, I committed that sin; and monsieur here will bear me out in saying that the little one is worth the trouble."
"I will bear you out in saying that the little one is pretty, monsieur, but that's all; for, on the day that I saw you in her company, you did not have the air of having made a conquest of her!"
"This old fellow is decidedly antipathetic to me!" said Jéricourt to himself.