Part 19

"She's pretty well, although she works awful hard. You see, she has to work for two now! She was confined more than two months ago; she's got a little girl, a sweet, pretty little thing."

"Ah! so much the better! And the child is with her?"

"Yes, to be sure; oh! there's no danger of her parting with the child; she nurses her herself, and never leaves her a minute; she's so afraid something'll happen to her, that she'll cry or need her care, that she wont let her out of her sight a single minute. When she goes out to buy her provisions, she carries her in her arms. Sometimes I say to her: 'Why, Madame Landernoy'--I never call her anything but _madame_ now--'why, Madame Landernoy,' I says, 'just leave your child here with me; I'll look after little Marie while you do your errands, and you can go much quicker if you don't have her to carry.'--But she won't do it. I believe, God forgive me! that she's afraid my cats will hurt the child; but they ain't capable of it, monsieur; I've brought 'em up too well for that. They're playful and sly--that's because they're young, and we've all been young; but as for bad temper and clawing, I never saw any signs of it in 'em."

"I see that Madame Landernoy loves her daughter dearly."

"Love her! why, her daughter's her life, her thought, her heart! Ah! my word! it would be a pity not to have a child, when one's such a good mother!"

"You are right, madame; children are a burden only to those who do not know how to love them! Did the young mother consent finally to accept the work I left with you?"

"Yes, monsieur. At first, when she read your letter--she read it here in my lodge--she shook her head like a person who ain't quite convinced. What can you expect? she's suspicious, poor girl! Well! just hear me call her a girl, will you! what a stupid! The poor woman has good cause for that. A scalded cat's afraid of cold water--mine all are; I can punish 'em more, monsieur, by throwing two or three drops of water in their faces than if I took a stick to 'em."

"You were saying that when Madame Landernoy read my letter she did not seem fully convinced of the honesty of my intentions?"

"There was a little doubt left in her mind; but then she says: 'I may as well do this work, as that gentleman will come here to get it.'"

"So that my shirts are done?"

"Yes, monsieur; they've been here more'n five weeks, with the little bill; and in the last few days Madame Landernoy's asked me two or three times if you'd been or sent anybody to get your shirts--because, I guess--just now---- _Dame!_ monsieur, work ain't always very plenty, you understand; and now that she's got a child, she has to have a stove in her room, because she don't want her daughter to take cold."

"I understand, madame; I am very, very sorry that I delayed so about coming. Give me the bill at once."

"Take your shirts first and see how well they're done! Such sewing! it's perfect!"

The concierge had taken a parcel from her commode; but I pushed it away, saying:

"I am sure they are well done. But the bill, the bill!"

"I'll give it to you, monsieur. I'm sorry you won't look at your shirts. Here's the bill--yes, that's it."

I looked to see what I owed, and read:

"For making twelve shirts--twenty-seven francs."

I put my hand in my pocket, and sighed.

"Twenty-seven francs!" I muttered.

"_Dame!_ yes, at forty-five sous the shirt," said the concierge, hearing the sigh. "Do you think that's too much?"

"No, madame; on the contrary, I think that it's not enough. The young woman must spend at least two days making a shirt, doesn't she?"

"I should think so! Say three, and you'll be nearer the mark."

"So that, by working constantly, and robbing herself of sleep perhaps,--for she has a child that often requires her attention,--the poor woman would earn only fifteen sous a day. Can she live, board and clothe herself, and keep herself warm, on fifteen sous?"

"Mon Dieu! monsieur, it ain't every woman who sews for a living as earns that. But then, as you say, they can't live, and they're obliged to--to do something else."

"If I should have these shirts made at a shop, madame, I should have to pay at least three francs each. I am not a tradesman myself, and I don't care to make money out of a workwoman. Twelve shirts at three francs makes thirty-six francs which I owe Madame Landernoy. Be kind enough to hand it to her for me."

I held out the money to the concierge, who did not take it, because she was wiping her eyes. My action seemed to her very meritorious, and yet it was no more than just.

"You are a very good man, monsieur," she said at last, in a tearful voice; "if everybody thought as you do, seamstresses could live and we should see fewer poor wretches on the streets at night. But still, I don't know whether I ought to take the sum you offer me."

