Part 6

Edouard did not tell the truth; another reason caused him to delay his return to Villeneuve-Saint-Georges. That reason he dared not communicate to Adeline; and after forty-eight hours of married life, after their mutual promises of absolute and reciprocal confidence, behold he already had a secret from his wife!

VIII

WE MUST NOT JUDGE BY APPEARANCES

Let us leave Edouard and his wife for awhile, and return to Brother Jacques, with whom we must become better acquainted.

After his abrupt departure from the garden, Jacques had struck across the fields, and had walked for a long while without paying any heed to the road he was following; his only object was to get away from his brother, whose manners and language had wounded him to the heart. From time to time Jacques muttered a few words; he raised his eyes, stamped violently on the ground and seemed intensely excited. Having arrived in a lovely valley, shaded by ancient walnut trees, Jacques felt the need of rest; he looked about him as if to make sure that no one was following him; everything was calm and peaceful. The peasants working in the fields were the only living things that enlivened the landscape. Jacques lay down at the foot of a tree, and reviewed in his memory the conversation which he had just had with Edouard.

“Because I look as if I were unfortunate, he treats me with contempt! Because I wear moustaches, he dares not introduce me to his wife! He offers me money, and does not ask me to live with him! Is that the way a man should treat his brother? Why that contemptuous air? Have I dishonored my father’s name? If my manners are rough, my speech is frank and my conscience clear. I may be poor and unfortunate, but never, no, never, will I commit an action for which I would need to blush. I have done foolish things,--youthful escapades, it is true; but I have no shameful offences to reproach myself with, and this that I have here, on my breast, should guarantee me against all reproach, by commanding me never to deserve it.”

Thereupon Jacques opened his coat and gazed proudly at the cross of the Legion of Honor, pinned to an old military jacket which he wore underneath. That reward of his valor was his sole consolation; and yet Jacques had concealed the decoration, because he had been for several days past forced to seek hospitality from peasants, who were not always hospitable, and Jacques did not wish to show his cross at the risk of humiliation. He was right; a man who wears a symbol of merit should not be an object of compassion to other people.

Jacques had his eyes fixed upon his decoration; he was thinking of the day when his colonel had pinned it on his breast; he remembered the battles in which he had taken part, his mind returned to the battlefield, and he saw himself surrounded by his comrades, and marching eagerly against the enemy; the memory of those glorious days revived his depressed spirit, and he forgot his sorrows and his brother’s coldness.

At that moment, a young man, dressed very much like Jacques, but whose bright and animated face denoted neither depression nor poverty, came down a hill leading into the valley, whistling a military march, and marking time with a switch on the gooseberry bushes and lilacs which lined the road.

On arriving in the valley, the traveller stopped and looked about in all directions.

“What the deuce! not an inn! not a poor little wine-shop even! I wonder if I have gone astray? I don’t see any sign of a village, and I’m as thirsty as one possessed. But no matter! Forward!”

And he began to sing:

“I saw Jeanneton And her pretty little foot I even saw her----”

“Ah! there’s someone at last. I say, my friend!”

The traveller’s words were addressed to Jacques, who raised his eyes and recognized his faithful comrade; he ran toward him, exclaiming:

“Ah! it is you, is it, my dear Sans-Souci?”

“Why, it’s comrade Jacques! Pardieu! I couldn’t have better luck; wait till I lie down beside you in the shade of your walnut; I would rather be in the shade of a cask of burgundy; but however, one must accommodate oneself to everything.”

“Still the same, Sans-Souci! still cheerful, and fond of good living!”

“Oh! as for that, I shan’t change; cheerfulness is the wealth of poor devils like us. You know that I used to sing when we were going into battle! They--let me see--what do they call that?”

“Disbanded.”

“Yes, that’s it,--they disbanded us; and instead of being soldiers, here we are civilians again! Well, we must make the best of it; besides, we have always behaved well, and if there is any need to defend the country again some day, why then, forward march!”

“Yes, but how are we to live meanwhile?”

