"Come, Alfred! some champagne—right away! I want some champagne—and I want it frappé."
"Here it is, my siren; it's behind us, cooking in the ice.—Ah! now is the time when Monsieur de Roncherolle is going to teach us a lot of pretty things.—Jéricourt, monsieur knows thirty-three ways of drinking a glass of champagne!"
"Monsieur is quite capable of it."
"For my experiments," said Roncherolle, "I must have cups, not goblets."
"Here are some; I ordered two kinds of glasses."
"I fill my glass—this is the first way; attention!"
Roncherolle coolly emptied his glass and said:
"First of all, there's that way—to drink as everybody else does."
"Oh! I know that."
"It's lucky that you know one," said Zizi; "otherwise it might be thought that you had to be driven to water."
"Let us go on to the second way."
"You will allow me to eat a little sweetbread first?"
"That is only fair."
"Otherwise," sneered Jéricourt, "one might think that you invited monsieur to dinner for the sole purpose of learning to drink."
"And if that were so," rejoined Roncherolle, "I should not bear my neighbor a grudge; that would prove that I am still good for something, and one so often entertains people who are good for nothing!"
"The second way, my dear fellow, the second way!" said Zizi, with a playful tap on Roncherolle's cheek.
"At your service, belle dame.—Look—this glass is full; I put it on this plate, and the point is to drain it without touching it with the hands or spilling a drop."
"Oh! that must be extremely difficult—I will go farther and say that it seems to me impossible," said Saint-Arthur.
"Not at all—look."
Roncherolle took the plate on which the glass stood, lifted it, put the glass to his lips, then tipped it toward his mouth, still holding it steady with the plate, and swallowed all it contained.
"Ah! charming, delightful!" cried Alfred.
"I have seen that done before, but I had forgotten it," said Zizi; "wait; I believe that I can do it."
The young actress did exactly as Roncherolle had done, and succeeded perfectly.
"It's your turn, Jéricourt."
"Do that! why that's the ass's bridge!" replied the man of letters, with a shrug.
"Well, do it then."
"No, I didn't come to dinner to play tricks."
"That's a pity," said Roncherolle, "for I am sure that monsieur must know some that we do not."
"In that case," said Saint-Arthur, filling a glass to the brim with champagne and putting it on a plate, "it's my turn; now that I have seen the thing done twice, I don't see why I shouldn't do it too; I am no more of a fool than other people."
"That's too bad, my dear; if you were, it would be a way of attracting attention!"
"Hush, Zizi! don't say nasty things, but watch; I am going to begin."
The pretty youth succeeded in raising the glass to his lips, but just as he was about to drink, he lifted the plate too high, and all the contents of the glass fell on his shirt and his cravat. Alfred cried aloud in dismay, while his three guests roared with laughter, that incident having restored Jéricourt's good humor.
"Sapristi! I am done for. I was on the edge of success, for I certainly should have drunk it all without spilling a drop."
"But you didn't spill a drop," said Roncherolle; "the whole business went."
"I am wet through, my shirt is drenched and my cravat; what shall I do? I can't show myself in this condition."
"Well then, don't show yourself, my friend, keep out of sight. At all events, it will be dark when you leave here, and you'll only need to button your coat military fashion; that will give you the air of a hero, it will change you completely."
"But I am all wet, I am——"
"Nonsense! take a napkin and wipe yourself, and above all things don't be sulky; we came here to enjoy ourselves, and you still have to learn thirty-one ways of drinking champagne."
Saint-Arthur made no reply; he stuffed three napkins into his bosom and began to eat again.
"Deuce take it! my dear man," said Jéricourt, drinking his wine slowly, "that is what comes of trying to learn original things in order to make yourself agreeable in society; you don't always succeed."
"In fact, there are some people who never succeed," observed Roncherolle.
"I request a suspension of the lessons in drinking champagne," said Alfred; "I must dry myself before attempting anything else."
"We consent," said Zizi, "on condition that it is not to interfere with our drinking."
"It seems to me that you are doing very well," said Jéricourt; "you will be rather gay in your play to-night!"
"So much the better! The play lacks gayety, and I shall do well to impart a little to it."
"I came near acting once," said the host, still sponging himself. "Do you remember, Jéricourt, that place in the country you took me to some weeks ago—at Nogent-sur-Marne?"
"Yes, it was very amusing."
"There was one thing that I didn't call amusing, and that was being obliged to escort that lady back to Paris—an ex-pretty woman."
"Why were you such a fool as to tell her that we had a coupé waiting? She instantly caught the ball on the bound and asked us to give her a little room in our carriage."
"Little was hardly the word; that lady may have been thin once, but she isn't now."
"Ah! I never heard of this lady that you brought home!" cried the young actress, with an American glance at her lover. "That has rather a crooked look!"
"Oh! really, my diva, when I tell you that she was on the decline!"
"It seems to me that you too were on the decline—with her."
"However, she was a woman of great distinction, a baroness!"
"Listen to that! monsieur must have baronesses now!"
"The Baronne de—de Grangeville—that's the name."
"De Grangeville?" said Roncherolle, who, on hearing that name, replaced on the table the glass that he was about to put to his lips. "Did you say that the lady you brought home was the Baronne de Grangeville?"
"Yes, my dear neighbor; do you know her?"
"No—that is to say, her name recalled a person whom I used to know."
Roncherolle had become thoughtful; Zizi tapped him on the knee, saying:
"Well, well, tell us what you're dreaming about, my Knight of the Round Table? Is that baroness's name going to spoil your spirits? I don't propose to have that! Don't let me hear any more of your great ladies; I call for a third way of drinking champagne."
"Here! present!" said Roncherolle, resuming his playful air. "See, my dear girl, here is a third way: we put the glass on the plate like this just now, didn't we? Well, now we are going to stand this second glass on the first one; that is easy enough; but then we fill the glass that is on top, and drink the contents by lifting the plate as we did just now, without touching either glass."