"Why not, pray?"

"Because the little woman's so proud in her poverty. She'll say: 'He only owed me twenty-seven francs, and you ought not to have taken any more.'"

"You can explain to her that it's the price I always pay."

"Oh, yes! but that won't seem right to her. _Dame!_ what can you expect? She's suspicious, as I told you. And, worse luck! people do so few--honest things in these days----"

"You must remind her that her daughter may need a thousand things."

"Oh, yes! I know; that's where I shall have to catch her. Well, I'll keep what you give me; and I can give it back if she won't take it."

"She must take it! But that is not all, madame; has she much work at this moment?"

"I don't think so; so this money'll come in very handy."

"That isn't enough; it will soon be spent."

"The deuce! how fast you go! My, thirty-six francs is a lot of money!"

"I would like to give Madame Landernoy other work to do."

"But you can't go on having shirts made forever."

"Mon Dieu! what can I give her? Ah! does she make waistcoats?"

"I believe she tried one for the landlord's little boy; but they said it was a failure. Still, that little fellow's terrible hard to suit; he had his cap made over five times, and finally swore he'd have a three-cornered hat! He's so spoiled that he's unreasonable. But just let him try again to set my cats fighting!"

"Then it's understood, madame, that I am to buy some material for waistcoat fronts, which I will bring you, together with a pattern, and you are to give the work to Madame Landernoy to do, and tell her not to worry; that her customer isn't exacting, that I am having them made for someone in the country."

The concierge dropped her cats to shake hands with me.

"I understand you, monsieur," she said; "you're afraid the young mother won't have work enough; you mean to give her work, by hook or by crook. You're interested in her, and I'll bet that she makes a mistake to suspicion you. Oh! I know what's what, I do; I can scent one of those empty-headed puppies who comes to talk nonsense, when he's a mile away! They don't go about it the way you do; they slip a piece of money in my hand, with a little note that smells of musk and hair oil, and then they examine the house and the yard and the windows as if they meant to break in. I know 'em, I know 'em!"

"No, Madame Potrelle, I am not a lover--here, at all events."

"_Pardi!_ I can understand that you may be, somewhere else. It would be a pity if you didn't think about such things, at your age."

"I will go and buy the material and bring it to you."

"But that will give you the trouble of coming back again, monsieur. If you want, I can save you that. My niece happens to be here just now, and she can look out for my lodge while I go to monsieur's address; and I'll tell you at the same time whether Madame Landernoy consents to take the thirty-six francs."

Something told me that the woman had some hidden reason for making that suggestion. I fancied that she desired to come to my lodgings, so that she might find out more about me and be certain that I had given my own name in my letter to Mignonne; indeed, might it not be that the young mother herself had asked her to try to find out who I was?

As I had nothing to fear from such information as Madame Potrelle could collect about me, I accepted her proposal.

"Here is my address," I said, handing her one of my cards. "Be there in two hours, and I shall have made my purchases. Please be good enough to bring me my shirts at the same time."

"With pleasure, monsieur!"

Madame Potrelle was prompt; I had been at home only a few minutes, when Pomponne appeared and said with comic gravity:

"There's a woman outside asking for you, monsieur. She has something in her apron, and a parcel under her arm. I suppose she's a second-hand dealer who wants to sell you something."

"Hold your tongue, Pomponne, and show her in!"

My servant obeyed my order, although he seemed much puzzled that I received in my salon a person whom he evidently considered unworthy of the honor; and he kept his eye on the object which the concierge held to her breast, wrapped in her apron. I motioned to him to withdraw, and he left the room, walking backward.

Madame Potrelle made a succession of reverences, and handed me my shirts, which she had under her arm, wrapped in a handkerchief. The good woman expressed her admiration of my apartments and their furnishings; which goes to show that opulence always produces its effect on the multitude and on private individuals as well. I tried to put her at her ease, and forced her to sit down in an easy-chair; but she continued to hug her apron to her breast, and it seemed to embarrass her.

At last she partly opened the apron, saying:

"I beg your pardon, monsieur, for venturing to bring him here--but he never goes out, poor dear, and I thought it would do him good."