“Like other people, by working.”

“My poor Sans-Souci! there are some people that live on the fat of the land without ever turning their hand; and others, with the best will in the world to work, can’t find any way to earn their living.”

“Bah! you always look at the dark side. Didn’t your journey turn out well? You came into this region for some purpose.”

“Oh! I found more than I expected.”

“And you are not satisfied?”

“I have no reason to be. I just saw my brother, and he received me like a beggar.”

“Your brother is a wild Indian, whom I would beat with the flat of my sword if I still had one.”

“My dress, my face, and my long moustaches--he didn’t like any of them.”

“That’s a great pity! Didn’t he see that token of your valor?”

“No, it was out of sight, and I am very glad of it; my brother isn’t capable of appreciating what I have here, and I propose to make him blush for his treatment of me some day.”

“So your brother is a rich man?”

“Yes, yes.”

“A swell?”

“Yes.”

“So you have a family, have you?”

“To be sure.”

“Ah! that’s something I haven’t got. I never knew father or mother. I am a natural child; and it doesn’t prevent me from going my way with my head up, because my ancestors’ brats don’t look at me; and besides that, in the days of our first parents, there wasn’t any notaries, and that doesn’t prevent the descendants of Cain from being very well thought of in the world. In fact our sergeant, who could talk very well when he wasn’t tight, told me that love children made their way better than other children; and on that subject quoted a long list of names that I won’t undertake to repeat, because I’ve forgotten them.--But let’s return to your business. You never mentioned your family or your adventures to me; we knew each other in the regiment, and we made several campaigns together; we both had the jaundice in Spain, and frozen feet in Russia; and I say that such things are very good at cementing friendship; you won the cross and I didn’t--that’s the only difference between us; but you well earned it; you saved the colonel’s life. But, the excellent man! that didn’t prevent his being killed the next day; it was unlucky that you couldn’t always be on hand.--Well, after a great many things had happened, they disbanded us! That’s a pity, for perhaps we might have become marshals of France. In order to comfort each other, we stayed together, except that you came alone to this village, while I went to a place nearby to look after a little brunette, whom I courted long ago and who swore a bullet-proof fidelity to me!”

“Well, did you find your brunette?”

“Pardieu, yes! Oh! I tell you that there’s some analogy between our destinies: while your brother was receiving you so cordially, my sweetheart came to me with three children she had had during my absence, and another half way along. You can imagine that there was nothing to say to that. My first impulse was to give her a good thrashing, but I reflected that the poor child might well have thought me dead and that calmed me down. I kissed my faithless one, and while her children were splashing in the mud with the ducks, and her husband cutting wood, we made peace; in fact, we did better than that, for I mean to have something to do with the fourth, which she began while waiting for me; so we parted good friends and I came off!”

“Poor Sans-Souci! Women are no better than men, but men are simply less skilful at concealing their falseness! I have learned to know the world, I tell you, and I ought to have guessed what sort of welcome my brother would have given me. But one always hopes, and that is where one makes a mistake.”

“Come, tell me your adventures; we are in the open air, no one can hear us, and no one will disturb us; and while I listen to you, I will rest and smoke a cigar.”

“Well! all right; I will tell you what has happened to me since I was fifteen years old, for that was the time that I began my cruising.”

Jacques unbuttoned his coat, leaned back against the tree and made ready to relate his adventures to his comrade; while he, having taken a flint and steel from his pocket and lighted a cigar, gravely placed it in his mouth, in order to listen to his companion’s narrative with twofold enjoyment.