"Oh! that must be terribly hard!"
"Look—here goes."
Roncherolle performed the feat he had described, without spilling a drop of wine. Saint-Arthur was lost in admiration, but Jéricourt muttered as he tipped back in his chair:
"I have seen clowns on the boulevard do that."
Roncherolle glared at Jéricourt with a half-angry, half-bantering expression, saying: "In truth, monsieur, I was a clown a very long while! And with the permission of the company, I will undertake to make you as flat as this knife blade in a very few moments."
Jéricourt did not know what reply to make. Zizi, who, with the tact which all women possess, divined a quarrel on the point of breaking out, made haste to say to Roncherolle:
"Come, my dear gallant, since you are so obliging and are willing to instruct us in your science, show me again what you have just done, and I will try to copy you; I will be your assistant."
"I shan't try this third way of drinking," said Saint-Arthur, "except in my own room and with unsophisticated water."
"You will do well, my boy, for you would break too many glasses here."
The young actress did what Roncherolle had just shown them, and did it with equal success.
"Bravo! bravo!" cried the host. "Honor to Zizi! You know three ways already, dear love!"
"And I don't propose to stop at that."
"These ladies succeed in whatever they choose to undertake," said Roncherolle.
Jéricourt, with a curl of his lip, muttered:
"Madame Saqui could do no better!"
"Oh! you always look as if you were sneering!" said Zizi; "but you would be hard put to it to do as much. It's easy to criticise, my dear man!"
"This much is certain, that I shall not venture to contend with you."
"Because you realize your inferiority."
"But I am waiting till you come to the thirty-third way. I fancy that you will do some very extraordinary things then!"
"Oh! my boy, we're not such fools. We mean to have some fun, to get a little screwed, but we don't propose to get drunk. We will learn one more way and that will do for to-night; what do you say, my gallant?"
"As you command, belle dame."
"Why, do you know that you're a hard-headed party? Champagne doesn't seem to affect you at all. You drink more than we do, and you don't seem to notice it."
"That is the result of my long studies—another advantage of age!"
"Look at Alfred; he hasn't drunk half as much as you, I'll bet, and his eyes are in curl-papers already; anyone would think he was going to sleep."
"I—oh! I haven't any desire to sleep; I was engaged in thought."
"Of the baroness whom he escorted home, no doubt!" said Jéricourt, with an ironical glance at the gentleman who aroused his displeasure, and whose emotion at the mention of the baroness's name he had noticed.
"Are you going to stuff us some more with your titled lady?" cried Mademoiselle Zizi; "bah! what a tease this Jéricourt is!"
"That subject bores you, my sweet angel; forgive me, I won't mention that lady again. However, I believe that this Madame de Grangeville is nothing more than a counterfeit baroness."
"What makes you think so, monsieur? By what right do you insult that lady?" demanded Roncherolle, in a tone in which there was no trace of jesting, and with a by no means amicable glance at the man of letters.
"What! I insult her? Why do you set yourself up as the lady's champion, monsieur, if you don't know her?"
"I do know her, monsieur, and I have a right to defend her. The Baronne de Grangeville is more noble than you are eminent in letters; but perhaps that is not saying overmuch for her nobility."
"You are attacking me now, monsieur; do you mean to insult me?"
"Come, come, messieurs! upon my word! how is this? do you propose to quarrel now?" murmured Alfred, whose mouth had become dry and sticky. "I won't have it; I——"
"Hold your tongue, Bibi!" cried Mademoiselle Zizi. "Don't you see that it's a joke? It would be pretty, wouldn't it, to come to dinner with a lady and take to squabbling in her presence!—In the first place, I believe monsieur is too well bred for that; and as for Jéricourt, he knows well enough that it doesn't pay to make me angry; I have ways of revenging myself! Come; let's have no more talk about it, and our dear neighbor will show us the fourth way to drink champagne; and everybody must try to imitate him this time. What do you say, my dear friend?"
"I told you just now, belle dame, that I am always at your service."
"Good! now you are agreeable again."
While Roncherolle filled his glass, Jéricourt rose, took his hat, and said, bowing coldly to the company:
"It is eight o'clock and I have an appointment at that hour; I am distressed that I cannot stay longer."
"What! leaving us so early?" faltered Alfred.
"Liberty! libertas!" said Zizi; "all sorts of good wishes, monsieur!"
When Jéricourt had left the room, the young woman sprang to her feet and began to dance a sort of cachucha in front of the mirror, singing:
"Faith!" said Roncherolle, "I must tell you frankly, my dear Monsieur Saint-Arthur, that Monsieur Jéricourt doesn't attract me at all, and that I ask you as a favor not to invite me to dine with him again!"
"Nor me; I won't dine with that ill-licked fellow any more; do you hear, my dear?"
"I hear.—But let's see the fourth way."
"Attention!—You must sing: 'When the bells of the village ring the hour of work, eh bon, bon, bon!' I have my glass full, I drink after your three bons, and I answer bon. You repeat eh bon bon bon three times; I answer bon every time, after drinking; and when I say bon the last time I must have finished my glass."
"Fichtre! that's rather complicated!"
"Not at all; it's simply a matter of emptying your glass in three swallows; you mustn't begin till after the eh bon bon bon, and you must finish it before you say the last bon.—Sing, fair Zizi."
"Here goes!
Roncherolle, after drinking:
"Bon!"
Zizi:
"Eh bon bon bon!"
Roncherolle:
"Bon!"
Zizi:
"Eh bon bon——"
"Bon! and you see, it's empty!"
"Ah! that's a very pretty way!—It's my turn; fill my glass, old fellow, and sing; I'm ready."
Roncherolle sang and Mademoiselle Zizi drank, answered bon, and swallowed her wine at one gulp.
"You went a little fast," said the professor; "but never mind, you'll do it all right."
"My turn!" cried Alfred, lifting his glass in a hand that was far from steady. "Sing, and you'll see; I'm sure of succeeding at this method; I am waiting at the post."
Mademoiselle Zizi sang the ballad. At the first bon bon! Saint-Arthur spilt his wine on the floor; at the second he struck his nose with his glass; and at the third he swallowed the wrong way and strangled; they were obliged to pound him on the back and make him look at the ceiling, in order to bring him to life.
"My dear boy, I think that you have done enough for to-day," said Zizi; "you are not adroit to-night, and I don't want you to learn any more ways.—Great heaven! it's nine o'clock! I must go and dress—I wear a costume that it takes a long while to put on.—I say, I'm a little dizzy; but no matter! it will pass off on the stage.—Adieu, monsieur; I hope to see you again."
"Are you going away alone?"
"I have only to cross the boulevard. Alfred, you will come to my dressing-room for me at half-past eleven, not a minute earlier; I forbid you."
"Yes, dear angel.—Isn't she enchanting, neighbor, with that little demoniacal expression?"
"And he'd like me not to love anybody but him, the idiot!" whispered Zizi in Roncherolle's ear; "can you imagine such conceit?"
"That certainly would be a great pity."
Mademoiselle Zizi disappeared. Alfred paid the waiter, doing his utmost to stand erect on his legs.
Roncherolle took his arm, to help him to go downstairs, and before leaving him on the boulevard, said:
"Do me the favor to give me the address of the lady whom you took home—the Baronne de Grangeville."
"Ah! the Baronne de—you want to know her address? Villain! monster! you have criminal designs!"
"Perhaps so—but her address."
"Wait—I know it perfectly."
"Well then, where is it?"
"Ah!—Rue de—what do you call it—you know it well enough!"
"If you should tell me the name, I should know it better."
"Rue—parbleu! Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges; number 21 or 24—it's in the twenties."
"Infinitely obliged."
"Au revoir, my dear friend! I'm going to the Café Turc for a game of billiards; I feel in condition to make fifteen cannons in succession."
"Much pleasure to you."
And Roncherolle walked away, saying:
"I know her address at last! To-morrow I will carry her a bouquet myself."
But our plans are traced on sand; and then too, sad as it is to admit it, champagne is not really good for the gout.
On the day following that dinner party, during which Roncherolle had given instruction in such pleasant matters, instead of going as he hoped to pay a visit to the Baronne de Grangeville, he was obliged to keep his bed; his gout had returned, more obstinate and more painful than ever; the poor invalid lost his temper, complained, swore like one possessed, because it seemed to him that that relieved him; and finally he said to himself:
"I won't give any more lessons in drinking champagne."
At the end of three days, all that Roncherolle could do was to lie at full length in his reclining chair, with his foot on cushions; then, as he could not hope to leave the house for some time, he sent the young man of the house, Beauvinet, to bring his usual messenger; and Chicotin soon appeared before him.
"Look you, my boy," said Roncherolle, "I have been shrewder than you—I have discovered Madame de Grangeville's address."
"The deuce you have! however did you do it? You can hardly walk!"
"I could walk a few days ago, and if it hadn't been for an infernal dinner—but faith, I guess I won't curse that dinner, for I enjoyed myself hugely; and after all, if I suffer, I suffer for something; let us return to the lady; the Baronne de Grangeville lives on Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges, number 21 or 23; I am not quite sure of the number but it's in the twenties."
"Oh! that's enough, bourgeois; that's all I need; if necessary, I will try all the houses in the street."
"Very good; now take this five-franc piece; you will go and buy a bouquet for which you will pay three francs, no less, understand; don't try to cheat me."
"Oh! never you fear, bourgeois, that's all right; if the flower girl should ask only forty sous, I would give her three francs."
"But I should prefer that the girl should ask three francs; the bouquet will be finer."
"It's all right; never you fear, the bouquet will be a good one."
"When you have got it, you will take it to Madame de Grangeville from me, and you will tell her that Monsieur de Roncherolle sends his respects and that he will come to see her as soon as he can go out."
"I will say when you get over your gout."
"No, don't mention my gout, that isn't necessary. Say to her that I am indisposed; that is all, do you understand?"
"Yes, bourgeois, never fear; it will all go as if it was on wheels; and shall I come back and tell you what answer the lady gives me?"
"Naturally."
"I am off. By the way, bourgeois, perhaps you don't know, but no doubt you will soon receive a visit from a friend of yours; that happens just right; you are sick and it will amuse you."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that yesterday, no longer ago than that, I saw my old comrade Georget, a good fellow, who's in the dumps all the time because he's in love. But that's another story; it would take too long to tell you."
"I will excuse you from telling it, but come to the point at once."
"Well, while we were talking, I mentioned your name; it happens that his master at Nogent knows you and would like to see you; he didn't know your address, so I gave it to Georget."
"What is the name of this gentleman at Nogent?"
"His name is Monsieur Malberg."
"I don't know anybody by that name; your comrade must have made a mistake and taken one name for another. But go about your errand to Madame de Grangeville, and above all things buy a pretty bouquet."
"I should say so! if I didn't get a fine one for three francs, it would be funny."
Chicotin took his leave. Roncherolle stretched out his leg, made a wry face and uttered a hearty oath, because of the pain; then he laid his head on the back of his chair and tried to sleep.
Five minutes passed; the hall door opened again, and a gentleman appeared in the doorway; it was the Comte de Brévanne, who said as he glanced into the chamber:
"Monsieur de Roncherolle, if you please?"
Receiving no reply, the count decided to enter; he saw a gentleman dozing, who had not been shaved for several days, whose head was covered with a huge fur cap, which fell almost over his eyes, and who was wrapped in an old dressing gown of which it was not easy to tell the color. He shook his head, saying:
"That boy must have directed me to the wrong door, this can't be the place. Roncherolle would not live in such a wretchedly furnished room; besides, this sick old gentleman in the chair must be at home. I must try elsewhere."
Brévanne was about to go away, when Roncherolle opened his eyes and seeing a stranger in his room, cried:
"What is it? What do you want of me? Why are you here, monsieur?"
At the sound of that voice, which had not changed so much as the person to whom it belonged, the count stopped, shuddered slightly and repeated in a loud voice:
"I want Monsieur de Roncherolle."
"Well, I am De Roncherolle! what do you want of me?"
The count stepped forward; he scrutinized the man before him, and he wondered if that pale, sick creature, whose face had grown thin and indicated long suffering, who seemed to be at least sixty years old, and whose costume was far from denoting prosperous circumstances, could possibly be Roncherolle, formerly so dandified and magnificent, who was cited as a model for men of fashion, and whom all the women admired.
As for Roncherolle, for some moments he had been looking attentively at his visitor; the more he looked at him, the more keenly did his features betray the emotion which he felt; and at last when the count exclaimed:
"Is it really true that you are De Roncherolle?" he instantly replied:
"To be sure, and you are De Brévanne!"
The count recoiled, exclaiming:
"You dare to use intimate terms to me, monsieur!"
"Oh! I beg your pardon, that's true; I should not address you so; I forgot, it was the old habit; but hereafter I will be more careful. Pray sit down, monsieur le comte; I knew you at once, for, except that your hair is turning gray, you are but little changed; whereas with me it is very different; you could not believe that it was I. I have grown old rapidly, I crumbled all at once; add to that all sorts of annoyances, the change in my position, and people turning their backs upon me because I can no longer oblige them, and others because I did oblige them formerly, like Beaumont, De Marcey and De Juvigny! But I am chattering away and you are still standing; pray take a seat and be good enough to tell what brings you here."
"You ask me what brings me, monsieur!" retorted De Brévanne, still standing in front of De Roncherolle. "You ask me that! you mean that you do not divine?"
"Faith, no!"
"When you see once more the man whom you shamelessly outraged, and whom you have eluded for so many years, you do not divine that he comes to demand the satisfaction which you refused him so long ago?"
"Bah! do you really mean it's for that? What! after so long a time, after twenty years, you still think of that business?"
"There is no limitation in matters relating to honor."
"Ah! that makes a difference; you are obstinate about it. I am sorry for that; but did not I admit my fault? Didn't I ask your pardon long ago? Come, Brévanne, come, does not heaven say: 'mercy for all sins?' We were such good friends once."
"Hush! do not appeal to the memory of that friendship, which makes your conduct even more odious. But let us not waste time in useless talk; for twenty years I have been looking for you, to fight with you; I have found you to-day, and I trust that you will no longer refuse to give me satisfaction."
"Since you are bent upon it! Mon Dieu! men are supposed to become reasonable when they grow old; the fact is that they are never reasonable.—Honor! honor! oh! how right Beaumarchais was!—All this is infernally stupid, on my word!"
"Well, I will do whatever you wish; arrange it for—for—ah! ten thousand million thunders! how I suffer! how I suffer!"
A violent attack of pain seized the invalid; he turned pale, his voice died away, great drops of perspiration rolled down his cheeks, the contraction of his features proved the violence of the pain that he felt, and the count was deeply moved at sight of his suffering; he looked all about the room in search of something to help him. He saw on the mantelpiece a phial filled with a liquid; he took it and offered it to Roncherolle.
"Here, perhaps this is what you take when you have such attacks. Drink."
"No," replied Roncherolle, pushing away the phial. "Let me suffer; I have well earned it; you see what I am reduced to; if you kill me, instead of punishing me you will do me a favor."
"Monsieur," said the count, "the duel cannot take place while you are in this condition, I appreciate that; I must wait until you are cured, in order that I may have an adversary worthy of me. I leave you, and I will come again a fortnight hence to learn how you are."
"Oh! as you please. Are you going?"
And with an involuntary gesture Roncherolle put out his hand to the count; but he contented himself with a slight inclination of the head, saying:
"I will send somebody to you, monsieur, to help you."
Then he took his leave, still upset by what he had seen, saying to himself:
"What a change! he is unrecognizable. Ah! he is in a still worse plight than she!"
"If he waits until I get over the gout to fight with me," said Roncherolle to himself, "I fancy that our duel is indefinitely postponed. What a devil of a man!—Ah! that attack is passing away; that is lucky.—Poor Brévanne; he has hardly changed at all; and in the bottom of my heart I was secretly glad to see him, we used to be such good friends, and I should have been so happy to renew our friendship! He would not have turned his back on me, like all those others whom I obliged long ago, and who will have nothing to say to me now, because I lent them money and they don't want to repay it. But what is done is done. Oh! these women! they are the cause of all the follies that we commit."
Beauvinet opened the hall door and put his head in, saying:
"The gentleman who just went out said that monsieur had a bad attack and needed attention; so I came——"
"Clear out and leave me in peace!" retorted Roncherolle, striking the floor angrily with his cane.
The young man did not wait for that invitation to be repeated; he disappeared like a stage shadow-figure, and slammed the door behind his back.
"But he will come again in a fortnight," reflected the invalid after a moment. "He is a man of his word, he won't fail to come; and if, as I must hope, I am in condition to walk, I shall have to meet him.—Fight with him! well, if he is obstinate about it, I will be equally obstinate.—Who is coming to disturb me now, ten thousand devils?"
"Why, it's me," said Chicotin, entering the room; "I did your errand, bourgeois, and I did it well, I flatter myself; in the first place, I bought a superb bouquet; oh! it was A No. 1; it was worth four francs rather than three. I didn't buy it of Mamzelle Violette, just to make her mad; I don't mean to buy anything more of her. But you don't care anything about that.—I went to Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges, and I found Madame la Baronne de Grangeville, not in the twenties, but at 19, but that don't make any difference. They let me in, and I found the lady sitting in a great machine. To cut it short, when I said to her: 'Madame, it is Monsieur de Roncherolle who sends you this bouquet, with all sorts of messages;' if you had seen what a jump that lady gave on her—her divan, just like a carp in the frying pan; then she said: 'Monsieur de Roncherolle! what, is he in Paris? Tell him to come and see me right away, as soon as possible; I shall expect him impatiently.'—I answered: 'Madame, certainly, to be sure—that's what he means to do; he will come as soon as he can stand on his pins'—oh, no! I didn't say pins, I said legs; and then I bowed and left, and she didn't give me anything."
"Well, keep the rest of the money I gave you."
"Thanks, bourgeois, thanks; and did your friend from Nogent come to see you?"
"Yes, yes, he came, my friend. Do you know, Chicotin, that you're a wretched chatterbox, and that I ought to pull your ears for giving anyone my address without finding out whether I wanted you to?"
"Mon Dieu! did I make a fool of myself? Isn't your friend your friend any longer?"
"Yes, you did make a fool of yourself; but I hope that you won't do it again; meanwhile, you are responsible for my having to leave this house, which, however, I hardly regret."
"Are you going to move?"
"Yes, in a few days, as soon as I can walk. But I don't propose to take furnished lodgings again; he would find me, he would visit them all. I mean to hire a room in some quiet house, and furnish it myself. That won't take long; a bed, a table, two chairs and a bureau, that is all that I need. Listen, Chicotin, while I am unable to go about, you must find those things for me, so that I shall simply have to move in as soon as I am cured. Do you understand,—just a small apartment, as neat and clean as possible; a bedroom and a study, that will be enough for me."
"All right, bourgeois, I understand; I'll look about for you. In what quarter?"
"I don't care."
"Oh! then I can find something easier. How much do you want to pay for your lodgings?"
"Hum! as little as possible; the funds are decreasing every day, my boy!"
"Do you want to go as high as eighty francs?"
"Oh, no! What next! I mean for a year."
"You can get nothing better than a garret, a kennel for that price. You may go as high as two hundred francs,—two hundred and fifty."
"In that case, bourgeois, I'll find you something fine, a little palace; I propose that you shall be more comfortable than you are now."
"You won't have much difficulty about that; try not to make me go up too many stairs."
"Pardi! for two hundred and fifty francs you ought to be able to obtain a magnificent lodging on the first floor."
"I don't think it. However, attend to it at once."
Three days after this conversation, Chicotin entered Roncherolle's room with a triumphant air; he found him getting better, and walking about the room.
"Here I am, bourgeois, I've found what you want. I think you'll be satisfied; but lodgings are dearer than I thought; I couldn't find a lodging on the first floor for your two hundred and fifty francs."
"Well, what have you found?"
"I have found two pleasant little rooms, for two hundred francs, no more; fresh paper, not colored, but you can put one on; and a view—oh! such a view! as good as if you was on the Arc de Triomphe; and all the conveniences right at your door; and a waxed staircase, not up to the top, but as far as the third floor."
"What floor is this apartment on?"
"Why, on the fifth, bourgeois!"
"Sacrebleu! I am not surprised that there is a good view; is that what you call getting me a lodging near the ground?"
"There ain't any to be had, master; but the stairs are as easy as can be; you can go up without moving your legs; and then there is a concierge who is willing to do the housework for all the tenants, at a very moderate price, and even to make the coffee."
"There are many advantages, and no mistake; where is this jewel of an apartment situated?"
"Not very far from here, monsieur, on Rue de Crussol; it's near the boulevard, near that handsome round theatre for horses, that's just been built."
"I don't know Rue de Crussol."
"If monsieur is able to walk, I will show him the way there."
"Go and fetch a carriage, and you may take me to see the lodgings."
"Right away, bourgeois."
Chicotin went out to fetch a cab, and climbed up behind when Roncherolle was inside. They stopped on Rue de Crussol in front of the house which Chicotin pointed out. An old concierge, very dirty but very polite, made repeated reverences to Roncherolle, and bustled upstairs before him, while Chicotin said to the old gentleman:
"If you don't want to go up, bourgeois, because it tires you, why I will take you on my back. I am strong and I won't drop you; I would carry you that way through the streets if you wanted."
"Thanks, my boy, but that new style of locomotion does not attract me, and I doubt whether I could make it the fashion. Besides, they say that one must walk about and exercise with the gout. So I will go up on my feet."
"If you must exercise, you see that it is much better that you should live on the fifth floor."
Roncherolle inspected the lodgings, heaved a profound sigh in spite of himself, and reflected:
"After all, what can one expect to get for two hundred francs? It's all I can afford—in fact, rather more."
He gave the concierge her earnest money, informing her that he relied upon her to do the housework and to make his coffee; whereupon the old woman redoubled her reverences and her politeness, crying:
"I hope monsieur will like our house; I shall always be ready to wait on him; whenever he needs anything, all he has got to do is to put his head out of the window and call Mère Lamort, and I will go up in a second."
"What did you say that I must call you, madame?"
"Mère Lamort."
"Ah! your name is Lamort, is it?"
"At your service, monsieur."
"You are very good; you have, I won't say a devil of a name, but a singular name, at least; an almost terrifying name."
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, that don't prevent me from being as well as can be, or from having had twelve children, who are all as well as you or I."
"For their sakes, I hope they are as well as you."
"And monsieur will see that my name don't prevent me from having a good foot and a good eye; and he'll be satisfied with my services."
"I don't doubt it; we shall meet again soon, Madame Lamort."
Roncherolle returned to his cab, and Chicotin climbed up behind again, saying to the driver:
"I am in monsieur's suite, in his suite, I say."[A]
[A] An untranslatable pun: 'Je suis de la suite de monsieur; de sa suite, j'en suis.'
Two days later, Roncherolle, having purchased just what he absolutely needed to furnish his new lodgings, paid what he owed at his quarters, and announced that they might let his room.
"Ah! monsieur is leaving us?" said Beauvinet, pulling at one side of his wig. "If anyone comes to ask for monsieur, what address shall I give?"
"You may send them to Passage I-don't-know-where, the first door to the right as you enter Paris by the Barrière de l'Etoile."
When Roncherolle had been gone a long time, the young man was still pulling at his wig, saying to himself:
"Passage I-don't-know-where! that's funny; I know all the passages in Paris except that one."
Since the Comte de Brévanne had spoken to Violette, and since she had seen Georget look at her from a distance, and then walk hastily away, with a glance of contempt at her, the young flower girl felt every day more depressed and discouraged. So long as Georget had been near her, so long as she was able to see him morning and evening, and read in his eyes the love he felt for her, the young girl had looked upon that love as a mere childish freak, and had refused to admit to herself that she shared the sentiment which she aroused.
But now that her young lover had left Paris in order to avoid being near her, now that he had fled from her, and when he met her manifested no other feeling than that of contempt or hatred, poor Violette realized how dearly she loved Georget; and, what was even more cruel, how dearly she still loved him, despite the grief he caused her.
When she learned that the gentleman who had questioned her concerning Georget was the young messenger's patron, the pretty flower girl had felt a thrill of joy, and hope had returned to her heart; she flattered herself that through the medium of Monsieur Malberg, she could convince her lover that he had done wrong to suspect her. But the abrupt way in which the count left her dispelled that hope.
However, as hope does not quickly leave a young heart, especially that of a young woman who knows that she is pretty, Violette flattered herself for several days that Georget would return to Paris, that he would pass her booth, and that he would not have the courage not to stop; then she said to herself also that this Monsieur Malberg, who had asked her so many questions concerning her age and her mother, would probably want to see her again. But the days passed and no one came, neither Georget, nor his patron. A single man passed now and then in front of the booth of the flower girl, at whom he cast insulting glances, glances which seemed to enjoy the grief that he could read on her face. That man was the author of all the girl's trials; and once even he had dared to approach her and had tried to make love to her; but thereupon Violette had risen, so indignant and so threatening, and the flashing eyes which she turned upon Jéricourt denoted such a determined resolution, and her right hand had grasped so quickly several bunches of thorns which were among her flowers, that he had walked rapidly away, and had never again attempted to enter into conversation with the flower girl.
It was ten o'clock in the morning, and Chicotin had just left Roncherolle, who was living in his new lodgings on Rue de Crussol, and, feeling that his left foot was not yet in condition to descend the five flights, had again employed his regular messenger to carry a bouquet to Madame de Grangeville and to inquire for her health. But as the unfortunate victim of the gout saw his resources diminish every day, he had told Chicotin to buy a bouquet for one franc instead of three.
The ci-devant lady-killer was still gallant; but his fortune no longer permitted him to be gallant in the same measure as of yore.
Chicotin walked along Boulevard du Château d'Eau, with his franc in his hand; and as it was not flower market day, there were very few dealers in evidence; and the flower girls who were in their places had very few violets, which doubtless were also scarce at that moment.
The pretty flower girl who bore the name of that flower was the only one supplied with them; she had some large and fine bunches.
"Sapristi!" said Chicotin to himself, as he turned over some miserable little bunches at two sous which another flower girl offered him; "this isn't what I want; I can't carry such things as these to the lady on Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges; for when one buys only one kind of flower for a franc, one ought to get a fine bunch."
"You think so, do you, sonny? Perhaps you don't know that violets are out of season just now. See, I will tie these four little bunches that I have left all together and they will make a very pretty bouquet."
"Not much! I don't want 'em; your bunches are all withered; they look as if they had been used before."
"What a stupid little animal!"
Chicotin walked away from her, saying to himself:
"It's no use for me to look, there's only one flower girl who has any real good bunches of what I am looking for, and that's Violette; but I have sworn not to buy anything of her since I knew that she deceived poor Georget. However, I must do my errand, and I don't know whether I shall find violets anywhere else. After all, you buy of a person and pay her and that's the end of it; that don't make you friends; and then, she don't ask so much as the others; I'll go to her."
So Chicotin walked to the girl's booth and examined her bouquets.
"Ah! is it you, Chicotin?" cried Violette, as she recognized Georget's friend. "It's a long time since I've seen you; it's a strange thing how all my old acqaintances have gone away, I don't know where. Have you done like your friend Georget? Have you stopped standing on the boulevard?"
"How much do you ask for this bunch, mamzelle?"
"I say, Chicotin, do you ever see your friend Georget? for of course he must come to Paris from time to time."
"This big bunch of violets, mamzelle, I ask you how much it is."
"And I ask you if you ever see Georget? It seems to me you might answer me."
"Mamzelle, I came here to buy some violets and not for anything else. I buy them of you, because you're the only one that's got any good ones; if it wasn't for that——"
"If it wasn't for that—well, what? Come, finish what you were going to say."
"Well! I was going to say that if it wasn't for that I wouldn't have spoken to you."
"What, you too, Chicotin? Why, has it gone so far that I must receive insults from everybody? that everybody is going to insult me? Ah! that's a shame! what have I done to you, that you should say that to me?"
"To me—you haven't done anything to me personally, but you have to somebody else, somebody I'm very fond of, who's my friend; you've made him unhappy, and when anyone treat my friends bad, I always take a hand in it."
"Ah! Georget has told you too——"
"Yes, mamzelle, he has told me—mon Dieu! you know well enough what he must have told me,—that he couldn't love you any longer, because you—but no matter—How much for this big bunch, mamzelle?"
"And you believed all that too; you are convinced that I am a girl without honor, without shame?"
"Mamzelle, I give you my word that I didn't believe it right away; no, indeed; and that I didn't want to believe it at all; but when you are certain of a thing—look you, just consider that Georget and I followed that dandified Monsieur Jéricourt a whole day, to make him speak; I begged him to tell me the truth about you."
"Monsieur Jéricourt—well?"
"Well! he called me a fool; he said that when a girl went—How much for this bunch, if you please?"
"Ah! the coward! the villain! but he lied, Chicotin, I swear to you that he lied!"
"Oh! mamzelle, everybody knows that women never admit such things; if only nobody had seen you; but as someone did see you, nothing you can say will make me believe—Well, if you're not crying now! I'm sorry for it, I don't like to make anybody cry; but it ain't my fault; I didn't say a word about this; it was you who would talk about it; it worries me to see you cry, and I'll go away, as you won't tell me how much this big bunch of violets is."
"Whatever you please," faltered the girl, holding her handkerchief to her eyes.
"Mon Dieu! I can't pay more than twenty sous, mamzelle."
"All right, that's enough; take it."
"Yes, mamzelle, I will take it; here's the twenty sous. Adieu, mamzelle."
Chicotin took the bouquet and walked away very fast, because he felt that if he remained longer with the flower girl he would be quite capable of crying with her.
Violette wiped her eyes and tried to keep back her tears; but this fresh blow had wounded her heart too deeply; she felt too unhappy, and was absolutely determined to extricate herself from that position. Throughout the day she cudgelled her brains trying to think whom she could apply to for good advice; she felt that she must have a friend, a protector to defend her, to assist her to justify herself. But in vain did the poor girl cast her eyes about; fatherless and motherless, she was also friendless since Georget believed her guilty. At last, an idea, a last hope presented itself to her mind; despite the haste with which Monsieur Malberg had left her, it had seemed to her that he had felt some interest in her; the questions he had asked, the extreme attention with which he had gazed upon her, everything led her to suppose that something spoke to him in her favor; moreover, all the good that she had heard of that strange man, and the benefactions which he had heaped upon Georget and his mother, finally confirmed her in her determination. She decided to go to Nogent, and to appeal to Georget's patron for aid and protection; and she flattered herself that he would not turn her away. Somewhat tranquillized by this hope, Violette went to sleep less unhappy, saying to herself:
"To-morrow morning I will go to Nogent."
On the fifteenth day after his visit to Monsieur de Roncherolle, the Comte de Brévanne did not fail to return to the furnished apartment on Rue de Bretagne. As he was starting upstairs, Beauvinet stopped him, saying:
"Whose room is monsieur going to?"
"To Monsieur de Roncherolle's; I know that it is on the third floor!"
"Yes, it was on the third floor, but as the tenant has left, it ain't worth while for monsieur to go up."
"He has left?—He has gone out, you mean, don't you?"
"No, monsieur, no; he has gone away, he has left our house."
"Left your house! when, pray?"
"About ten days ago."
"And where does he live now? He must have left you his address?"
"His address—yes, monsieur; he lives on Passage I-don't-know-where, first door to the right when you enter Paris by Barrière de l'Etoile."
The count, who was in a very bad humor already, administered a hasty kick on the young man's posterior, and left the house in a rage, saying:
"Let that teach you to make such idiotic answers to me!—Gone! gone! he has escaped me again!" said Monsieur de Brévanne to himself as he went away; "he has sworn that he will not fight with me! Gone! but he could not stand on his legs; so he must have been carried, and it is impossible that he can have left Paris; a man doesn't travel when he is helpless, and above all when he has no money. Judging from what I saw, his circumstances were not prosperous. Shall I have him hunted for in Paris again? No, I will wait until chance once more brings me face to face with him. But I am sorry not to have seen him again; I would have tried to find out—but no, I could never have asked him that!"
Monsieur de Brévanne was about to return to his estate in the country, thoughtful, and dissatisfied with himself, when he suddenly remembered that Monsieur de Merval had given him his address in Paris; so he took a cab and was driven there.
"This is a pleasant surprise," said Monsieur de Merval to the count. "I hardly expected to see you before the bad weather begins; for the autumn will soon be here, and we are having the last fine days."
"My dear sir, do not be too grateful for my visit; a powerful motive brought me to Paris to-day."
"Why, it is true, I had not noticed—you seem to have had some keen disappointment; can I help you in any way?"
"Have you time to listen to me?"
"Always."
Thereupon Monsieur de Brévanne informed Monsieur de Merval that he had found Roncherolle; he described the visit he had paid him, and told him of the useless proceeding which had been the result of his first visit.
"You see," said Monsieur de Brévanne as he finished his narrative, "he has escaped me again; he denies me the satisfaction which I have a right to expect from him; he runs away without leaving his address; he does not want me to find him! What do you think of such conduct?"
Monsieur de Merval shook his head, and after a moment replied:
"Do you desire my real opinion?"
"To be sure."
"Well, if you wish me to tell you my thought, I consider that Roncherolle has done well."
"Done well? to refuse to give satisfaction to the man whom he has insulted? done well to run away, to act like a coward? Ah! I don't understand you, Monsieur de Merval!"
"Please listen to me calmly. In the first place, Roncherolle is not a coward, as we all know; if he runs away from you, it isn't because he's afraid of death. Mon Dieu! he told you so himself; ruined, suffering torture in his bed three-fourths of the time, do you think that you would punish him by depriving him of life? No. You will kill him, for you know very well that he will never aim his weapon at you; you will kill him—you have a right to, and no one would consider it a crime on your part; but when you have accomplished this act of vengeance, will you be any happier? No, no! on the contrary, you will be much less so. I could have understood this duel in the days just after the insult, although it would still have caused you remorse in the future; but after twenty years, when the heroes of the episode are so different from what they were, when it seems that Providence has undertaken to punish the guilty, you would hunt down a miserable wretch, who for twenty years past must have cursed a misstep which deprived him of a genuine friend, whom he has never replaced! No, no; do not do it; leave time to act; it is inexorable; and when we forgive those who have offended us, be sure that every day time takes it upon itself to make them understand how heavily they have laden their future with remorse and regret by yielding in their youth to a guilty passion, a guilty sentiment!"
The count listened to Monsieur de Merval without interrupting him, and seemed to reflect deeply. After quite a long silence, he raised his eyes to Monsieur de Merval's face, and gazed fixedly at him, saying:
"But that is not all, you have not told me all that you know; there is something else."
"What? what do you mean? why do you suppose that I know anything else of interest to you?"
"Because now I remember your questions. I do not know how you were able to discover a secret which had remained a secret to me down to this day; however, I mean this—that of that criminal connection—between Roncherolle and her who bore my name—there was—there was a child born; is that true?"
"Yes, that is true."
"Ah! you knew it then, did you?"
"Chance, one of those circumstances which one cannot foresee, led to my discovering that mystery; this is how it happened: a year after you left your wife,—observe that date, a year after, and I am certain of what I tell you,—I had been passing a few days at the country house of a friend at Ermenonville. Finding myself in the neighborhood of the lovely spot where Rosseau's tomb is situated, I took it into my head to stop there; in my childhood I had been taken to visit that village, which is overflowing with reminiscences of the illustrious author of Emile. But I find that one sees with more pleasure and interest at thirty years than at fifteen whatever speaks to the mind, the soul and the heart.—I had taken rooms at the best inn, which was, I believe, the only one in the village; I intended to pass two days at Ermenonville, to revisit the park, the desert, the island, in fact all those charming and poetic spots which one never tires of visiting. On the evening of my arrival there was a terrible storm. I was, I remember, in the common room of the inn; the rain was falling in torrents, and although it was September, it was quite cold, and I was glad to find a huge fire in an enormous fireplace.
"Suddenly we heard the noise of carriage wheels, which approached and stopped in front of the inn. Great surprise and great delight was felt by the inn-keeper and his wife, who did not expect guests so late, especially in such horrible weather. They ran to the door and I retained my seat in front of the fire. Soon the inn-keeper's wife returned and said to me:
"'It's a gentleman and lady, very distinguished folks, it's easy to see. His wife is in an interesting condition; she's afraid of the storm and wants to sleep here; but while we're getting a room ready for her, she's coming to sit in front of this warm fire, with monsieur's permission.'
"'Why, of course!' I said to the hostess; 'I will with very great pleasure give up this seat to the lady, which is the best one.'
"'She seems to be near her time; continued the hostess; 'it would be lucky for us for she'd have to stay here for some time.'
"As the woman stopped speaking, the travellers entered the room, and a voice which was not unknown to me exclaimed:
"'Pardieu; here's a fire that does one good to see!'
"I had retired to the end of the room. Imagine my surprise, when I recognized De Roncherolle with Madame de Grangeville on his arm, who did seem, in fact, to be in a very interesting condition. Neither of them noticed me. Understanding how embarrassing the meeting would be to them, I made haste to disappear through a small door at the end of the room; I went up to my bedroom, which I did not leave again, and the next day at daybreak I left the inn without seeing the other guests again. That, monsieur le comte, is how I discovered a secret which, I think, has always been a mystery to everybody else; and my reason for never mentioning it to you has been that it seemed at least unnecessary to tell you of something which it could not be agreeable to you to learn, and which moreover is entirely unconnected with you, you understand,—entirely unconnected."
"Yes, I understand very well. However, I never had any suspicion of anything else. Did you return to Ermenonville?"
"Yes, I admit that I was curious enough for that; about three weeks after leaving so hurriedly at daybreak, I went back to the village and stopped at the same inn. The mistress of the house recognized me perfectly, and as we were talking of the guests whom I had left there, I asked her if the event which she desired had taken place in her inn.—'No, monsieur, no;' she replied; 'the next day, the lady was better, and insisted on leaving, and I heard them tell the servant who was driving, to take the Paris road.'—This, my dear count, is all that I know concerning a fact which I should never have mentioned to you if you had not seemed to be informed about it to-day."
"And this child—the fruit of that guilty liaison—did you ever learn what became of it, what they did with it?"
"No, I assumed that it did not live. Otherwise, would not Madame de Grangeville have it with her, calling herself its godmother or its adopted mother? There are a thousand ways of disguising the truth when one wishes to keep a child with one."
"Well, I know more than you. I know what they did with that child and what became of it."
"Is it possible?"
"At least, I think I'm on the track of the mystery."
"And if you are not mistaken, what do you expect to do, monsieur le comte?"
"Oh! I don't know yet; it is all so shocking, so detestable! I cannot listen coolly when those events are being talked about. Adieu, Monsieur de Merval; I am going back to the country. I need to breathe the country air in order to restore my tranquillity, to help me to recover from the emotions of this day."
Monsieur de Merval did not try to detain Brévanne, whose state of irritation he appreciated; and the count at once returned to Nogent.
Pongo was waiting for his master, teaching Carabi to pretend to be dead. Mère Brunoy was sewing, and Georget was going and coming about the garden, for the poor fellow could not keep still. Since he had been to Paris, and had seen how sad Violette looked and how she had changed, her image constantly haunted him; and when he saw his patron start for Paris that morning, he had been twenty times on the point of asking leave to accompany him, but he had not dared; after the oath he had lately taken, it would have been showing too little strength of character. So the young lover had remained at Nogent, where the day had seemed endless to him; and he hovered about the gate, in order to see the count when he returned, hoping that he might have seen Violette again and would speak of her to him.
Monsieur de Brévanne returned during the afternoon; but his brow was dark, his expression more thoughtful than usual. Without a word he passed his household, who bowed before him; and he shut himself up in his room at once.
"Master no want to talk," said the mulatto to Georget, "him not nod his head and say good-day; him not in good temper."
"Oh! I saw that too; he didn't say a single word as he passed.—I suppose he didn't see her—he has other things on his mind. Well, he won't speak to me about her, and he looks too stern for me to mention her to him."
And Georget returned sadly to his mother.