The new personage who had arrived at Nicole’s was a man of about forty years of age, of medium height, rather stout than thin, with an ordinary face, in which could be detected the desire to give himself an air of importance, and the habit of bending the knee in servile fashion to all those who were above him in social rank or in fortune.
Monsieur Gérondif had long, thick, greasy brown hair, which was cut straight in front, just above the eyebrows, and which hid his coat collar behind; on the sides it was held in respect by the ears. The teacher had gray eyes, the size of which it was difficult to discover, because he kept them lowered all the time, even when speaking to you. He had a very large mouth, which was abundantly furnished with very fine teeth, and whether for the purpose of displaying that attractive feature, or to afford a favorable idea of the affability of his disposition, he smiled almost continually when he talked, and never failed to open his mouth so far that one could see his whole supply.
A nose much too large for the rest of the face, and almost always adorned by a number of small pimples, impaired infinitely the general aspect of the professor’s countenance; and the habit which he had adopted of scratching it, and of stuffing it with snuff, gave to that protuberance a very conspicuous red and black appearance, which would have been in some degree repellent, if Monsieur Gérondif’s soft and honeyed voice had not lessened the unfortunate impression produced at first by his nose.
The schoolmaster’s costume was rather severe, for it was supposed to be all black; the coat, trousers and waistcoat were in fact originally made of cloth of that color; but time had wrought such ravages upon them all, that it had often been necessary to apply patches upon each of those garments; and whether from carelessness on the part of the person who had made the repairs, or because black cloth was scarcer than any other color in the neighborhood, blue, green, gray, and even nut-colored pieces had been used to patch Monsieur Gérondif’s coat, trousers, and waistcoat; so that he bore some resemblance to a harlequin; add to all this, socks and wooden shoes, and a generally dirty aspect, and you will have an idea of the individual who had been sent for to act as tutor to the young Marquis de Grandvilain.
As for what he wore on his head, we have not mentioned that, for the reason that Monsieur Gérondif never wore hat or cap, and that no one could even remember having seen him with any sort of head covering in his hand. He had an old umbrella, which boasted of but three ribs, beneath which our schoolmaster bravely sheltered his head when it rained, without fear that the old thing would collapse, because it was divided into several pieces.
The schoolmaster suffered terribly from chilblains and corns on his feet, so that he had been obliged to lean heavily upon Jacquinot’s arm, which was doubtless the reason that Nicole’s husband had announced that he had brought Monsieur Gérondif. When he learned that he had been sent for on the part of Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain, the professor had not taken the time to remove his potatoes from the baker’s oven, nor had he deemed it necessary to wash his hands, a task which he performed in fact only on Sundays and holidays.
Jasmin pushed his young master in front of him. Chérubin did not release Louise’s hand, as if he still feared that they proposed to separate him from his dear companion. The old valet followed him, still holding his hat in his hand; Nicole walked behind; and they all went to receive the professor, who had halted on the threshold of the street door, sorely embarrassed to know whether he should remove or retain his wooden shoes before presenting himself to the distinguished persons who had sent for him; at last he decided to appear in socks.
When he perceived the bald head of Jasmin, whose respectable costume had nothing about it to indicate the servant, Monsieur Gérondif rushed to meet him, smiling in the fashion best adapted to show his molars and his incisors, and saluted him with:
“Honor to whom honor is due! Salutem vos. Monsieur le marquis, I consider myself very happy to be before you at this moment.”
While Monsieur Gérondif made his complimentary address, bowing to the ground, Jasmin, who saw that the professor had made a mistake and had taken him for the marquis, hastily changed places with his young master; Chérubin did not release Louise’s hand, so that when he raised his head, Monsieur Gérondif found himself with the two children in front of him; he thought that he had made a mistake, and pushed the little boy and his friend aside with little ceremony, to place himself once more in front of Jasmin, who was at the other end of the room, saying:
“Pardon the blunder; errare humanum est. I place myself at your commands, monsieur le marquis. I did not even take the time to finish my slight collation, in order that I might be instantly ready for your orders.”
While the schoolmaster was speaking, Jasmin once more left his place and stepped behind his master; Monsieur Gérondif seemed inclined to follow him into every corner of the room, when Nicole said laughingly:
“But you are making a mistake, Monsieur Gérondif; the marquis is my fieu, my foster-child, this pretty boy here.”
“And I am only his very humble servant, former valet to monsieur le marquis, his father, who deigned when he died to entrust the care of his heir to me,” said Jasmin, saluting Chérubin.
Monsieur Gérondif took the thing very well; he smiled anew and hastened to place himself in front of Chérubin, saying:
“I make my excuses ut iterum, and that does not prevent me from saying once more that I am the very humble servant of monsieur le marquis junior.”
“Not Junior! de Grandvilain,” said Jasmin solemnly.
“One does not prevent the other,” replied Monsieur Gérondif, with a sly smile, “permit me to inform you, brave Eumæus; for you remind me much of that virtuous and royal retainer of Ulysses, King of Ithaca. I do not know whether he was bald too—Homer does not say, but it is very probable. I am at the orders of Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain, who can now tell me what he wants of me instantly.”
The schoolmaster’s long sentences, and the quotations with which he seasoned his discourse, produced the best effect upon Jasmin, who, like most fools, placed a high estimate on whatever he did not understand; so he nodded his head to the nurse, muttering:
“He is a learned man! a very learned man, in fact; he will do very well for us.”
As for Chérubin, who was not of his old servant’s opinion, and who found Monsieur Gérondif very tiresome, he answered without hesitation:
“I don’t want you at all; it was Jasmin who insisted on sending for you, to make me study—I don’t know what! I am perfectly willing to learn, but Louise must stay with me during my lessons.”
Having said this, Chérubin abruptly turned his back on the schoolmaster; Louise did the same, laughing heartily at Monsieur Gérondif’s nose; and the two children ran from the room, to return to the garden and eat more plums.
The others deemed it best to let them go, and Jasmin asked Monsieur Gérondif, with a respectful air, if he were willing to give lessons to his young master, who had learned nothing as yet, and to whom it was high time that some attention should be paid if they wished him to have any education.
Monsieur Gérondif received the proposal with delight; he shook Jasmin’s hand warmly and said:
“Trust me, we will make up for lost time. I will make the young marquis work like a horse.”
“Oh, no!” cried the old servant, “my young master is very delicate; he isn’t used to studying and you will make him ill; you must go gently with him.”
“Of course, of course!” replied Gérondif, scratching his nose. “When I say like a horse, I use a figure of speech—a metaphor, if you prefer; we will go piano et sano—ecce rem! In addition to writing and mathematics, I will teach monsieur le marquis his own language, root and branch, so that he may speak it as I do; that is to say, with elegance; also Latin, Greek, Italian, philosophy, history, ancient and modern, mythology, rhetoric, the art of versification, geography, astronomy, a little physics, and chemistry, and mineralogy, and——”
“Oh! that is enough, monsieur le professeur!” cried Jasmin, bewildered by all that he heard, and aghast with admiration at Monsieur Gérondif’s learning. “When my young master knows all those things, he will be quite learned enough.”
“If you wish for anything more, you have only to speak; I venture to say that so far as learning is concerned, I am a well, a genuine well. At the age of five, I took a prize for memory, and at seven I had three wreaths on my head, wreaths of oak, like the Druids, ancient priests of Gaul, who worshipped Teutates, or Mercury, and the mistletoe, a parasite which, according to them, cured all diseases. I don’t agree with them, for I have corns which pain me terribly; I put mistletoe on them, and they hurt me worse than ever.”
Jasmin dared not breathe while Monsieur Gérondif was speaking; the nurse and her husband shared his admiration, and the schoolmaster, well pleased with the effect that he had produced, was listening to himself with much complaisance when the old servant interrupted him to say:
“A thousand pardons, monsieur, if I venture to slip in a word, but it seems to me necessary to agree upon terms; how much will you take a month to teach my young master all these things, it being understood that you will come every day except Sunday?”
Monsieur Gérondif reflected a few moments, and replied at last in a hesitating manner:
“For imparting to Monsieur de Grandvilain as much knowledge as it is possible for me to impart, it seems to me that if I charge you fifteen francs a month I——”
“Fifteen francs!” cried Jasmin in a tone of disgust; “fifteen francs for all that; why, you must be joking, monsieur.”
Monsieur Gérondif ceased to smile; he lowered his eyes and muttered:
“Well, then, if you think that is too much, we will reduce the amount and——”
“Think that it’s too much!” replied Jasmin; “on the contrary, monsieur, I think that it isn’t enough! Thank heaven, my young master is rich, he is able to pay those who give him lessons. What! I, a valet de chambre, earn six hundred francs a year, with board and lodging, while a man as learned as you, who is going to teach my master so many fine things, receives less than that! Oh, no! I offer you a hundred and fifty francs a month, monsieur, and I consider it none too much for all that you know.”
“A hundred and fifty francs—a month!” cried Monsieur Gérondif, whose features expressed indescribable bliss. “A hundred and fifty francs! I accept, Monsieur Jasmin, I accept with gratitude, and I will prove myself worthy. I will pass almost the whole day with my pupil—my school will not prevent, for I have a sub-master, to whom I pay three francs a month; I will increase his salary if necessary, and at need I will give up my school entirely, to devote my whole time to the interesting child whom you entrust to me.”
The schoolmaster seized Jasmin’s hands and shook them effusively; then he shook hands with Jacquinot, then with Nicole, and finally, finding no more hands to shake, he began to clap his own, crying:
“Hosanna! Hosanna! applaudite cives!”
Jasmin whispered to Jacquinot:
“I think that Monsieur Gérondif said: ‘Apportez du civet.’ Bring some jugged hare.”
“We haven’t got any jugged hare,” replied Jacquinot, “but we’ve got some of our wine to drink, and the schoolmaster will drink with us, I know.”
Nicole brought wine and glasses. Monsieur Gérondif gladly accepted the invitation to drink, but he asked the nurse for a crust of bread, because, as he had not had time to have his potatoes baked, he was conscious of a void in his stomach. Nicole fetched what provisions she had and placed them on the table, whereupon Monsieur Gérondif began by cutting an enormous slice of bread, then attacked a dish of beef and beans with a vehemence in which there was something appalling.
But while eating, the schoolmaster found time to talk; he said to Jasmin:
“We have talked about knowledge, but there is another subject upon which we have not touched,—I mean morals. In that matter too you may rely upon me. I am extremely rigid upon that point; for you see, Monsieur Jasmin, morals are the curb of society. I venture to say that mine are beyond reproach, and I propose that it shall be the same with my pupil.”
“Oh! as for that,” said the old servant with a smile, “it seems to me that we have no reason to fear as yet, considering my young master’s age. Later perhaps! for look you, a young man is not a girl!”
“He’s much worse, Monsieur Jasmin, much more dangerous! Because the young man, being more free, can do more wrong things. But I will inculcate in him principles which will keep him in the right path; I will be the Mentor of this Telemachus!—But I beg pardon, it just occurs to me that in order to begin monsieur le marquis’s studies, I shall have to buy some elementary books, grammars and dictionaries; those that I use in my school are worn out, and I believe that I have not enough money at this moment to make these purchases. If Monsieur Jasmin could pay me a month’s salary in advance, why then——”
“With pleasure, Monsieur Gérondif; I always bring money when I come here, in case my master should ask me for some. See, here are a hundred and twenty francs in gold, and thirty in five-franc pieces.”
The schoolmaster gazed with a covetous eye at the money which was counted out to him. He took it, and counted and recounted it several times; he put it in his pocket, then took it out to count it once more. He did not tire of handling that gold and silver, for never before had he been in possession of so large a sum. They spoke to him, he did not hear, he did not answer, but he jingled his gold pieces and his silver pieces, and after he had finally placed them in a pocket of his trousers, he put his hand over them and kept it there all the time.
Meanwhile, as it was late, Jasmin, having taken leave of his master and received from him renewed promises that he would study, returned to the carriage which had brought him thither and drove back to Paris, delighted that he had found a way to make a scholar of Chérubin.
As for Monsieur Gérondif, having saluted his future pupil and informed him that he would come on the morrow, he left the nurse’s house, and went home, still keeping his hand in his pocket and jingling the money which was there.
We will pass rapidly over the years following that during which Monsieur Gérondif became the young marquis’s tutor. Chérubin had kept his word; he had consented to study, but he had insisted on Louise’s presence during his lessons; at first, Monsieur Gérondif had tried to keep the little girl from the room, but Chérubin had shrieked and wept and refused to listen to his tutor; so that it was found necessary to yield to him. By slow degrees Louise’s presence had evidently come to seem less inconvenient to Monsieur Gérondif, for if she were not there when he arrived, he was the first to send for her.
The fact is that Louise had grown too, and that she had improved even more rapidly. At thirteen, she seemed at least fifteen; she was slender, well-built, and possessed of many graces; not studied and affected ones such as so many young ladies in Paris assume, thinking that they will be deemed natural; but those naïve, simple graces which one recognizes instantly but vainly tries to imitate.
Monsieur Gérondif was not a genuine scholar, but he might have passed for such in the eyes of many people. He had tried everything, having in his youth essayed a number of professions, but having fixed upon none; after making a pretence of becoming a doctor, a druggist, a chemist, an astronomer, a geometrician, a tradesman, and even a poet; after stuffing his head with the first rudiments of many forms of knowledge and succeeding in none, he had ended by turning schoolmaster. The man who knows one branch thoroughly has much more merit than he who talks glibly about all branches, and yet, in the world, the preference is often given to the latter.
At fifteen, Chérubin knew a little of a great many things; in the eyes of the village, in the eyes of the Frimoussets, the young man was a phenomenon who had learned with extraordinary ease. As for Jasmin, he opened his eyes in amazement when he heard his young master use a Latin word, or mention some historical or mythological fact, and he bowed before Monsieur Gérondif, exclaiming:
“He knows as much as you, and that is a great deal to say.”