"What do you mean, Madame Potrelle? have you got a child in there?"

"No, monsieur, no; it's one of my cats, Bribri, the youngest one. The others let him be and won't ever play with him, just because he limps a bit, poor little rascal! He's got a little trouble in his leg. Cats are as bad as men; they turn up their noses at the weak ones! That's why I wanted to give the poor dear a little pleasure."

"You did well, Madame Potrelle; let Bribri run about a little, if you wish."

"You see, monsieur, my cats are well brought up; they ain't capable of forgetting themselves, no matter where they be."

"I am sure of it."

The concierge opened her apron entirely, and a small black and white cat escaped from its folds and scuttled under a piece of furniture.

"Well," I said, "have you seen Madame Landernoy?"

"Yes, monsieur; when she found out that you'd given me more money than she'd put in her bill, she wouldn't take it, and she almost got mad with me. It was no use for me to say: 'The gentleman always pays that price;' she said that didn't make any difference to her. The only way I could make her take the money was to tell her that you had other work for her to do and she could let it go on that.--Well! on my word! there he is on the couch now! Bribri! you mustn't get upon that, you scamp!"

"We will see, when it comes to paying for the waistcoats. Poor girl! what noble pride! what an upright soul! And this is the sort of woman that men take pleasure in defiling!"

"What do you say, monsieur?"

"Nothing, Madame Potrelle. Here are the material, the linings, and the pattern. Take them all, and please accept this for your trouble."

I slipped five francs into the concierge's hand; she made some objection to taking it, declaring that whatever she did for her tenant she did unselfishly. I succeeded without too much difficulty in removing her scruples. She took the material; but the next thing was to capture Bribri, who had established himself under a sofa and refused to come out at all, or came out only to run under something else. It seemed to me that he showed much agility for a cripple.

Madame Potrelle made the circuit of my salon several times on all fours. At last, by rolling a ball of paper across the floor, we succeeded in enticing and catching Bribri, whom his mistress replaced in her apron, saying reprovingly:

"You ain't been a good boy; you shan't go out again for six weeks.--Adieu, monsieur! you haven't got any other word to send to my tenant?"

"Tell her that I am very fond of children, and that I would like to kiss her daughter."

"Ah! if she could hear you, monsieur, I'll bet that she'd hold her little Marie up to you right away. But you won't let three months go by without coming again, will you, monsieur?"

"No, Madame Potrelle; I shall come very soon to hear about Madame Landernoy."

"And I'll tell her, monsieur, that you're an excellent young man--because--anyone can see right away that---- Well! if the little rascal ain't swearing now! Ah! catch me taking you to walk again!"

I dismissed the concierge, who went away without giving Pomponne a chance to see what she had under her apron. He was thunderstruck.

XXVI

THE SQUIRREL

As I was about to leave the house, Pomponne handed me a card; it was Balloquet's. He had been several times to see me and had failed to find me. I was ashamed of my discourteous treatment of that young man, to whom I was indebted for my acquaintance with Armantine and Frédérique. It was not his fault if nothing had come of that acquaintance, neither love nor friendship. I was very sure that he had been more fortunate than I, and that the liaison he had begun at Monsieur Bocal's party had led to something. But there was no reason why I should not convince myself of the fact, and I determined to pay Balloquet a visit.

I betook myself to the young physician's abode on Place Bréda. Balloquet had established himself there in the hope of obtaining patients among the lorettes. He considered that with such a clientage his fortune was assured. He had my best wishes, but it was not medicine that he practised with those ladies.

As I was entering the house in which lived my jovial companion of the night of the weddings, the concierge stopped me.

"Where is monsieur going?"

"To see Monsieur Balloquet, physician."

"He has not lived here for two months, monsieur."

"His address, if you please?"

"Rue d'Amsterdam, No. 42, near the railroad station."

To Rue d'Amsterdam I went. It seemed that Balloquet had not obtained the practice that he hoped for among the lorettes; perhaps he had decided to be a railroad doctor--that is to say, to be on hand to attend to arriving and departing travellers. That would not be a bad idea.

I arrived at No. 42. It was a handsome house, and quite new, naturally enough, as the street was new. I asked for Dr. Balloquet. The concierge pointed to a staircase at the rear of the courtyard:

"Top floor, door facing you. He must be in."

The top floor was at least the fifth. It seemed to me that it must be a bad thing for a doctor to live so far up. Some of the patients who came to consult him would certainly find it hard work to climb so high. Probably Balloquet loved fresh air, and made more visits than he received.

The hall was quite light and very clean and neat; but I had to climb six flights of stairs before I reached the top landing. I got there at last, and found the name of Balloquet, with his professional title, on a little card nailed to the door that faced me. It occurred to me that a copper plate would be better. I thought that I remembered that he had a very fine one at his other lodgings; probably he was having it changed.

I pulled a dilapidated tassel, which had at one time done duty on a curtain. The bell rang shrilly, but nobody opened the door. Perhaps the apartment was very large. I rang again, but nobody appeared. Still, the concierge had said:

"He must be in."

I tried another method. Sometimes young men dread a woman's visit, especially when they have another woman with them. I coughed in several keys, and in a moment the door opened a little way and Balloquet's nose appeared. When he spied me, he threw the door wide open, crying:

"Why, it's my dear Rochebrune! Come in, my dear fellow, come in! That was a good idea of yours, to cough. I was apprehensive of other visits."

"A doctor doesn't ordinarily fear them."

"That depends on what kind they are."

"Perhaps you have company, and I disturb you?"

"Not at all. I am alone. Come in."

I passed through a very small room, in which I did not see a single piece of furniture, into a large bedroom with an iron bed, a desk, chairs, two trunks, and a small book-case. Clothes and toilet articles were scattered about on all the furniture and in every corner. If picturesque disorder is the result of an artistic temperament, it is impossible to be more artistic than Balloquet, who offered me a chair, saying, as he removed the dressing gown in which he was wrapped:

"I'll go back to bed, with your permission?"

"Certainly; but you lie in bed very late; are you ill?"

"Not now; but I've had a hard time."

"You are changed, that is true. Where is your fine coloring, and the fresh complexion that procured you so many soft glances?"

"Oh! as to my fresh complexion, I have lost that entirely; but it will come back. It's infernally cold here!"

"That is true."

"Come nearer the fireplace."

"I haven't the slightest objection, but how will that help me? There's no fire."

"No fire! Gad! that's so. I remember now that I didn't find a single stick this morning in that trunk that I use as a woodbox; indeed, that's why I stayed in bed, because it was warmer here. Will you get into bed with me, without ceremony?"

"No, thanks; I prefer to be cold. But, tell me, Balloquet, what in the deuce has happened to you since I saw you last? Then you had a very pretty little suite of rooms, handsomely furnished; you had everything you wanted, and a fellow didn't freeze in your room; and to-day you are perched on a sixth floor, in a single room; for I don't see any other than the one I entered, and this is evidently the whole apartment."

"Yes; but how beautifully it's decorated, eh? Fresh paint, and this wall paper, and that ceiling with a centre-piece!"

"Yes, yes, it's all fresh and new; for all that, I should think that you'd need some furniture."

"Do you think so? For my part, when an apartment has pretty wall paper and fresh paint, it seems to me that very little furniture is required."

"Very little, possibly, but some; and I didn't see a single piece in the outer room."

"Furniture would make it look smaller, and it's none too large."

I began to laugh, and Balloquet followed suit, rolling himself up in the bedclothes.

"My dear Rochebrune," he continued, "I will conceal the truth from you no longer: you see before you a man who is completely _strapped_--yes, completely!"

"Parbleu! did you suppose that I hadn't discovered it?"

"I'll tell you what has happened to me.--Sapristi! where in the deuce is it? I can't find it, and I must have it."

"What are you looking for under your bedclothes?"

"A friend, a trusty companion, who is of great assistance to me."

"A dog taught to fetch and carry, eh?"

"No, no, it isn't a dog. Ah! here it is!"

And Balloquet produced a little squirrel which he had just captured at the foot of his bed, and which he proceeded to fasten to the back of a chair by a small chain.

"What do you do with that beast?"

"He's a gift from the sentimental Satiné; and he would have gone the way of everything else, but for the fact that he has often helped me out of a scrape."

"That squirrel?"

"Yes, my dear fellow. Perhaps you will have ocular proof of it before long. But let me tell you the story of my misfortunes. I am sorry that you won't get into bed; I'm afraid that you are cold."

"No. Haven't you even a match here?"

"Faith! it's doubtful. Ah, yes! I see three in the corner. Why? have you got some firewood in your pocket?"

"No; but I have some cigars, and I propose to smoke one."

"An excellent idea! smoking keeps you warm. Have you a cigar for friendship?"

"Always."

"I recognize you there!"

"Could Achilles have smoked without Patroclus?"

Balloquet gave me a single match, begging me to be careful of it. I lighted a cigar, and from it he lighted the one that I gave him. Then he covered himself with the bedclothes, I wrapped myself hermetically in my cloak, and he began:

"The last time I saw you was at the dinner Dupréval gave us, where Fouvenard told us such a villainous story."

"By the way, you were rather intimate with Fouvenard, I think; what is he doing now?"

"I don't know. I never see him. I am very far from being a saint, but his adventure with that poor girl from Sceaux made me detest him."

"Give me your hand, Balloquet; I am glad that you think as I do on that subject. I should have had a very poor opinion of you, if you had continued to be that man's friend. Take another cigar, and go on; I am listening."

"You remember those two famous wedding parties, don't you? I attended Mademoiselle Pétronille Bocal's, where, after some rather lively scrimmages, I became the jewel, the Benjamin of the family, thanks to your arrival with Papa Bocal's landlord. You saw how refreshments were served at that function: punch, mulled wine, and _bischoff_ circulating all the time. The women were of all the colors of the rainbow, and so lively and free and easy! the number of glances that were flashed at me was fabulous! but I had cast my spell on a buxom, high-colored brunette, with red roses in her hair."

"I remember your charmer; I saw you talking with her."

"In that case, you see that I don't flatter her. To make a long story short, after supper, during which there was a time when the whole company was fighting because Madame Girie, the groom's mother, swore that she hadn't had the second joint of a chicken that rightfully belonged to her, and that they hadn't given her any truffles when all the others had some, we left the mother-in-law quarrelling, the father swearing, the groom apologizing, and the bride weeping and tearing her hair, and stole away, my widow and I, in much better spirits than the givers of the feast. But it's almost always like that; _sic vos_--you know the rest.

"My new conquest sold gloves; she had a fine shop on Boulevard des Italiens. No end of style! Mirrors everywhere, violet-wood counter, and an odor of perfumery as soon as you entered the shop! I was in raptures. 'At last, here's a woman who won't cost you anything, and they're very scarce!' I said to myself. In fact, during the first few days, my pretty widow invited me to dine in her back shop. We dined very well, for Madame Satiné likes good things, the delicacies of the season; moreover, she kept me in gloves; as soon as she saw that mine were shabby, she'd say:

"'Fi! fi! what sort of gloves are you wearing? I like to have a man always well gloved; that's the way to recognize a dandy.'

"I let her do as she pleased; I can never refuse a woman anything.

"One day, my loving Satiné, with whom I was dining, said to me:

"'Look you, my little Loquet,'--she always called me by the tail of my name,--'I have an opportunity to make a lot of money.'

"'My dear,' said I, 'you must seize it as you do my name--by the tail.'

"'I know someone who has invented a way of making gloves without seams. They will be splendid; fashionable people won't wear anything else. There's a hundred thousand francs to be made in it.'

"'Somebody once invented seamless boots,' I replied, 'but I don't think he ever made much money, for they didn't take.'

"'Hands aren't like feet. I am sure of the success of this enterprise.'

"'Go on and make your seamless gloves, then.'

"'But I must buy the secret process first, and I can't get it for less than fifteen thousand francs.'

"'That's rather dear for a few less seams.'

"'But with that fifteen thousand francs I shall make a hundred thousand!'

"'Buy the secret, then.'

"'That's what I want to do. A mere trifle prevents me--I haven't any money; but I thought of you. You told me, you know, that it would make you unhappy if I didn't always think of you.'