IX

BROTHER JACQUES’S ADVENTURES

I left my father’s house at fifteen. My mother did not seem to care much for me, and she never mentioned my name except with repugnance. But I remember a stout old fellow with a pleasant face, who used to come to our house sometimes and who always called me Jacques with all the strength of his lungs. I believe indeed, that that old fellow was my godfather and that his name too was Jacques. This much is certain, that he seemed to be very fond of me and that whenever he came to see me he gave me toys or bonbons. But in spite of my godfather’s kindness, my father’s caresses and my love for my brother, I was horribly bored at home. I could not keep still a minute. I had no taste for study, and as I thought of nothing but travelling round the world and fighting, I did not see the necessity of learning Latin and mathematics. Ah! my dear Sans-Souci, I have paid already for those errors of my youth, and I have learned at my own expense that education is always of great service, no matter in what situation we may find ourselves. If I had had some education I should not have remained a simple private; and even if my good conduct had raised me to the rank of captain, it is always disagreeable when one goes into the society of one’s superiors never to be able to open one’s mouth without the fear of making some horrible slip, and of setting other people laughing at you. But let us return to our subject: I started off one fine morning without trumpet or drum, or without thinking in which direction I should go. I had one louis in my pocket, which I had received a few days before from my godfather, and I imagined that such a sum would never be exhausted.

After walking for a very long time, I stopped in a village in front of a wine shop. I went in and ordered dinner, with the assurance of a government messenger. I was well treated; I had an open, honest face, and I jingled my money as I hopped about the kitchen and uncovered all the dishes in order to select what I wanted. The host watched me laughingly and let me do as I chose. He served a good dinner and gave me white wine and red wine. A little hunchback, who was dining at a table near me, examined me closely. He tried to enter into conversation with me and find out where I came from and where I was going; but as I have never liked inquisitive people and as the little hunchback’s remarks displeased me, I looked at him without answering, or whistled and sang while he was talking.

When I was well filled, I asked the host how much he wanted; the rascal asked me fifteen francs for my dinner. I made a wry face; but I paid the bill and left the inn, reflecting that my louis, which was to last forever, would not suffice to pay for a second meal, if I chose to continue to play the nobleman.

The place where I had dined and which I had taken for a village was Saint-Germain; I asked the way to the forest and resumed my journey, stopping only to jump ditches, and to belabor donkeys that I happened to pass.

As I was entering Poissy, I heard a horse trotting behind me; I stopped and recognized my hunchback, who was riding a raw-boned little horse, which he was obliged to strike constantly with the spur and the whip; else the animal would have stopped every few steps. He ceased to crack his whip when he was beside me, and contented himself with a walk, in order to remain at my side. He tried to enter into conversation, and as I was beginning to be tired then, and the croup of a horse, however thin the beast might be, seemed to me a very agreeable seat, I displayed less pride, and talked with the hunchback.

“Where are you going at this rate, my dear boy?” he asked me.

“Why, I don’t exactly know. I mean to travel, to see the country and enjoy myself.”

“Have you no parents?”

“Oh, yes! But they are in Paris and want me to pass my time in reading and writing; I got tired of that and I came away.”

“I understand; a piece of folly! a youthful escapade! Oh! I know what it is. That’s about all one sees now.--But have you much money for your travels?”

“I have nine francs.”

“Nine francs! Hum! you’ll have to eat wild cow.”[A]

[A] _Manger de la vache enragée: i.e._, to endure hunger and privation.

“What do you mean with your cow? I ate chicken and eels and pigeons and ducks.”

“Yes, but you spent fifteen francs, and with the nine you’ve left, you can’t eat three more meals like that.”

I made no reply, but I realized that the hunchback was right; and yet, as I had a will of my own, and as I was accustomed to make up my mind quickly, I looked at the little man with a decided air, and said to him after a moment:

“All right! I will eat cow.”

“I see that you have pluck,” he said; “but still, when a man can find a chance to live well while travelling, it isn’t to be despised; and I can supply you with the means.”

“You can?”

“Yes, myself.”

“How so?”

“I will tell you. But so that you can listen to me at your ease and not get more tired, wouldn’t you like to get up here behind me?”

“Oh! I ask nothing better.”

Delighted by my new travelling companion’s proposition, I jumped recklessly on the poor horse’s back; I slipped, grasped the little man’s hump, fell, and dragged him with me, and we both rolled in the road; but luckily his placid steed did not stir.