Monsieur Gérondif puffed himself out, for he had purchased an entirely new costume; he no longer resembled a harlequin, and he was seen now with a hat and a real umbrella.
But with well-being ambition had come; that is usually the case. When a man has nothing, he becomes accustomed to forming no wishes, to not looking above himself; he remains in his shell and tries to be happy there forever; he even succeeds sometimes. But when he becomes well-to-do, then he indulges in a multitude of little luxuries hitherto unknown; but they are no longer enough; every day he desires others, forms a thousand new aspirations, becomes ambitious, in short; and it often happens that he is less contented than when he possessed nothing.
Such was substantially Monsieur Gérondif’s story; when he had nothing to live upon but the paltry profits of his school, he wore clogs, went without hat or cap, very often dined upon nothing but potatoes baked in the oven, and yet seemed perfectly contented with his position.
Since he had become young Grandvilain’s tutor and was earning eighteen hundred francs a year, a sum which it is rather difficult to spend in the village of Gagny, the schoolmaster had formed new desires; and first of all he hoped not to remain forever in a village where he could not even find means to spend his money, a state of affairs which is very annoying to one who has not been accustomed to having money to spend.
Monsieur Gérondif had been shrewd enough to obtain his pupil’s confidence, and even to inspire affection in him; for Chérubin’s heart was easily won; he flew to meet all those who showed the slightest attachment to him. While enjoining virtue and good morals upon the young man every day, Monsieur Gérondif, whose eyesight was very good although he constantly kept his eyes lowered, had perceived that Louise was growing, developing, and becoming a charming girl; and more than once, as he looked at the sweet child, he had thought:
“What lovely eyes! What an exquisite oval face! What a correct chin!”
And then, whether to make sure that Louise’s chin was in fact correct, or for some other reason, the tutor would pass his hand over the young girl’s face, and sometimes go so far as gently to pinch her cheek, which did not amuse Louise at all; whereas Chérubin, on the contrary, was very glad to hear a complimentary remark addressed to his faithful companion.
“Isn’t Louise lovely, my dear master?” he would say at such times.
And Monsieur Gérondif would hasten to assume a sanctimonious air, and would reply, lowering his eyes:
“Yes, this girl has the type of Jael in all its beauty; she seems to me to have the very appearance of a Madonna.”
Thereupon Chérubin would smile again, as he glanced at Louise, and Monsieur Gérondif, thinking of something very different from madonnas, would say to himself:
“This girl will be perfectly bewitching! but if my pupil remains much longer with her—hum! The flesh is weak, the devil is very powerful, especially when he takes the face of a pretty girl. I am not always here; Jacquinot is almost always drunk, and Mère Nicole allows these children to run about together in the fields, looking for flowers among the grain, playing together in the grass,—all very hazardous amusements. I absolutely must look to all this. The best way would be to induce my pupil to return to Paris. I should go with him, there is not the slightest doubt, for his education is not yet complete enough for him to do without a tutor. I shall take care that he needs one for a long time yet, forever, if possible. I shall live in my pupil’s mansion at Paris. That will be infinitely pleasanter than to live in this village; and then I can continue to keep an eye on little Louise at a distance; I will protect her, I will push her on in the world. As for Chérubin, after a few months in Paris, he will have forgotten his little friend of the fields.—All this is reasoned out with the wisdom of Cato, and it only remains to put it into execution.”
And to attain his object, Monsieur Gérondif for some time past had not failed to talk constantly of Paris while giving Chérubin his lessons; he drew a fascinating, enchanting picture of that city; he praised its theatres, its promenades, its monuments, and the innumerable pleasures which one finds there at every step.
Young Chérubin was beginning to listen to these observations. The idea of going to Paris terrified him less; and his tutor would say:
“At least, come and spend a little time in the capital, to see your mansion, the house of your fathers, it is all so close at hand, and we will come back at once.”
But Louise always wept when she saw that Chérubin was on the point of consenting to go to Paris; she would take her playmate’s hand and exclaim:
“If you go to Paris, I am very sure that you won’t come back here again; you’ll forget Gagny and those who live here.”
Nicole said the same, as she lovingly embraced her foster-child, whereupon Chérubin would instantly cry out:
“No, no, I won’t go, since it makes you feel sad; I am happy here, and I shall always stay here.”
At that, Monsieur Gérondif would bite his lips, trying to smile; but in the depths of his heart, he consigned nurses and childhood friends to the devil.
As for Jasmin, when the professor reproached him for not seconding him and urging his young master to go to Paris, he would reply, with that air of good humor which was natural to him:
“What do you expect me to do about it? My dear monsieur le marquis has passed his fifteenth birthday; he is his own master; he can do whatever he chooses; he can even dispose of his whole fortune, thirty thousand francs a year. But if it’s his choice to remain with his nurse, I have no right to oppose him.”
“When a man has such a handsome fortune as that, it’s perfectly ridiculous for him to pass his best years out at nurse!” cried the tutor; “and then what good does it do my pupil to become learned, to learn so many useful things, if he continues to live with peasants? Monsieur Jasmin, history offers no example of remarkable men who have remained at nurse until they were fifteen. It is all very well to love the woman who reared us, but est medius in rebus.”
“Monsieur le professeur, I am not good at guessing rebuses; but I am my master’s very humble servant, and I have no right to give him orders.”
At Paris, too, Jasmin had frequent discussions with Mademoiselle Turlurette on the subject of his young master. The former lady’s maid had become housekeeper; she had grown so stout, although she was not yet forty, that it was very difficult for her to walk from one room to another; that state of corpulence nailed her to her chair, and prevented her from going to see her young master at Gagny. And Jasmin was not at all anxious to take her with him, because he always feared that Mademoiselle Turlurette would usurp a part of his authority, which he did not propose to stand. The bulky housekeeper asked the old servant every day why their young master did not leave his nurse; and sometimes sharp quarrels arose between them on that subject; but Jasmin always put an end to them by saying in a morose tone:
“Mademoiselle, after all, I am the one that the late Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain intrusted with the care of his son; in fact, I have the right to turn you out of the house if I choose; so be kind enough to allow me to guide young Chérubin as I please.”
Thereupon Turlurette held her peace, although she knew perfectly well that Jasmin was not capable of discharging her.
“A foster-child of sixteen years!” she would mutter between her teeth; “that’s a funny thing!”
Things were at this point when a servant appeared at the hôtel de Grandvilain one morning, asked for Jasmin, and told him that the late monsieur le marquis’s notary desired him to call at his office during the day, because it was very important that he should speak with him.
The old valet wondered what the notary could have to say to him; then he remembered that his young master had long since passed his fifteenth birthday, and that that was the time that his father had desired that he should be put in possession of his fortune. All this worried Jasmin, who said to himself:
“Thirty thousand francs a year, to say nothing of the additions due to the savings that I have made in fourteen years! It is a fact that it would be a pity to waste that at his foster-father’s. But still, if Monsieur Chérubin insists on staying with Nicole, I can’t use violence to compel him to return to Paris, for after all, he is his own master.”
Jasmin decided to comply with the notary’s wish. He put on his best coat, pulled a bit of his ruff out beneath his waistcoat, donned his silver buckled shoes, although they had long since ceased to be in style, and in that garb, worthy of the confidential valet of a great family, he betook himself to the office of Monsieur d’Hurbain, the notary.
When Jasmin appeared at the office, the notary was not alone; two persons were with him.
One of them, by name Edouard de Monfréville, was a man apparently thirty-six or thirty-seven years of age, who still had the bearing, the manners and all the dandified aspect of a young man. He was tall, well-built, as slender as if he were but twenty, and wore with much grace the costume of a young exquisite. His face was handsome and attractive at the same time; his features were regular, and his brown hair of a fineness and gloss which a lady might have envied; but in his great eyes, which were black and piercing, one could read sometimes a mocking expression which harmonized perfectly with the faint smile that played about his mouth; and upon his brow, which like his face bore signs of weariness, there were lines which indicated that ennui and grief had passed that way.
The other person was a man of twenty-eight, a faded blond, with a very fair complexion, light-blue eyes, a nose with dilated nostrils, and a large mouth with thick lips. That assemblage of features did not make what could be called a handsome man; but his face exhibited a constant succession of expressions which enlivened it wonderfully; it was a combination of gayety, raillery, cunning, libertinage, indifference, and shrewdness, all accompanied by most distinguished manners; and although his costume was a long way from the elegance of Monsieur de Monfréville’s, and although, in fact, certain parts of his dress were too much neglected, he wore his soiled and shabby coat with so much ease of manner, he held his head so straight in his faded cravat, that it was impossible not to recognize in him a man of birth. His name was Comte Virgile Daréna.
When a clerk entered the private office and announced that old Jasmin had obeyed the summons that he had received, Daréna burst out laughing.
“Jasmin!” he said; “who in the devil can have such a name as Jasmin? Can it be, my dear notary, that you have clients named Jasmin? Why, that name is only fit for a stage servant!”
“No, Monsieur Daréna,” replied the notary, with a smile, “this man is a servant in a most excellent family; he is one of that race of old retainers such as we used to see; unfortunately the race is almost extinct in our day.”
“Ah! he must be an amusing character; an old groom, eh, Monfréville?”
The person to whom this question was addressed barely smiled as he replied:
“I don’t see what there is so amusing in all this!”
“Oh! nothing amuses you when you are in one of your days of humor, as the English say.—Well, tell me, will you buy my little house in Faubourg Saint-Antoine? I will sell it to you for thirty thousand francs.”
“No, I should blush to accept such an offer. Your house is worth nearly twice that, and I do not care to take advantage of your need of money to buy it at a low price.”
“Oh! mon Dieu! that isn’t the question at all! If the bargain is satisfactory to me, why shouldn’t you take advantage of it? I make you the offer before a notary, and it seems to me that your conscience should be tranquil. I don’t like the house; it is occupied by water carriers, Savoyards, the commonest of the common people! What the devil do you suppose I can do with it? They move without paying, or else they stay and don’t pay; they insult whoever goes to ask them for money, or they threaten to beat you! Such tenants are delightful!”
“But you have a principal tenant who looks after all those details.”
“No, no, I tell you that I want to sell, that is the quickest way out of it; it’s too much of a nuisance to me! And then, there’s another inconvenience: if I have among my tenants a pretty grisette or two, or a pretty face, why, you understand—I give them a receipt after obtaining, not their money, but something else. Upon my honor, I am not fitted for a landlord, my heart is too susceptible!”
“You are arranging your affairs in such a way that you won’t be a landlord much longer,” said the notary, shaking his head, “you are not reasonable, Monsieur Daréna. Only six years ago your father left you a very pretty fortune!”
“Of which I have nothing left but the little house that I want to sell,” said Daréna, laughingly. “Well, that is the fate of all fortunes; they vanish, but one constructs another! I am never disturbed, for my part!—Well, Monfréville won’t take my house, and so Monsieur d’Hurbain must sell it for me. But pray admit your old Jasmin! I am curious to see this fossil!”
“In whose service is this model retainer?” asked Monfréville.
“He was in the service of Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain, who died ten or eleven years ago.”
“The Marquis de Grandvilain!” cried Daréna, throwing himself into a chair and laughing until the tears came. “What delicious names they have!”
“Grandvilain!” muttered Monfréville, “why, I knew the old marquis; my father was a friend of his. He used often to speak of a party at his house, of a display of fireworks to celebrate the birth of a son; of a frying-pan that was thrown into the air, and of saucepan covers that wounded several people.”
“Nonsense! nonsense! it is impossible! Monfréville is making fun of us!” said Daréna, stretching himself out in his chair.
“It is all true,” replied the notary; “what Monsieur de Monfréville says really happened. But the Marquis de Grandvilain is dead, and so is his wife; nobody is left now of the old family except a son, who is sixteen years and a half old, and who already has more than thirty thousand francs a year; I manage his property. But his father, obeying a whim, a most incredible piece of folly, provided that at fifteen years his son was to have control of his whole fortune, and he left him no guardian except old Jasmin, his valet de chambre.”
Daréna straightened up in his chair and assumed a singular expression, as he exclaimed:
“Thirty thousand francs a year at fifteen! That deserves consideration.”
“Was the poor old marquis mad?” asked Monfréville.
“No, but he was very old when the child was born, and he wished him to be his own master early in life.”
“Pardi! that doesn’t strike me as so foolish, after all!” said Daréna. “In fact, why shouldn’t one be reasonable at fifteen, when one is so far from it at sixty? But how does the heir manage his fortune? He is consuming it doubtless in cakes and marrons glacés?”
“Thank heaven, so far as I know, he has given his time thus far only to his rhetoric and the humanities. But it was with a view to learning something about him that I sent for the faithful Jasmin. With your permission I will have him come in.”
“We beg that you will do so. For my part, I am very curious to know how this little Grandvilain behaves himself. Oh! what a devil of a name! But no matter, I would gladly change with him now, if he would throw in his father’s coin with the name.—What do you say, Monfréville? Oh! you are a philosopher; and besides, you are rich, which makes philosophy come very easy.”
Jasmin’s arrival put an end to this conversation. The old servant bowed low to all the company, then said to the notary:
“Has monsieur any questions to ask me?”
“Yes, my dear Jasmin. I want first of all to hear about our young marquis.”
“He’s very well, monsieur; he is in excellent health, and he’s a very fine-looking boy.”
“That is well; and his studies?”
“Well! so far as I can learn, monsieur, he seems to be a great scholar.”
“Do you know, Jasmin, that your young master was sixteen more than six months ago?”
“Oh yes, monsieur, I know it very well.”
“Does he know the terms of his father’s will?”
“Why, yes, monsieur.”
“I fancy that he is too sensible to think of entering into possession of his property yet; but for all that, it is my duty to go to him and render an account of my administration of it, and to ask him if it is his intention that I should continue to handle it. Moreover, I have long desired to see the young marquis, and I do not propose to postpone that pleasure any longer. At what college is he?”
Jasmin opened his eyes in dismay and looked toward the door.
“Don’t you hear me?” continued the notary. “I ask you to what college I must go to find Monsieur Chérubin de Grandvilain?”
“The model valet seems to me as if he were deaf,” said Daréna, laughing at Jasmin’s expression; while Monsieur de Monfréville, who had been scrutinizing the old servant closely, walked toward him and fastening his eyes upon him, said in a half-serious, half-mocking tone:
“Do you mean that you don’t know what you have done with your young master?”
“Yes, yes!” replied Jasmin; “monsieur le marquis is at Gagny.”
“At Gagny! Is there a college there?” demanded the notary.
“Gagny, near Villemonble. Oh! I know that place,” said Daréna; “it’s a small village; there are some fine estates in the neighborhood, but not a restaurant in the whole region. I went there with two dancers from the Opéra, and we could not even obtain a rabbit stew, the inevitable dish in the country. But there never was a college at Gagny; I don’t even know of a boarding-school there.”
“Tell us, Monsieur Jasmin,” said the notary in a stern tone, “where is young Grandvilain staying at Gagny?”
The old servant made up his mind and replied with an almost proud air:
“At his nurse’s, monsieur.”
At those words the notary was speechless, Monfréville began to laugh, and Daréna rolled about in his chair.
“At his nurse’s!” repeated the notary at last. “Is it possible, Jasmin, that the young marquis is still at his nurse’s, at sixteen years and a half?”
“Yes, monsieur; but never fear, he is none the less well educated; I found a teacher for him, the village schoolmaster, Monsieur Gérondif, who teaches him all that it is possible to teach.”
Daréna roared with laughter anew, when he heard the name of the tutor.
“Educated at his nurse’s!” he cried; “that is delicious; it’s a new method, and perhaps it will become fashionable. I am tempted to return to my nurse myself.”
“Monsieur Jasmin,” said the notary, “I cannot understand how you can have left your master’s son with peasants up to this time. I consider you very reprehensible; you should at least have consulted me.”
The old servant, who was sorely vexed, began to shout at the top of his lungs:
“Monsieur, I am my master’s servant! I am not the man to thwart him and to use force upon him, and it is not my fault if Monsieur Chérubin does not want to leave Nicole, his nurse, and his little foster-sister.”
“Aha! so there’s a little foster-sister, is there? I begin to understand the young man’s obstinacy,” said Daréna; “and how old might the foster-sister be?”
“Two years younger than my young master,—about fourteen and a half.”
“And is she pretty?”
“Why, yes, monsieur, she’s a fine slip of a girl.”
“Monsieur Jasmin,” continued the notary, “things cannot go on like this; it is my duty to straighten out this affair; my friendship for the late Monsieur de Grandvilain imposes that duty upon me, and you too must understand that a child of a good family, the son of your former master, ought not to pass his best years in a village.”
“I assure you, monsieur le notaire, that I tell my master so very often. I say to him: ‘You have a house at Paris, a beautiful apartment with crimson hangings, solid mahogany furniture, a night table with carved corners, and the inside of gilded porcelain.’ But all that doesn’t tempt him. He turns his back on me and won’t listen.”
“I should think not!” cried Daréna; “the idea of the old fool expecting to tempt his master with a night table and all its accessories! If you wish, Monsieur d’Hurbain, I will undertake to persuade the young marquis to return to Paris.”
“You, Monsieur Daréna; by what means, pray?”
“That’s my business. Will you trust me?”
“I shall be very much obliged to you if you will assist me, but I propose to act for myself also. Monsieur de Monfréville, will not you lend us your assistance too? Won’t you go to Gagny with me, as your father was a friend of the old marquis?”
“I am very much inclined to join you. Indeed, I am already trying to think how we can induce the young man to come back with us; for after all, this is not a case for resorting to violence. The young man is his own master, by his father’s express desire; and if he should persist in remaining at his nurse’s, we should be obliged to leave him there.”
“But it is impossible that the marquis should not give way to our arguments, to our entreaties.”
“Arguments! ah! my dear Monsieur d’Hurbain, I fancy that we shall need something stronger than arguments to captivate a boy.”
“Messieurs,” cried Daréna, “I suggest a wager. A magnificent dinner at the Rocher de Cancale, to be given by two of us to the one who triumphs and who brings young Chérubin to Paris. Is it a bargain?”
“With all our hearts.”
“When do we start for Gagny?”
“I will arrange to leave my office at noon to-morrow, messieurs. Will you call for me? Shall I expect you?”
“No,” said Monfréville, “let us go each on his own account; we shall be able to find this nurse’s house.”
“Nicole Frimousset,” said Jasmin; “a narrow street leading into the square. Anyone will point out her house.”
“Very well,” said Daréna; “Nicole Frimousset; the names are engraved on my memory. Monfréville is right, it is better for us to go each on his own hook.”
“But take care, messieurs,” said the notary; “if you delay, you may make the journey for nothing, and I shall already have started for Paris with Chérubin.”
“Oh! I don’t think so,” said Monfréville.
“As for me, messieurs, I am a bold player,” said Daréna, “and I will give you the start. I will not leave Paris until a full hour after you, and even so I am sure that I shall arrive in time.”
Jasmin, who was bewildered and somewhat alarmed by all that he heard, exclaimed with an air of dismay:
“I say, messieurs, I hope that you won’t do my young master any injury in all this; I mean, I hope that you won’t make him unhappy?”
“Ha! ha! ha! this old fellow is enchanting with his innocence!” said Daréna.—”Never fear, venerable retainer! We shall employ only pleasant methods! As for you, all there is for you to do is to find a way to get Monsieur Chérubin’s little foster-sister out of the way to-morrow morning. That is indispensable for the success of our excursion.”
“You hear, Jasmin?” said the notary. “Remember that the happiness, the future of your young master is at stake, and that you will be very blameworthy if you do not try to help us.”
The old servant bowed and went out, saying that he would obey.
Monfréville and Daréna also left the notary’s, saying to each other:
Jasmin returned to the house utterly upset; the old servant did not know whether he ought to rejoice or to grieve; he would be very glad to see his master at Paris, so that he might be always with him, and serve him as he had served the old marquis; but he was afraid that that would grieve the youth whom he called his dear child; and he was also afraid that life in Paris would not be so good for Chérubin’s health as life in the village.
While making these reflections, he summoned all the servants in the house. It will be remembered that Jasmin had kept all those who had been in the employ of his former master, and that is why Chérubin’s household consisted entirely of mature persons. The cook had passed his sixtieth year; the coachman was approaching his sixty-fifth; there was a little jockey of fifty; and Mademoiselle Turlurette, who was a child compared with all the rest, was in her thirty-seventh year, none the less.
“My children,” said Jasmin to the servants, “I think it my duty to inform you that our young master will come among us to-morrow.”
“To-morrow!” cried Turlurette, with a joyful exclamation; “is that certain?”
“It is very certain—perhaps. However, arrange everything so that Monsieur Chérubin will be pleased; see that everything is rubbed and polished with more care than ever. Cook, prepare a dainty dinner. Coachman, let the carriage and horses be ready, in case he should want to use them. Have flowers placed in the hall, as on the days when my late master gave a ball.”
“Are we going to have a display of fireworks?” asked Turlurette in a quizzical tone.
“No, mademoiselle, no, I have had enough of fireworks!” replied Jasmin, passing his hand over his face; “and unless Monsieur Chérubin orders, not even a rocket will ever be fired in this courtyard again. But still, we must see that it is very lively here. By the way, we will have some music—three organ grinders, and as many violin players, who will be stationed in the courtyard; they must play their best pieces when our young master enters the house; that cannot fail to be agreeable to him.”
“Do you want singers too?” asked the old jockey.
“Well! if you can find any singers, men or women, it seems to me that they will not do any harm. You understand, all this for the afternoon.”
The next morning, Jasmin started early for Gagny, where he arrived about ten o’clock. First of all, he asked for Chérubin, and Nicole informed him that he had gone to walk with Louise toward Maison Rouge. The old servant was about to go in search of the young people when he met Monsieur Gérondif in the square, and hastened to inform him as to what was to happen during the day.
The professor clapped his hands, tossed his new hat in the air, and seemed inclined to cut a caper.
“Tandem! Denique! Ultima cumæi venit jam carminis ætas! Jam nova progenies cœlo demittitur alto!”
“Why no, that isn’t it,” replied Jasmin; “I tell you that the notary and two of his friends are coming.”
“Very good! perfect! more than perfect! We must now find my pupil at once.”
“I was going to look for him; he is walking with little Louise in the direction of Maison Rouge.”
“With little Louise, who is already large. How imprudent it is! It is high time to separate the man from the serpent!”
“Did you see a serpent?”
“The serpent, my dear Jasmin, is woman, the apple, sin! You don’t seem to understand; I will explain it to you some other day, but now we must find the child at once.”
“Especially as those gentlemen requested me to send the little girl away this morning, while they were talking to my master.”
“You see, those gentlemen think as I do; they understand that this little girl is now a dangerous companion, most certainly. We will get her out of the way, virtuous Jasmin, we will find a pretext, a subterfuge. Come, take my arm and let us run.”
“Run! the devil! that’s very easy to say! However, I’ll try.”
“Men run at all ages, worthy Jasmin, and you were built for a runner.”
As he spoke, the professor took the old servant’s arm and hurried him away in the direction where they hoped to find Chérubin. As they walked rapidly along, Jasmin asked Monsieur Gérondif:
“Have you thought of any excuse for sending the girl away?”
“No; have you?”
“No, I have not.”
“Let us go on, that will come in due time.”
That rapid march lasted for three-quarters of an hour. Jasmin could hold out no longer, he was entirely out of breath. But the professor still pulled him along, saying:
“Macte puer! macte animo! Our dear Chérubin’s happiness is at stake. Look out, excellent Jasmin, you are stumbling; you are putting your feet in the ruts, in pools of water!”
The excellent Jasmin’s breath was exhausted, and he decided to fall in the middle of the road.
“I can’t go any farther,” he stammered; “I must get my breath.”
But at that moment Monsieur Gérondif glanced at a clump of trees a short distance from the road and exclaimed:
“There they are! the little girl is eating apricots; she offers one to my pupil, who stands lost in admiration before his apricot! It is time that we arrived.”
Chérubin had gone out early with Louise that morning; they had taken a basket containing bread and fruit, and looked forward to eating their luncheon in the woods; that frugal collation seemed most delicious to them. And, in sooth, what more could they desire? they were together, and they loved each other; that is the most enjoyable repast to which one brings a contented heart.
The relations between Louise and Chérubin at this time were so pleasant, so pure, that they were happy to be together and aspired to no other happiness. It may be, however, that young Louise’s affection was more eager, more expansive, because there was already a tinge of sadness in it. She was afraid that Chérubin would decide to go to Paris; she was afraid that she was going to lose her friend; and that fear made her love him even more, for our affections are strengthened by the sorrows that they cause us.
The two young people were greatly surprised when the professor and Jasmin suddenly appeared in the midst of their open-air repast.
“We were looking for you, attractive youths,” said Monsieur Gérondif; “we were perturbed in spirit. The adventure of Pyramus and Thisbe has been running in my head; I have mistaken every dog I met for a lioness. I am well aware that my pupil has no inclination to fly, like the young Assyrian, with any Thisbe; but anyone may make a false step.”
“Tell me, why did you come to look for us?” said Chérubin; “I have time enough to study, I should think. I know enough already. Is anyone sick? Has anything happened, that Jasmin comes with you?”
Monsieur Gérondif seemed struck by a sudden thought; he glanced at Jasmin and said:
“In truth, my noble pupil, there has been an accident—not at all serious, I trust. Your nurse’s oldest son has hurt himself; he is at Montfermeil—he has written; and Nicole would like to have Louise go to him at once; she will come too very soon.”
“We’ll go with Louise,” said Chérubin.
“No, we had better go back to poor Nicole, who is in grief—she doesn’t know where to go for a doctor. Louise can go to Montfermeil alone; you can see the first houses from here.”
“Oh, yes! yes! I will be there in a few minutes,” said Louise; “but where is dear mother Nicole’s son?”
“At Madame Patineau’s, on the main street. Here, here is her address, and a line for her.”
Monsieur Gérondif scrawled a few words in pencil, wherein he requested the lady to whom he was sending the girl to keep her at her house, and not to let her go until she was sent for. The girl took the note, bade Chérubin adieu and ran off toward Montfermeil. The professor rubbed his hands and glanced at Jasmin, who said to himself:
“I should never have thought of that.”
They returned to Gagny; as they approached the square, they saw a carriage stop and a gentleman alight: it was Monsieur d’Hurbain, the notary.
“Here’s a visitor for you,” said Jasmin to his master. “This gentleman is your notary, in whose care your venerable father placed his testament.”
“And it was to prevent your attention being distracted so that you might receive some gentlemen who are coming from Paris to see you, that we sent little Louise to Montfermeil,” said Gérondif with a smile.
“What? the accident to Nicole’s son——”
“Was all a joke.”
Before Chérubin had time to reply, Monsieur d’Hurbain came up and bowed low to him. The notary’s solemn manner made an impression on the young man, who faltered a few words in reply to the flattering remarks that were addressed to him. They walked toward the nurse’s house, and for the first time Chérubin had a feeling of something like shame when the notary said:
“What, monsieur le marquis, is this where you are studying? You are sixteen and a half years old, you belong to a noble family, you have a handsome fortune, and you pass your life beneath the roof of these village folk! I honor the laboring man, I esteem all honest persons, but everyone should keep to his own rank, monsieur le marquis, otherwise society would fall into confusion and anarchy; and there would no longer be that desire to rise, to succeed, which, by implanting in men’s hearts a praiseworthy ambition, makes them capable of noble efforts to attain the end at which they are eager to arrive.”
“Bravo! recte dicis!” cried Monsieur Gérondif, smiling at the notary; “monsieur talks now as I used to talk.”
Chérubin blushed and did not know what to reply. Monsieur d’Hurbain continued his efforts to make the young man listen to reason, displaying the utmost amiability and suavity in his arguments. He was careful, however, to dwell on the marquis’s rank and wealth, and he always ended with these words:
“You agree with me now, do you not, and you are coming back to Paris with me?”
But Chérubin, although he seemed to listen with great deference to the notary’s speeches, replied in a very mild tone:
“No, monsieur, I prefer to stay here.”
“It certainly isn’t my fault!” cried Monsieur Gérondif, raising his eyes heavenward. “Every day I say to my pupil the same things that you have said, monsieur; but I reinforce them by example from history, ancient and modern; it’s as if I were teaching a blind man to draw!”
Monsieur d’Hurbain was beginning to doubt the success of his visit, when they heard a horse’s footsteps. They ran to the door to see what it was, and discovered a very stylishly dressed gentleman in a dainty tilbury, accompanied by his groom only.
It was Edouard de Monfréville, who was driving himself. He stopped, jumped lightly to the ground and approached the party, bowing courteously to Chérubin, to whom the notary said:
“Allow me to introduce the son of one of your father’s old friends, Monsieur de Monfréville, who has come to add his entreaties to mine, to induce you to go to Paris.”
Monfréville took Chérubin’s hand and pressed it; and after scrutinizing the young man for some time, he said:
“When, in addition to a name and a fortune, a man also possesses such a charming face, it is really inexcusable for him to hide in a village.”
“Most assuredly!” murmured Gérondif, smiling at Monfréville; “if Helen had hidden, we should not have had the siege of Troy; if Dunois had remained with his nurse, he probably would not have been called ‘le beau Dunois.’”
Monfréville bestowed an ironical glance on the professor, and continued to address Chérubin:
“My dear monsieur, my father was a friend of yours, and that made me desire your acquaintance; it rests entirely with you whether we shall be friends as our fathers were. Oh! I realize that the difference between my age and yours may make my suggestion seem absurd to you, but when you know the world, you will find that such differences vanish before congenial tastes and temperaments; I am certain even now that we shall get on very well together. But deuce take it! what sort of costume is this? A good-looking young fellow, with a fine figure, rigged out in such style! It is pitiful!”
“My young master employs his late father’s tailor,” murmured Jasmin; “I thought that I ought not to take him anywhere else.”
“You were wrong, my faithful servant; a tailor is not a relic to be preserved with respect; evidently this particular one is out of touch with the styles of the day.—Franck! bring what I told you to put under the seat of the tilbury.”
Monfréville’s servant soon appeared laden with clothes; he laid out on a table a beautiful coat made in the latest style, a waistcoat of bewitching material, black satin stocks, dainty cravats, and a little blue velvet cap, with gold lace and tassel.
Chérubin could not restrain a cry of admiration at sight of all those things. Without asking his permission, Monfréville removed his jacket and waistcoat and made him put on what he had brought; then he put a richly embroidered cravat about his neck and tied it rakishly; and lastly he placed the charming little velvet cap on his head and arranged the curls which it did not hide. Then he led the young man in front of a mirror and said:
“Look at yourself! Aren’t you a hundred times better-looking?”
Chérubin blushed with pleasure when he saw how comely he was; and in truth his new costume did impart a wholly different expression to his pretty face. He was so handsome that Nicole, although distressed to find that her fieu was to be taken away from her, could not help crying out:
“Jarni! how fine he is! Why, he’s superb in that rig! He’s a hundred times better-looking than he was!”
“He doesn’t look at all like his late father,” murmured Jasmin.
“He resembles the son of Jupiter and Latona, Diana’s brother, otherwise called Apollo,—Phœbus, if you prefer,” cried Monsieur Gérondif, still smiling.
Monsieur d’Hurbain glanced at Monfréville with an air of satisfaction, as if to congratulate him on having discovered the means of seducing Chérubin, who, in truth, seemed delighted with his costume. He constantly gazed at and admired himself; and Monsieur de Monfréville, to encourage his favorable disposition, made haste to say to him:
“I was told that you lived in a village, but I was loath to believe it! The son of the Marquis de Grandvilain, who ought to be noted for his style, his dress, his manners, who, in short, was made to be a shining light in Parisian society, cannot remain buried in a peasant’s house! It is an anomaly—a crime! These trifling specimens of clothes will give you an idea of what you would have in Paris. I have come in my tilbury to fetch you, and I propose that within a week you shall be the best dressed, the most stylish young man in the capital. You will set the fashion; you are rich enough and handsome enough for that.”
Chérubin seemed to be captivated by Monfréville’s words, and the latter, assured of his triumph, said in a moment:
“Let us start, my young friend, let us not delay any longer. The tilbury is waiting for us, and Paris is beckoning to you.”
But at that Chérubin’s face became clouded, and instead of following Monsieur de Monfréville and the notary, who had risen, he resumed his seat, saying:
“No, I don’t want to go away, for I want Louise to see me in these clothes.”
The two gentlemen from the city were in despair; they believed that they had fully persuaded the young marquis to accompany them, and again he refused.
The notary argued, Monfréville put forth all his eloquence and drew fascinating pictures of the pleasures of Paris, but Chérubin refused to go with them.
Monsieur Gérondif was in dismay, Nicole was triumphant, and Jasmin muttered under his breath:
“I had an idea that these men wouldn’t be any smarter than me.”
No one spoke, for no one knew what course to adopt. Suddenly they heard another carriage approaching. Thereupon a gleam of hope shone in Monfréville’s eyes, and Monsieur d’Hurbain exclaimed:
“Faith! it’s high time that Monsieur Daréna arrived, but I doubt very much his having any better success than we have had.”
“Perhaps he will,” murmured Monfréville; “Daréna is one of those people who dare to do anything.”
The carriage stopped in front of the nurse’s house, and Nicole’s guests ran to the door to see who alighted.
The cab, for it was a vulgar cab that had arrived, seemed to contain a number of people, to judge by the noise inside. Several voices could be heard speaking at once, and continual bursts of laughter. At last the door opened. Monsieur Daréna alighted first, dressed even more shabbily than on the previous day; which fact did not deter him from exhibiting the most distinguished manners, as he assisted his companions to alight.
First came a young woman dressed as a Spaniard, then one dressed as an Odalisk, a third in a Swiss costume, and a fourth in the piquant garb of a Neapolitan. And they were all young, pretty, graceful and shapely; their eyes were bright, mischievous, and most alluring; and there was in their manner of jumping from the carriage, a surprising lightness and grace, and in their general bearing an uncommon absence of restraint.
The villagers gazed at them in wide-eyed amazement. Monsieur Gérondif affected to lower his eyes, but he hazarded a glance nearly every minute. The notary glanced at Monfréville with an air of surprise, muttering:
“What does all this mean?”
Monfréville laughed heartily, as he replied:
“Faith! I believe that he is cleverer than we are.”
Meanwhile, Daréna took two of the ladies by the hand.
“Come, Rosina and Malvina; follow us, Cœlina and Fœdora. We have come to pay our respects to the young Marquis de Grandvilain. Where is he? Ah, yes, I see him; this charming young man with the melting eyes is he. Peste! be on your guard, mesdames; those eyes will make terrible havoc in your ranks.”
As he spoke, Daréna entered the house with his companions. After ushering in his four ladies, who seemed not in the least embarrassed, and who scrutinized laughingly the interior of the rustic dwelling, Daréna saluted Chérubin as if he were an old acquaintance, and said:
“My dear marquis, your notary, Monsieur d’Hurbain, is mine as well; your friend Monsieur de Monfréville is also a very intimate friend of mine; so you see that I too should be your friend—that is a title which I should deem myself fortunate to deserve. Shake hands, marquis—men like us understand each other instantly. You are young, but we will form you.”
Chérubin was bewildered by all that he saw and heard; moreover, the Spaniard and the Neapolitan were already flashing glances at him of a sort to which he was not accustomed; while the Odalisk smiled at him in a most enticing fashion, and the Swiss constantly passed the tip of her tongue over her lips and winked at him. All this caused him a perturbation which he could not define.
“Marquis Chérubin,” continued Daréna, “I have ventured to bring with me four fascinating ladies; they are artists, dancers of the greatest talent, connected with the Grand Opéra in Paris; they had a most eager desire to see you and to drink milk in the country.—Is it possible to obtain milk here, virtuous villager?”
While Daréna put this question to Nicole, who ran off at once to the dairy, the little woman dressed as a Swiss jumped up and down on her chair, crying:
“Yes! milk’s splendid! I’m going to drink it hard.”
Daréna walked to where she sat and nudged her with his elbow, saying in her ear:
“Be kind enough to keep quiet, Malvina, for you can’t say anything but nonsense.”
And Monfréville, biting his lips to avoid laughing, whispered to Daréna:
“You have the face to say that these women are from the Opéra!”
“Three of them are, my dear fellow; I swear that those three are figurantes. The Swiss is at one of the boulevard theatres, it is true, but she has a bewitching leg.—I have brought these ladies in their stage costumes,” Daréna continued, addressing Chérubin, “because they promised to give you a slight specimen of their talent. Come, my goddesses, give us a pretty pas de quatre for the young marquis, who has no idea of what is to be seen at the Opéra. I realize that this isn’t as convenient a place for dancing as the stage; the floor isn’t parqueted; but you will have all the more credit.”
“It isn’t even tiled!” cried the Swiss, looking at her feet; “how do you expect us to slide on such a floor? No, thanks! it’s too much work! We shall come down on our backsides!”
“Ha! ha! very pretty! very pretty!” cried Daréna, affecting to laugh heartily in order to lessen the effect produced by the Swiss girl’s expression; “you must excuse madame; she isn’t a Parisian and she doesn’t know our language very well; she doesn’t understand the comparative value of words.”
“Tibullus, Petronius and Ovid sometimes employed the equivalent,” said Monsieur Gérondif, perpetrating an immense smile, so that the four dancers might see all his teeth.
“I ain’t a Parisian!” cried Mademoiselle Malvina; “well, upon my word! I was born on Rue Mouffetard—just where my mother sells Brie cheese.”
Daréna trod on her foot and whispered to her:
“If you don’t hold your tongue, Malvina, I’ll put you in the cab, you shan’t have any milk, and you shan’t come to the dinner.”
The Swiss held her tongue, and the count, taking a kit from his pocket, prepared to play.
“I’ll be the orchestra,” he said; “I have thought of everything, you see. Come, mesdames, ready.”
Meanwhile, Monsieur d’Hurbain went to Monfréville and said to him in an undertone:
“Really, Monsieur le Comte de Daréna has employed an expedient which—I don’t know whether I ought to assent to this. His scheme seems to me rather shady.”
“Why so?” rejoined Monfréville. “Daréna is cleverer than we are. I think that his method of seduction is all right. After all, the young fellow would go to the Opéra, if he went to Paris; so what is the harm of letting him see here what he would see on the stage? In fact, it seems to me that the illusion is much less.”
“Very well,” said the notary, resuming his seat; “after all, the end justifies the means.”
The four dancers were on the point of beginning their performance, when Nicole appeared with milk and cups. They pounced upon the latter and declared that they proposed to have something to drink first.
While they were drinking, Chérubin kept his eyes constantly on those four women, who were so utterly unlike all the women he had ever before seen. Monsieur Gérondif poured the milk for the dancers with his own hands.
“Assuredly I bear a resemblance to Ganymede at this moment,” he said to them. “He served Jupiter, I serve Terpsichore and her sisters.”
“I say,” said Malvina, snatching the pail from the professor’s hand, “you make us sick, pouring it out so, drop by drop! I’d rather drink as much as I like—it’s a quicker way.”
“It’s amazing how thirsty they are, for fashionable ladies,” said old Jasmin, rolling his eyes in wonderment.
When the milk was exhausted, the four dancers took their places. The others were seated, Daréna with his kit. He played the air of the Jota Arragonaise, and the ladies began to dance with much grace and lightness of foot.
The peasants were lost in admiration. Jasmin applauded; Monsieur Gérondif no longer lowered his eyes, and his whole face was as red and inflamed as his nose.
Monfréville and the notary watched Chérubin; he seemed fascinated, enchanted by the novel spectacle presented to him, and his eyes did not grow weary of gazing at those young and pretty women, whose steps, whose attitudes, whose slightest movements were instinct with pleasure and licentiousness. Daréna, observing the effect produced by the dance, played a livelier air, then another in even quicker time. The dancers followed the change of tempo, and their dance became more rapid, more seductive. They seemed to vie with one another in grace and litheness; their eyes, enlivened by the violent exercise, shone brighter and with more fire. Jasmin applauded wildly, Monsieur Gérondif scratched his nose as if he would demolish it, and Chérubin became much moved. At that moment, excited by the zest with which she danced, Mademoiselle Malvina began to hurl her legs into space with such vigor that it was impossible for the spectators to avoid seeing that she wore no drawers.
“They are bayadères!” cried Monsieur Gérondif, whose eyes were almost out of his head; “it’s the Mozambique dance! it’s very interesting!”
Monsieur d’Hurbain, considering that the Mozambique dance went altogether too far, rose and said:
“Very good, mesdames, but that will do; you must be tired.”
“Bah!” cried Mademoiselle Malvina, “I’d like to dance the cancan myself! I’m rather good at the cancan.”
Daréna, who was desirous that the effect produced by the dance should not be wasted, ran to Chérubin and took his arm, saying:
“Now we are going back to Paris; we are to dine at the Rocher de Cancale with these ladies, and they hope that you will join us, for the party would not be complete without you.”
Chérubin was excited, and he hesitated. Daréna made a sign to the dancers, who at once surrounded the youth, saying: