At that point, roars of laughter from Zizi, Roncherolle and Jéricourt made it impossible to hear the groans and lamentations of Alfred, who, in a fit of desperation, attempted to throw the pie at Beauvinet's head; but he was prevented, and Roncherolle said to him:
"As the harm is done, we must make the best of it; as I presume that no one here has ever eaten parrot pie, I suggest that we taste it."
"Yes, let us taste it," said Zizi. "I will tell this story at the theatre, and my comrades will have a good laugh at it."
"It doesn't make me laugh! the result of such long-continued toil; and just at the moment when I had finished his education, and when he began to talk so famously!"
"Will you have a little piece, Saint-Arthur?"
"I? never! but yes—just a taste.—That rascally pastry cook! he was quite right to say that no one would know what it was; but he will have to give me back the feathers, at least."
"Pouah! how nasty it is," said Zizi, pushing her plate away. "So tough that you can't chew it."
"And a certain flavor which is not exactly agreeable," said Jéricourt. "The pastry cook did not disguise it quite enough."
"Here, take all this away," said Roncherolle, handing the plate with the pie to Beauvinet; "and for your punishment, eat it!"
"Yes, clear out with it, you stupid beast!" cried Saint-Arthur. "Off with you, and if I wasn't holding myself back—What an ass he is! I am sure that if one should tell him to take a dog to the pastry-cook he would have it made into a pie."
Beauvinet took the pie under his arm, and angrily pulled his wig over his right ear, grumbling: "They don't know what they want; I do what they tell me to, and they ain't satisfied! Let them make their pies themselves after this."
The adventure of the pie amused the guests mightily; Saint-Arthur alone did not share his friends' gayety; at every mouthful that he swallowed, he muttered:
"My poor parrot! my poor Coco! how prettily he said: 'Dutaillis is lovely!'—What a misfortune!—'Applaud, clap Zizi!'—I shall never be consoled."
"You are going to begin by being consoled right away," said the young actress; "and don't bore us any longer with your complaints. Don't you see that the story of your pie is a hundred times better and funnier than your bird would have been? But here comes the dessert. I want some champagne now, and I want my good friend Roncherolle to keep his promise to us."
"Monsieur is going to begin his exercises!" said Jéricourt ironically. "Let us see if it is the same thing as at Nicolet's: worse and worse and more of it."
"We will do our utmost to satisfy monsieur," replied Roncherolle, emptying a glass of champagne.
"But first of all," said Zizi, "as I am rather inquisitive, I want to hear the story of that little bunch of violets that you promised me."
"Ah! so he has stories too!" muttered the literary man; "sapristi! we are going to have a deal of entertainment!"
"Perhaps you will have much more than you expect, monsieur," replied Roncherolle, with a meaning glance at Jéricourt. "But I begin—this little bunch of violets I got from a flower girl,—nothing more commonplace than that, eh? But what is less commonplace is that this young flower girl, who is remarkably pretty, is as virtuous and respectable as she is pretty. Now, this is what happened to her last summer: a young man of the world, a dandy, who, I believe, claims to be a literary man, saw the charming flower girl and found her to his liking; he made such speeches to her as all young men make to pretty girls—thus far there was nothing that was not perfectly natural."
"I say!" cried Saint-Arthur; "why, that's like Jéricourt and——"
"Pray let monsieur finish!" said Jéricourt, who had become very attentive within a few seconds.
"But, as I was saying, the pretty flower girl, who is virtuous and who, moreover, is in love with a handsome young fellow, did not listen to our dandy's suggestions, but received them very coldly. What does he do to triumph over the girl? He sends a man to order and pay for a very handsome bouquet, with a request to the flower girl to carry it herself to a lady whose address he gives her, informing her that that lady will have other orders for her. The girl falls into the snare—for you will guess that she was sent to the gallant himself, who had told his concierge to allow the flower girl to go up to his room."
"Why, this is strange, it resembles——"
"Hold your tongue, Frefred! this story interests me immensely."
Jéricourt did not utter a word, but he had become very pale. Roncherolle continued his narrative, with his eyes still fastened upon him.
"Behold then our flower girl in the young man's room, which she had entered without suspicion, for a woman had opened the door. But soon he who has been persecuting her with his addresses appears; he is alone with her, he no longer conceals his purpose to triumph over her resistance; the girl sees her danger, summons all her courage, and resists so effectively that the enterprising gentleman receives upon his face the marks of that stout defence—indeed, they have not altogether disappeared yet; he is obliged to let a woman who defends herself so well go her way. You will assume that that was the end of it all; and indeed, it should have been; but no, because that girl was virtuous, because she did not choose to cease to be virtuous, because she had given her heart to another, the gentleman in question deemed it becoming to proclaim everywhere that the pretty flower girl had been his mistress, that she had come to his room of her own free will,—in short, that she was an abandoned girl; he dishonored her in the eyes of all those who loved her. I say that that is dastardly, infamous! and do not you think that so much lying and slander deserve to be punished?"
Zizi said nothing because she had guessed the truth; Jéricourt bit his lips and also held his peace; but Frefred exclaimed:
"This is strange—your story—one would say—where does your pretty flower girl stand?"
"Near here, on Boulevard du Château d'Eau; you know her perfectly well."
"What! is it Violette?"
"It is Violette."
"Why, in that case, the young man who pretends to have had her favors—is——"
Thereupon Jéricourt felt called upon to draw himself up and assume an impertinent tone.
"Monsieur," said he to Roncherolle, "I do not understand all the absurd stories and fairy-tales which you have been telling us, and which have neither head nor tail; but what seems even more inconceivable is that a man of your age should pose as the knight of flower girls!"
"A man of my age, monsieur, knows the world well enough to distinguish the false from the true; and when one can avenge a woman who has been shamelessly defamed by a conceited coxcomb, age makes no difference, monsieur, as I hope to prove to your satisfaction."
"Really, I am very condescending to answer you!" retorted Jéricourt, throwing himself back and swinging his legs. "Be off with you, monsieur; leave me in peace."
"I will be off, monsieur, but with you, I hope."
"Oh! that would be amusing! Faith, my dear monsieur, lose your temper if you choose, but I will not fight for a flower girl."
"Well! will you fight for this, monsieur?"
As he spoke, Roncherolle, who had left his seat and walked toward Jéricourt, struck him across the face with his glove.
The young man leaped from his chair, his face became livid, and he seemed to contemplate rushing upon Roncherolle; but the latter maintained such a calm and impassive attitude, while holding the prongs of a fork toward his adversary to keep him at a respectful distance, that Jéricourt contented himself with saying in a voice choked with wrath:
"That insult will cost you dear, monsieur!"
"I shall be enchanted to find out whether that is so, monsieur; and I propose that we finish this matter not later than to-morrow morning."
"Yes, monsieur; to-morrow, at nine o'clock in the morning, I will be in the woods, near Porte Saint-Mandé."
"I will be there at that time."
"Saint-Arthur, you witnessed the insult, you must be my second."
"I, your second; why, I don't know if——"
"Be kind enough to have two seconds," said Roncherolle, "for I shall bring two."
"Until to-morrow, monsieur; Saint-Arthur, be at my rooms before eight o'clock."
Jéricourt seized his hat and rushed from the room like a madman, without saluting anybody.
The young actress did not think of laughing, she was deeply impressed by all that had happened. As for Alfred, he turned white, red and yellow by turns, and seemed to be inclined to weep.
"My dear friends," said Roncherolle, resuming his seat at the table, "I am truly sorry to have disturbed the end of your dinner thus. But what would you have? I have been waiting for a long time for an opportunity to settle affairs with this fellow Jéricourt."
"Then you are certain that the pretty flower girl has been slandered?" said Zizi.
"Perfectly sure. However, this duel will be the judgment of God. Let us drink to the triumph of the truth."
"I am not thirsty any more," faltered Saint-Arthur. "Here I am forced to be a second in a duel! I don't like that at all, for—are your seconds quick-tempered?"
"Not the least in the world; I shall bring two mere boys; you have nothing to fear; your part will be absolutely passive; you will be there only to look on, for there is no possible adjustment of the affair with my adversary."
"Ah! if it's only a matter of looking on, that's different; rely on me."
"Oh! how I wish it were to-morrow noon," said Zizi. "But now good-night, let us separate; I am no longer in the mood for talking nonsense. I am only a good-for-nothing, Monsieur de Roncherolle, but all the same I will pray to God for you; and who knows? perhaps He will listen to me."
On leaving the restaurant, Roncherolle walked back and forth in front of the theatres on Boulevard du Temple; he knew that Chicotin was particularly devoted to that place, where he often succeeded in obtaining an admission ticket, which he did not sell, but with which he went into the theatre. And in fact Roncherolle had not been walking there ten minutes when he spied the person for whom he was looking.
"Hello! is that you, bourgeois?" cried the young messenger. "Have you been to the play? If you are not going back, make me a present of your check."
"No, my boy, I haven't been to the play; but listen carefully to what I am going to say to you, for it is very serious, very important; I need you to-morrow, you must be at my room at eight o'clock at the latest."
"That is easy enough, I will be there. Is that all?"
"No, I also want your friend Georget, Violette's young sweetheart, to come with you; I need him too."
"Is that so? What for, bourgeois?"
"I will tell you both to-morrow, not before; meanwhile, let your friend understand that his future happiness and Violette's are concerned."
"Oh! in that case, never fear; he won't fail to come!"
"But don't mention this to anybody, not even to Violette; it is a secret."
"We won't say a word."
"Are you sure of seeing Georget this evening?"
"Pardi! when he doesn't go to walk with Violette, he is at home; at any rate, he must go home, and I will wait for him."
"Very well, is he still with Monsieur Malberg?"
"Yes, but he sleeps in his own lodgings."
"Don't let him say a word of this to—to Monsieur Malberg."
"Never you fear; indeed, he probably won't see him until after he sees you."
"Until to-morrow then, and both of you."
"We will be there, monsieur."
"By the way, bring a cab with you; don't forget."
The next morning at half-past seven, Roncherolle was up and dressed and was cleaning a pair of pistols, which, despite his destitution, he had always kept. At a few minutes before eight, the door was opened softly and Chicotin appeared, accompanied by Georget. The latter, instead of a blouse, wore a short coat buttoned to his chin, and on his head a blue cloth cap of stylish shape; he held himself very erect, and his new costume heightened the attractiveness of his face and the grace of his figure.
Roncherolle could not help admiring the fine appearance of the young man, and he offered him his hand, which Georget took with an air of respect.
"Here we are, bourgeois," said Chicotin; "I hope we haven't kept you waiting; I bring Georget, as you see, and the cab is downstairs."
"That is very good, my boy. Monsieur Georget, I thank you for coming here at my invitation; when you know what is on foot, I am sure that you will not be sorry."
"I am very happy, monsieur, if I can be of use to you in any way; I know you already through Violette, whom you were kind enough to visit when she was sick; and Chicotin told me——"
"I told him that this morning's business had something to do with her; but monsieur will explain the whole thing to us, and tell us why——"
"You are in a great hurry; the most important thing now is to start; and especially to avoid meeting my little neighbor on the stairs, for she would ask questions which we could not very well answer at this moment."
"Oh! it's only eight o'clock; it's cold too, and Violette doesn't go out so early in such weather."
"Very well, let us start, young men."
Roncherolle took his box of pistols, which seemed to puzzle Chicotin greatly. Georget went out first, walked to the stairs cautiously, then motioned to them that they might go down. All three were soon at the door, which was kept by Mirontaine only; he barked when anybody came in, but never when they went out.
Monsieur de Roncherolle entered the cab, told Georget and Chicotin to enter with him, although the latter declared that he would be quite as comfortable behind, and bade the coachman take them to the Porte Saint-Mandé, by the Vincennes road.
"Oho! we are going to the country," cried Chicotin; "we shan't find much shade there!"
"I can tell you now, messieurs, why I have brought you with me," said Roncherolle. "It is for the purpose of being my seconds; for I have a duel on hand, I am going to fight a duel with pistols this morning."
"You are going to fight?" cried Georget, deeply moved.
"Yes, my friend; if I had told you that beforehand, would you have refused to come with me?"
"Oh, no! on the contrary, I would have begged you to take me."
"I was sure of it beforehand, young man."
"And I too, bourgeois; I like fights! they just suit me! But what are we two going to fight with? We haven't any weapons; are we to fight with fists? I like that too."
"No, not with fists or anything else; you are my seconds, and you will not be called upon to fight at all."
"So much the worse! of what use shall we be then?"
"To affirm the innocence of a young girl whom I hope to avenge. I am going to fight with Monsieur Jéricourt."
"With Monsieur Jéricourt?" cried Georget; "with that man who laid the trap for Violette and then slandered her so abominably?"
"Just so; do you consider that I am doing wrong?"
"Oh, monsieur! what good fortune! that Jéricourt! I have been looking for him everywhere, and haven't found him. But you are not the one who's going to fight with him, monsieur; I am; for I am the man whom he insulted most cruelly; I am the man whom he injured most; I am to be the husband of the woman whom he tried to dishonor. You must see, monsieur, that I am the one who must fight with him."
"My dear Georget, I was very sure that you would say all that; I expected it; but be calm and listen to me. I was in this gentleman's company yesterday; I have long been looking for an opportunity. I told him what I thought of his conduct toward Violette. I demanded satisfaction for his slanders, but he refused; then I struck him in the face. The duel was instantly arranged for this morning. Now, this gentleman has the right to demand satisfaction for the outrage inflicted upon his face; if I did not fight, if I allowed you to fight in my place, I should act like a coward; and as I have never had that reputation, you will permit me not to earn it now. All that I can do, my dear Monsieur Georget, is, if I fall, to allow you to take my place and to renew the combat with this gentleman. Now it is all understood and arranged. Not a word more on that subject, for it would be useless.—But we have arrived."
The carriage stopped on the outskirts of the wood; Roncherolle alighted with the two young men, Chicotin carrying the box of pistols. They looked about in all directions but saw nobody.
"Is it possible that he will not come?" murmured Georget, stamping the ground impatiently.
"Is he going to squeal?" said Chicotin.
"There is no time wasted yet, messieurs, and his seconds may have kept him waiting.—But look, I see a carriage in the distance.—I'll wager that they're the people we expect."
The carriage reached the wood and they saw Jéricourt, Saint-Arthur and little Astianax at once alight from it.
"Saperlotte! the seconds are not big fellows," cried Chicotin; "I know 'em; both of 'em together wouldn't make one decent man. I could eat half a dozen of them without difficulty!"
Roncherolle imposed silence upon Chicotin with a glance. Jéricourt came forward with his two friends; Saint-Arthur acted as if he had a pain in his stomach, and little Astianax looked in both directions at once.
"What does this mean?" cried Jéricourt, as he scrutinized Chicotin, while Georget glared at him with flaming eyes; "what! Monsieur de Roncherolle chooses a messenger for his second? Really, I should have supposed that he could find some one better than that.—You see, messieurs, the honor that he does you, and with whom you are brought into relations!"
"What's that? what's that?" cried Chicotin, turning up his sleeves; "do I hear anybody sneering at me? Ah! as I live! I'll smash the principal and his seconds in a second."
"Be quiet," said Roncherolle sternly. Then, walking toward his adversary's two seconds, he said to them:
"I have brought this young man, messieurs, Monsieur Georget, because he is the fiancé, the future husband of the young girl whom monsieur attempted to ruin. No one has a better right to be here than he, for the honor of the woman whom he is to marry is the motive of this duel. As for my other second, this honest fellow here, he is only a messenger, it is true, but it was he who saved the young flower girl when, driven to desperation by contemptuous treatment and humiliation, and by the thought of passing for what she was not, she was on the point of jumping into the canal and seeking an end to her suffering there. Do you not think, messieurs, that this honest fellow who brought back hope to Violette's heart, also has a right to be present at a battle which is to rehabilitate her honor? Come, messieurs, which of you will undertake to maintain the contrary, and will blush to have to deal with such seconds? Neither of you, I am sure!"
Saint-Arthur and Astianax contented themselves with bowing low to Roncherolle, who continued:
"Very good, everything is arranged; now, my adversary has the choice of weapons."
"He chooses pistols," said Astianax.
"Pistols it is; I have brought some."
"So have we."
"We will take yours, if you choose; it makes no difference to me. My adversary has the right to fire first also, I recognize that; you see that we shall have no difficulty. Let us go a little way into the woods, and have done with it."
The whole party walked into the woods and stopped in a solitary place, where there was a clearing suitable for the duel. Astianax, having spoken to Jéricourt, returned to Roncherolle and said:
"Is fifteen paces satisfactory to you, monsieur?"
"Ordinarily, the seconds would decide such matters among themselves; but no matter, that is satisfactory to me; mark off the distance and I will take my place."
Astianax counted the paces, while Saint-Arthur leaned against a tree at a distance; as for Georget and Chicotin, Roncherolle was obliged to hold them back by his glance.
Young Astianax, having finished measuring the distance, handed to each combatant a pistol, which he took from the box he had brought; then he stood aside, saying:
"They are loaded; I believe there is nothing more for me to do now."
"It is for you to begin, monsieur," said Roncherolle, bowing to Jéricourt.
Jéricourt took a long aim, then fired; the ball from his pistol grazed his adversary's right side and made him turn slightly; Georget started to run to him, but Roncherolle motioned to him not to stir and speedily resumed his position, saying:
"That was not bad, but it was not quite the thing."
He fired almost instantly, and Jéricourt, wounded in the breast, fell to the ground.
The four seconds rushed at once to the assistance of the wounded man, who was already discharging blood through his mouth; and when he saw Georget, he said to him in a faint voice:
"I lied—she is innocent—tell her that I confess, that——"
The unhappy wretch closed his eyes and could say no more; Chicotin took him in his arms and carried him to the carriage which had brought him, which Astianax also entered. As for Saint-Arthur, he had disappeared and they were unable to find him.
Georget ran back to Roncherolle, crying:
"He confessed, monsieur; he confessed; he admitted that he had slandered Violette! all those gentlemen heard him as well as I!"
"That is well, my young friend; that is what I wanted. Now you must give me your arm to help me to walk back to the carriage."
"Oh! are you wounded too, monsieur?"
"A scratch, a mere scratch, but it troubles me when walking. I will lean on you."
"Oh! as hard as you please, monsieur. What a debt of gratitude I owe you! And Violette, when she knows it——"
"I knew perfectly well that she deserved to be defended; but I am very glad to have spared you that trouble; and then, you see, I have done a lot of foolish things in my life, and I am not sorry to do some good now and then."
Chicotin reached the carriage just as Monsieur de Roncherolle and Georget entered it. The young messenger's face was all awry, and he faltered:
"All the same, it gives a man a shock—a young man, who was so well a minute ago——"
"Well? Monsieur Jéricourt, how is he?" asked Roncherolle.
While the duel which concerned the pretty flower girl was in progress, the girl herself was greatly surprised to see Pongo appear at her door about nine o'clock.
"Master," he said, "he want mamzelle to come and see him after her dress herself all fine; yes, dress herself all fine, and bring a big bouquet."
Violette hastened to answer that she would obey Monsieur Malberg's orders; but as she donned her best dress and her prettiest cap, she said to herself:
"Probably Monsieur Malberg wants to send me somewhere, for he would not tell me to dress in my best just to go to his house. Besides, the bouquet that he wants—no doubt I shall have to go to Madame de Grangeville's.—So much the better! I like that lady very much, and it's a long time since I carried her a bouquet."
When he saw Violette enter his room, so fresh and pretty and graceful, and wearing a dress, which, although appropriate to her rank in life, gave an added charm to her person, none the less, the count could not help sighing, as he said to himself:
"I should have been very happy if I could have called her my daughter."
"Here I am, monsieur, I have obeyed your orders," said Violette; "I have done what your servant told me to do; do I look well, monsieur?"
"Yes, my child, yes, very well; and I have no doubt that Madame de Grangeville will find you charming thus."
"Am I going to that lady's house? I suspected it, monsieur."
"So much the better!—Listen to me, Violette; I must tell you now that this lady to whom I am sending you knew your mother and the secret of your birth; if your mother is still alive, if she is disposed to recognize you as her daughter, this lady will tell you so."
"Is it possible, monsieur?"
"Yes, and for that purpose, you are going to-day to tell her all that you know about your birth, giving her to understand that you have known it only a short time; and then you will finish your story by showing her this handkerchief, which I give back to you to-day, so that it may help you to find your parents."
"Ah! I am all of a tremble, monsieur; the thought that perhaps I am going to find my mother—why haven't you let me say all this to that lady before?"
"Because, my child, before confiding such an important matter to her, I wanted her to have time to appreciate you, so that you might not be a stranger to her."
"And suppose this lady, after listening to me, after seeing this handkerchief, should not mention my mother to me?"
"In that case, my poor girl, it would mean that you no longer have a mother, that all hope of finding her is vanished. But such a supposition does not seem possible to me; no, she cannot spurn you again; and those who brought you into this world will be only too happy to lavish their caresses upon you."
"Shall I tell this lady it's you who send me this time?"
"Not by any means; let her still think that it is Monsieur de Merval.—Go, Violette; and if it is possible, come back here and tell me the result of your visit to—to Madame de Grangeville."
"If it is possible! who could prevent me from coming back to you, monsieur?—I will go at once, and you will see me again soon."
The young girl took her bouquet and started for the abode of the lady who, as she had been told, might restore her mother to her; a thousand confused thoughts, a thousand hopes surged through Violette's mind, and she reached the house intensely excited and trembling from head to foot, and asked Mademoiselle Lizida if she could see her mistress.
"I think so," said the lady's maid; "madame was at a ball last night, but she did not return very late; it is twelve o'clock, and she has just risen; I will announce you and your bouquet."
After a few moments, Violette was ushered into the presence of Madame de Grangeville, who was seated before her mirror, completing her morning toilet, and who smiled at the young girl, saying to her:
"Ah! here is my pretty little flower girl. It is a long while since you came last, little one; I am neglected nowadays; Monsieur de Merval is less attentive to me."
"I don't know, madame——"
"Let me see your bouquet; it is very pretty, but I saw finer ones at the ball last night. Sit down, my girl, and let us talk a bit. Why! how you are dressed up to-day! where are you going this morning, pray?"
"I am going nowhere but here, madame."
"Oho! then it was for me that you made this toilet. You look very well; and I—this cap—do you think that it is becoming to me? I look a little tired, do I not? They absolutely insisted upon making me dance last night.—But what ails you, my child? One would say that you were not listening to me; you seem distraught."
"Ah! madame, it is because——"
"Because what? finish your sentence."
"Since I had the honor to see you last, I have learned something about——"
"About what?"
"About my birth, about my family."
"Your family; you told me that you were an abandoned child."
"True, madame; but someone who knew my nurse has told me several things which may help me, they say, to find my parents."
"Really—I think I will put on a blue ribbon instead of a pink one, it will look better.—Were you not left at the Foundling Hospital in Paris?"
"No, madame, I was born in Paris, but I was given in charge of a nurse, who came from Picardie, and who went back to her province at once."
Madame de Grangeville ceased to toy with her cap and said to Mademoiselle Lizida, who was putting the room in order:
"Leave us, go.—You were saying that your nurse lived in Picardie?"
"Yes, madame."
"What was her name?"
"Marguerite Thomasseau."
"Marguerite—are you sure that her name was Marguerite?"
"Yes, madame."
"And—and you—what name did your parents give you?"
"The gentleman who placed me in my nurse's hands—she did not know whether he was my father, but she presumed that he was—told her that my name was Evelina de Paulausky."
Madame de Grangeville moved suddenly on her chair; but instead of approaching Violette, she drew away from her; one would have thought that she was afraid of the girl. The latter waited anxiously to hear what the lady was going to say to her; but several moments, which seemed very long, passed, and not a word fell from the lips of Madame de Grangeville, whose head had fallen on her breast, and who seemed to be absorbed in her reflections.
Violette decided to continue.
"That is not all, madame," she said; "it seems that when he placed me in charge of my nurse, instead of giving her a layette, he gave her some men's clothes, among which there was a handkerchief belonging to my mother.
"Aha! did he say that?"
"Yes, the gentleman said so when he gave it to my nurse; and she always kept it, hoping that it might enable me some day to make myself known to her who brought me into the world."
"Well! and that handkerchief——"
"It was given to me to-day; here it is—would you like to look at it, madame?"
With a trembling hand Violette held out the handkerchief to the woman whom a secret voice told her was her mother. Madame de Grangeville took it without turning her head, and examined it a moment; only a glance was necessary for her to recognize it; but she had already ceased to doubt that Violette was her daughter, and although she had been reflecting in silence for some moments, it was only to consider whether she should confess to the young flower girl that she was her mother. After some moments' reflection, she said to herself that there was no reason why she should recognize as her daughter a little flower girl, whose presence in her house would constantly embarrass her and incommode her, and would necessarily let everyone know that she was over thirty-five years old.
Violette, who was waiting, hoping, hardly breathing while Madame de Grangeville held the handkerchief in her hands, said to her at last:
"Well, madame—that handkerchief——"
"It is very handsome, mademoiselle, and beautifully embroidered."
As she spoke, the lady handed the handkerchief back to her; the girl could not make up her mind to take it, but said in a faltering tone:
"Has madame—nothing else—to say to me?"
"Why, mademoiselle, what do you suppose that I can have to say to you?"
"I beg pardon; but I was led to hope—that madame—that madame knew—my mother, and that——"
"Somebody has been telling you things that are utterly absurd, mademoiselle," replied Madame de Grangeville, in a very cold tone; "and you may say to those who told you that, that they have been dreaming, nothing more.—Here, take your handkerchief, I have no use for it.—Lizida! Lizida! come and dress me; I am going out."
Violette understood that she had her dismissal; she rose with a heavy heart, carefully replaced the handkerchief in her breast; and as she bowed to Madame de Grangeville, she said to her in a voice choked by sobs:
"Adieu, madame; forgive me for weeping before you, but I hoped to find my mother here."
"Adieu, mademoiselle; take my advice, and think no more about that; don't foster any such fancies in your head; and when you see Monsieur de Merval, tell him that he is mistaken, completely mistaken."
Violette went away, weeping bitterly; and in that condition she returned to Monsieur de Brévanne and told him of her interview with Madame de Grangeville.
The count pressed the young girl to his heart, saying:
"Poor child! the woman who gave you life is unworthy of your love, of your caresses; but if you have not found your mother, be comforted; I will take the place of your family, and I will never abandon you."
The count had been trying to comfort Violette but a few moments, when the door of his apartment was violently thrown open, and Georget appeared, out of breath, drenched with perspiration, and with joy gleaming in his eyes.
"She is here, isn't she, monsieur?" he cried; "yes, here she is! Rejoice, Violette! rejoice! No one now can have any doubt of your innocence; you are avenged! Monsieur de Roncherolle has fought a duel with Jéricourt. I wanted to fight in his place, but he wouldn't let me; we were his seconds. Oh! I ran at the top of my speed to your stand; I was in such a hurry to tell you about it."
Monsieur de Brévanne forced Georget to sit down, as he could say no more; when he had recovered his breath, he gave them an exact account of all that had taken place during the morning; of the duel and of its results. Violette listened with emotion; Monsieur de Roncherolle's devotion to her brought tears to her eyes. The count, who had also listened to Georget with the deepest interest, said to the girl:
"You see, my child, Heaven sends you a great consolation already: your innocence is fully established; no doubt it is lamentable that a man should have had to pay with his life for the slanders that he had circulated, but while you may regret that calamity, you certainly cannot accuse yourself of it. As for Monsieur de Roncherolle, his behavior in this matter deserves nothing but praise; he is entitled to all your gratitude; and before long he will be well repaid for what he has done.—But didn't you say, Georget, that he was wounded also?"
"Yes, monsieur, on the right side; the bullet made a hole there; he says that it's nothing, but we put him to bed, Chicotin and I, and my friend has gone to fetch the doctor."
"I am going to take my place by his side, and be his nurse," said Violette.
"Go, my child; devote yourself to Monsieur de Roncherolle; that is your duty, and I am quite certain that it is also a pleasure to your heart."
When he saw the young flower girl enter his room, Roncherolle sat up in bed, held out his hand with a smile, and said to her:
"I was sure that my two chatterboxes would go at once to tell you all about it. Well, yes, I fought for you, my child; ten thousand devils! you are well worth the trouble. The little fellow didn't want to let me do it; he wanted to fight in my place. Ah! he has a stout heart, he is a fine fellow; but he is too young as yet; and then it was much better to have it happen as it did."
"Oh! how can I express my gratitude, monsieur?"
"No gratitude; affection,—that is much better."
"Will you allow me to kiss you?"
"Will I allow you! I shouldn't have dared to suggest it, my child, but I accept with all my heart!"
And Roncherolle embraced Violette, whose eyes were moist with tears; but this time it was a pleasant emotion which caused them to flow.
Chicotin brought a doctor, who examined the wound, and ordered perfect rest. But in the evening the gout reappeared, and the wounded man said with a sigh:
"The doctor need have no fear, I fancy I shan't move for some time yet."
"I will stay with you faithfully," said Violette; "I will not leave you until you are cured."
"I don't propose to have that, my little neighbor; you will go to sell your flowers as usual, and come here in the evening; even that will be very kind of you."
Georget also asked Monsieur de Roncherolle's permission to come to see him, and he replied, pressing his hand:
"As often as you can, my young friend; a little bit for me, and a great deal for this child,—for whom you will be a pleasant companion, and who will not be sorry to have you."
The next morning the count called early to inquire for the wounded man's health, and told the concierge to tell Violette that someone wished to speak to her.
The girl ran downstairs and said to the count:
"You might have come up to my poor patient's room, monsieur, for he is asleep just now; and as he slept almost none during the night, I hope that he will not wake for some time."
"I thought that his wound amounted to nothing?"
"We thought so at first, monsieur; but he has had an attack of gout which has made him very feverish, and increased his pain."
"Well, my child, to give him some relief in his suffering, take this letter to him, and when he is calm, and you two are alone, give it to him."
"Very good, monsieur; and shall I say that it is from you?"
"Yes, yes, you may act without secrecy now. Au revoir, my child; I hope that the contents of this letter, bringing him good news, will restore your—your neighbor's health."
The count took his leave; Violette carefully bestowed in her bosom the letter which he had handed her, and returned to the sick man.
About noon, Roncherolle, his pain having subsided, felt more calm, and tried to smile at the girl who was nursing him, saying to her:
"You are alone, dear child; have our young men left you?"
"Yes, monsieur, they are at their work; but I am not sorry, for you are comfortable now and I have something to tell you—that is to say, something to give you."
"Something to give me? without their knowledge?"
"Yes, monsieur, this letter; and as I was told that it would give you pleasure, that it might perhaps contribute to restoring your health, I was in a hurry to be alone with you so that I might give it to you."
"A letter that will give me pleasure! From whom did you get it, my girl?"
"From—from Monsieur Malberg."
"From Monsieur Malberg? Georget's protector?"
"Himself, monsieur."
Roncherolle manifested such emotion, his face became so deathly pale, that the girl was terrified.
"What is the matter, monsieur? do you feel worse?"
"No, but what you've just told me surprised me so.—Do you know Monsieur Malberg, pray?"
"Yes, monsieur. Oh! he is very kind, I tell you! he took Georget and his mother into his house, he is interested in me, and he has tried to help me to find my parents."
"Your parents—but give me the letter, my child."
"Here it is, monsieur."
Roncherolle took the letter with a trembling hand and broke the seal. He instantly recognized the writing of the man who had been his friend, and his eyes, with feverish eagerness, read these lines:
"You were very guilty toward me. But God forgives the penitent man, and I should not be more inexorable than He. I give you your daughter; you have fought for her honor, and that act may well have earned pardon for your desertion of the child.
"Comte de Brévanne."
As he read, Roncherolle became more excited; then he looked at Violette; and when he had finished the letter, his eyes rested upon the girl with an expression of such pure affection, that she was greatly moved, and faltered:
"What is it, monsieur? That letter was supposed to give you pleasure."
"Ah! it makes me very, very happy, my dear child; so happy that I dare not as yet believe in my happiness. It speaks to me of my daughter, whom I had lost, abandoned, and of whose fate I knew nothing!"
"You abandoned your daughter?"
"Yes.—Ah! I dared not confess that to you; one does not like to blush before those who show affection for one; but you, Violette, tell me, in pity's name, do you know nothing about your parents? Have you nothing of theirs, no token which might identify you?"
"Excuse me, monsieur; if I have not spoken to you about it before, it is because Monsieur Malberg forbade me to do so; but to-day he said to me: 'Have no more secrets from Monsieur de Roncherolle;' so I can tell you everything."
"Speak, speak!"
"In the first place, they gave me the name of Evelina de Paulausky; and then they kept this handkerchief for me, which belonged to my mother—see."
"Enough! enough!" murmured Roncherolle, holding out his arms to Violette. "Dear child, if you can forgive me for deserting you, come to your father's arms!"
"You, my father! my heart had divined it!" cried Violette, throwing herself into Roncherolle's arms, where he held her for a long time, against his heart.
But such violent emotion brought on a fresh attack, and the invalid, who longed to say a thousand things to his daughter, had not the strength to do it; she was obliged to entreat him to be calm and to rest.
After some time, Roncherolle, feeling more at ease, motioned to Violette to approach his bed, and bade her tell him all that he whom she still called Monsieur Malberg had done for her. The girl concealed nothing from her father, neither the bouquets which she had carried to Madame de Grangeville, nor the last interview she had had with that lady. And Roncherolle raised his eyes to heaven, murmuring:
"She told her that she did not know her mother!"
Then Violette informed her father that Georget's patron had come to see him during his last illness, when he was destitute; and she added:
"It was the very next day that you received that letter with money; I am very sure myself that it was he who sent it."
"Ah! this is too much! this is too much!" muttered Roncherolle, putting his hand to his eyes. "He has avenged himself more thoroughly than if he had killed me, for he has made me realize what a friend I have lost, and how often serious is a fault which men are accustomed to treat so slightingly!"
Georget came very soon to inquire for the invalid's health. On learning that the girl he loved was Monsieur de Roncherolle's daughter, the poor boy was struck dumb; he feared at once that that discovery would interpose obstacles to his union with Violette; but Roncherolle, reading his thought in his eyes, held out his hand to him and said:
"My friend, I have no right to cherish prejudices; besides, I have allowed my daughter to sell flowers, so I may consistently allow her to marry an ex-messenger.—You love each other, my children, and I shall never oppose your happiness."
Chicotin appeared at that moment, and when he was told of all that had happened, he danced about the room, and attempted to make the furniture dance. To keep him quiet, they were obliged to remind him that he was in a sick room, whereupon he went out and skipped upon the boulevard.
Georget informed his patron of all that had happened at Roncherolle's room, and of the blessings which the father and the daughter had showered upon him; the count smiled as he said:
"Yes, I believe after all that one is happier in avenging himself as I have done."
Six days passed, during which Roncherolle was better and worse alternately. On the seventh day, he woke with a violent fever; his wound pained him terribly, and it seemed from his general prostration and the faintness of his voice, that his strength was leaving him. But, still trying to conceal his suffering, especially from his daughter's eyes, he called her to his bedside about mid-day, and said, trying to smile:
"My dear love, do you want to make me very happy?"
"Tell me what I must do, father?"
"You must go to the Comte de Brévanne—for that is the real name of Georget's patron—and tell him yourself how grateful I am to him for giving me back my daughter, although I had inflicted such injury upon him. You must assure him again of my repentance, and beg him to repeat that he forgives me."
"But I should rather not leave you to-day, father; you seem very much depressed, and you are in greater pain."
"No, no, you are mistaken; I am in no more pain than usual; so do my errand; it seems to me that that will afford me great relief."
"Oh! then I will do what you say, father; I hear Chicotin now, and I will tell him not to leave you until I return."
The girl hastily put on what she needed to go out, then embraced her father. Roncherolle held her to his heart for a long time. She started toward the door, but he called her back, that he might kiss her once more; he strove to smile at her, and followed her with his eyes until she had left the room; then he let his head fall back on the pillow, saying:
"Dear love! I think that I have done well to send her away."
On leaving the house Violette met Georget, who was coming to inquire for her father, and who proposed to accompany his sweetheart to his patron's house. But the girl begged him to let her go alone, and to go up to her father; she was afraid that Chicotin might make a mistake about giving him what he asked for. Georget complied with Violette's request, and instead of accompanying her, he went up to Monsieur de Roncherolle.
When Violette arrived at Monsieur de Brévanne's, he was at home, but engaged with contractors, architects and men who were working upon some property of his in Paris; the girl waited until he was at liberty, for she was unwilling to return to her father without complying with his wishes and seeing the count. At last he was alone, and Violette was able to express to him all her gratitude for what she owed him, and to deliver her father's message.
Monsieur de Brévanne listened attentively to what Roncherolle had instructed his daughter to say to him. He took Violette's hands in his, and said to her:
"Yes, my dear love, I have forgiven your father, and he must know that I never speak except from the dictates of my heart."
"I will repeat your very words to him, monsieur," said Violette, "and I hope that it will do him good; for I saw plainly enough to-day that he was suffering more, although he tried to hide it from me; but this morning, when he looked at his wound, the doctor did not seem at all satisfied."
"I thought that his wound was a slight one?"
"So it was, monsieur, but a constant fever has prevented it from healing."
"If that is so, I will go with you, my child; I will take you back to your father, and see for myself how he is. Perhaps he should have another doctor."
"Oh! you are so kind, monsieur, and I am so grateful to you! Would you be willing to see my father, and to tell him what you have just told me? I have an idea that that would cure him at once."
The count at once led Violette away, saying:
"Come, my child; let us first find out how he is."
It was but a short distance from the count's house to Roncherolle's lodgings. Violette and Monsieur de Brévanne soon arrived. The concierge was not in her lodge, and Mirontaine received them, barking in most lugubrious fashion.
"That is strange!" murmured Violette; "this dog knows me perfectly well, so why does she make that noise? why does she howl like that? Mon Dieu! they say that that announces some calamity!"
And the girl ran rapidly up the stairs, while the count tried to reassure her. But when they reached the fifth floor, they saw Georget and Chicotin standing outside Roncherolle's door. Violette would have passed into the room, but Georget put his arms about her and detained her, and she saw that his eyes were filled with tears.
"O my God! my father is dead!" cried the girl.
Georget and his friend sadly hung their heads; thereupon Violette fell into Monsieur de Brévanne's arms, faltering:
"Oh! I have lost my father, monsieur! and it was so short a time since Heaven gave him back to me!"
"Courage, my poor child," said the count; "hereafter I will take his place!"
After Roncherolle's death, Monsieur de Brévanne took Violette into his family and treated her as his daughter. He provided different masters for both Violette and Georget, who completed their education.
Study, Georget's love, and the count's affection, gradually changed Violette's grief into a melancholy souvenir. Sometimes she said to Monsieur de Brévanne:
"So you don't want me to sell flowers any more, monsieur?"
"No, my child," the count said with a smile. "You shall have flowers, you shall raise them, and pick as many as you please; but you no longer need to sell them, for I am wealthy, and when your mourning is at an end, I propose to marry you to Georget and share my fortune with you."
A few weeks after Roncherolle's death, of which the count informed Monsieur de Merval, the latter met Madame de Grangeville on the street, and she eagerly accosted him.
"At last I meet you, my sincere, my generous friend, and I am able to express my gratitude for what you are doing for me. No more mystery, my dear Merval, I know all; I recognized your handwriting; indeed, what other than yourself would have acted so delicately toward me? But I assure you that as to the little flower girl, you are mistaken, you are entirely wrong; it was simply some resemblance of feature which led you to think that."
Monsieur de Merval listened without interrupting, and when she had finished, he said to her in a very grave tone:
"Madame, it is time that you should be disabused concerning the error under which you are laboring. I am not entitled to your thanks, the money which you receive from an unknown hand is not sent to you by me, I tell you again; but I have a shrewd suspicion from whom it does come."
"Who is it, pray? For heaven's sake, give me the name of that generous friend."
"The Comte de Brévanne, madame."
Madame de Grangeville made a slight grimace and shut her lips together in annoyance, muttering:
"My husband! what an idea! how on earth could he have learned that I was in straitened circumstances?"
"It was I who told him, madame, after I had the honor to pay you a visit; I did not think that I did wrong in informing Monsieur de Brévanne that your situation was not—was not prosperous."
"I did not give you that commission, monsieur.—But in that case—the flower girl——"
"It was he who sent her also, madame."
"Really, monsieur, I utterly failed to understand the romance that that girl told me. Someone has believed, or imagined, things which are utterly absurd."
"It seems, madame, that Monsieur de Roncherolle understood better than you did, for he did not fail to acknowledge that young flower girl as his daughter."
"His daughter! Monsieur de Roncherolle acknowledged her as his daughter?"
"Yes, madame, before he died."
"What! Roncherolle is dead?"
"He is dead, madame, and he died asking forgiveness of the friend whom he had so deeply injured."
"Ah! poor Roncherolle! So he is dead! Well, after all, he was wise, for he was in a pitiable plight. And—and—the little flower girl?"
"She is living with the Comte de Brévanne, madame. He has adopted her, and he will never abandon her! Ah! there are few men like the count, and you should be very proud, madame, that you once bore his name!"
Madame de Grangeville could not repress a gesture of annoyance; but she restrained herself, bowed coldly to Monsieur de Merval and hurriedly left him.
Toward the close of the Carnival, which came shortly after, Madame de Grangeville, as the result of wearing a much too décolleté costume at a ball, was seized with inflammation of the lungs; and a week after taking to her bed, she realized that she would never leave it again.
Thereupon a maternal sentiment sprang up in that woman's heart for the first time; for thus far she had lived solely for herself. Hastily writing a few words in a trembling hand, she begged the count to be kind enough to send her daughter to her, as she would like to embrace her before she breathed her last.
But the count said to his wife's messenger:
"When a person has twice spurned her child, she must not hope that that child will close her eyes. It is too late now for Violette to know her mother."
A few days after Madame de Grangeville's death, the Comte de Brévanne resumed his name and his title, and there was an end of Monsieur Malberg.
The Glumeau family continues to give private theatricals in its little wood, but Chambourdin is not allowed to seat ladies on the branches of trees.
Little Saint-Arthur, having squandered his last sou with Mademoiselle Zizi Dutaillis, considered himself too fortunate to have found another place as clerk in a dry-goods shop, where he has resumed his own name and has become Benoît Canard as before. But the young actress is a good-hearted girl; she still allows her former friend to come to see her sometimes, and on those occasions it is she who invites him to breakfast.
As for Chicotin, he insists upon remaining a messenger. Witnessing the happiness of Georget and Violette, he says to himself:
"They owe it partly to me; but I am perfectly sure that if I were in hard luck they would give me a share of their good fortune."
| Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: |
|---|
| as he re-replied=> as he replied {pg 17} |
| The concierge went dowstairs=> The concierge went downstairs {pg 188} |