My new acquaintance rose good-humoredly enough, and simply advised me to be less eager in the future, because we might not always fall so softly. I promised. My hunchback put his foot in the stirrup. I too mounted, but with more precaution; and when we were firmly seated on our saddle and he had, by dint of blows, induced his nag to walk on, he resumed his discourse, which I had interrupted so abruptly.

“My dear boy, everyone in this world tries to make money and earn a fortune, that is, unless he is born rich; and still, we see millionaires thinking of nothing but speculation, capitalists engaged in large undertakings in order to double their wealth; and nobles seeking alliances which may add to the splendor of their family. I, who am neither a noble nor a capitalist nor even a merchant, and have no hope of becoming any one of them, I tried for a long time to think of some means by which I could, if not make a fortune, at least live at my ease. I soon found that means. With intelligence one soon learns to know men. I travelled; I studied men’s tastes and characters. I saw that, with a little address, poor mortals are easily deceived; all that is necessary is to take them on their weak side, which one can easily divine when one has tact and penetration, as I have.”

“Ah! so you have tact and penetration?” I said to my companion, as I buried in the flanks of our steed some pins which I had discovered on the portmanteau that was between us.

“Yes, my dear boy, I flatter myself that I have.”

“Then, why is your horse going so fast now?”

“Because I keep my whip snapping, and he knows that he is soon going to have his supper.”

“That is true; I see that you have tact.--Well, go on, I am listening.”

“So then, it was by flattering men’s passions that I found a way to live at my ease; moreover, I instructed myself in botany, medicine, chemistry, and even in anatomy too; and with my knowledge I have not only composed remedies for all diseases but also philters to arouse love, hatred, jealousy, and to make well people sick; it is in this last art that I am particularly proficient.”

“Ah! I understand now. No doubt you sell vulneraries too, like that tall, red man that I used to see in Paris on the squares and street-corners. People called him a charlatan, I believe.”

At the name charlatan, my companion leaped in the saddle in such a way that he nearly threw us both off; luckily I clung firmly to him, and we got off with merely a fright.

“My dear boy,” he said when he had become a little calmer, “I forgive you the name of charlatan. You don’t know me yet; indeed I admit that there is a little charlatanism in my business, and that three-quarters of my remedies and my philters do not produce the effect that is expected of them; but we make mistakes in medicine as we do in everything else. We take cathartics and make ourselves sick; we have a toothache, and we take an elixir which spoils all our teeth; we try to obtain a position which we are not able to fill; we go into maritime speculations which a sudden storm destroys; we think that we have intelligence when we have not the intelligence to succeed, which is the most important of all; we determine to be prudent and we make fools of ourselves; we desire happiness, and we marry and have a wife and children who often cause us untold anxiety!--In short, my little man, people have made mistakes in all lines, and it is great luck when things turn out as we had anticipated, or hoped.”

“Look here, monsieur,” I said to my little hunchback, whose chatter was beginning to weary me, “what do you expect to do with me, after all is said and done?”

“This: when I stop in a village or small town, I cannot make myself sufficiently well known alone; I need an assistant, to go about the town to deliver prospectuses, and to answer for me when I am busy, and make a memorandum of the questions that people want to ask me.”

“But I don’t choose to be your assistant, as I don’t want to learn anything.”

“I understand that very well, my friend. Oh! I don’t propose to drive you crazy with fatiguing work. I will have you make pills, that’s all.”

“Pills?”

“Yes, pills of all sizes and of all colors. Never fear, it won’t be hard; but that isn’t all.”

“What else shall I do?”

“You must be able to sleep when you choose, and to play the sleep-walker when you please.”

“Oh! as to sleeping, I can do that all right!”

“When you are asleep, you must answer the questions that are asked you.”

“How do you expect me to answer questions when I am asleep?”

“Why, you will pretend to be asleep, my boy; I will explain all that to you. Oh! that is one of the principal branches of my business.”

“When you put people to sleep?”

“No, but when I make sleep-walkers talk, and when I make them give remedies to sick people.”

“One moment; I am willing to sleep, but I am not willing to give remedies or take them.--Indeed, I have been whipped at home for refusing.”

“Oh! you don’t understand; when I say remedies, I mean medicines to take----”

“Yes, with a syringe; I know all about that!”

“I tell you that you don’t know what I am talking about. You will talk while pretending to be asleep; I will teach you your lesson beforehand, and you will answer the questions asked by invalids or curiosity seekers.”

“Well, I don’t understand at all.”

“Pardieu! I can believe that; nor do those people who question the somnambulists; and that is just wherein the charm of it lies; if they knew what to think about it, it would no longer be possible to earn one’s living with magnetism and somnambulism. But will you be my assistant and help me with my business, or not? I will feed you well, I will dress you suitably, and you will see the country, for I never stay long in the same place.”

“And all I shall have to do for that is to make pills and sleep?”

“Not another thing!”

“Then, it’s agreed, I will go with you.”

So I became the little hunchback’s assistant. We reached a village that night. My patron went to the best inn, and ordered a very good supper. It seemed to me very pleasant to travel on horseback, without having to worry about my meals. Moreover, I was always at liberty to leave my companion when I chose, and that reason was enough to make me enjoy myself with him; the certainty of being free gives a charm to existence and makes the most trivial incidents enjoyable; bondage, on the contrary, throws a tinge of gloom over all our actions; it causes us to shun pleasure; it takes away all the joy of love, it deprives the heart of all its strength and the imagination of all its vivacity.

This that I am saying, Sans-Souci, is not my own; it is a sentence which my godfather repeated to me often, and which I remembered easily because it harmonized with my taste.

When I awoke the next morning, my hunchback, whose name was Graograicus--a name which he had probably manufactured for himself, and which no one could pronounce without making a wry face, which made it altogether impressive--my little hunchback, as I said, suggested giving me a lesson in somnambulism, which we were to practise in the first place of any importance in which we might stop. I accepted his proposition. He made me sit down, told me to stare at vacancy as if I were looking at nothing, and taught me to sleep with my eyes open; but, as that tired my eyes, he allowed me to close them when we only had peasants or poor devils to cure.

Then came the matter of philters; my companion was out of them, and it was necessary to prepare more. While I was cleaning a dozen or more four-ounce phials, which were to contain the charms, Master Graograicus went out to purchase plants, roots, and such other ingredients as he needed in the manufacture of the philters. He lighted a fire, and borrowed from our host all the bowls that he had; and our bedroom, where everything was turned topsy-turvy, began, in my companion’s language, to be a workshop of chemistry and magic.

“Look here,” I said to my hunchback, while he was pulverizing burdock, and I was rolling cinnamon, “what are you going to use these things for that you are making? I am willing to be your assistant, but only on condition that you teach me your mysteries.”

“You shall know, my boy; we must not have any secrets from each other. I am now making a philter to arouse love; it is not very difficult to make, for all I need is tonics, alcohol and stimulants. I boil cinnamon, cloves, vanilla, pepper, sugar and brandy together. When a person has swallowed that mixture, that person becomes very amorous; and as soon as he or she who has administered my philter is with the object of his or her love, he finds that the charm operates and has no doubt that I am a magician. Furthermore, this little drug has the property of ruining the teeth; teeth are not ruined without pain, and as the toothache is commonly called love-sickness, as soon as it is known that the person who takes the philter has pains in his teeth, it is presumed that he has fallen in love. I sell a great deal of this philter, especially to ladies; we will lay in a good stock of it.

“Let us go on to the next one, which arouses jealousy. Ah! I confess that it cost me long study and profound reflection, but I believe that I have solved the problem successfully. In the first place, what gives rise to jealousy? The suspicions which one conceives concerning the fidelity of the object of one’s love. Now, these suspicions have a cause, for there is no effect without a cause; to be sure, a person is sometimes jealous without cause, but much more frequently with a cause; so I said to myself: