Part 13

"You still have the pieces--or, at all events, the head; you can have it put on another stick."

"It was a genuine rattan."

"Pardieu! it was genuine enough; the fact that it broke so soon proves that. But there are other rattans in the shops."

"I'm very sorry that you broke my cane."

"If you hadn't lost my Chinese switch, I would have beaten him with that; and that wouldn't have broken, I promise you!"

"It makes me feel very bad--my beautiful cane!"

"Saperlotte! are you going to cry over it? Oughtn't you rather to thank me for avenging the insult to your legs? Come, take your cane, and let us go and dine; the walk has given me an appetite."

Poor Courbichon, with a lachrymose expression, took the pieces of his cane, and submitted to be led away by Cherami, who took his arm and conducted him to one of the best restaurants on the Champs-Elysees. They took their seats out-of-doors, at one of the tables surrounded by hedges in such wise as to form private rooms with walls of verdure. Courbichon placed the fragments of his cane on a chair by his side, heaving a profound sigh; for his new friend intimidated him so that he no longer dared, in his presence, to betray the chagrin caused by the spectacle of his broken treasure.

Cherami ordered the dinner, saying:

"Rely on me; I will order the dinner; and as we are sensible men and have no women with us, there's no need of our making fools of ourselves. We don't want to have a magnificent feast, but simply to dine comfortably. Is that your idea?"

"Exactly; still----"

"You have just the disposition I like! I shall mark with a white cross--_album dies!_--the day which brought us together and enabled me to return your cane. I regret that you lost my Chinese switch! but you have your cane; that's the main thing!"

Whenever his new friend mentioned his cane, Monsieur Courbichon made a wry face, but he did not venture to make any complaint. They proceeded to dine: one, talking constantly as he ate; the other, eating almost without speaking; and, although Cherami had informed his host that they would dine like sensible men, when the bill was brought, it amounted to twenty-two francs.

"That is not too much," said Cherami, passing the check to his companion; "for we have had a good dinner and punished our three bottles."

The little bald man seemed to be of a different opinion; he turned the paper over and over in his hand, muttering:

"Twenty-two francs! twenty-two francs!"

"Well, my good Courbichon, that won't drain the sea dry! How many times I have spent ten times as much on a dainty dinner, tete-a-tete with a pretty woman! To be sure, we used to have all the delicacies of the season--asparagus at thirty francs the bunch, strawberries at fifteen francs, pineapples, wine of Constance.--The women adore that wine! they delight in getting tipsy on Constance--in the bottle!--Have you ever indulged in that sort of affair, amiable Courbichon? Oh! you must have done it, many a time! That's where you lost your hair; eh, old boy?"

"Twenty-two francs! twenty-two francs!"

"Those figures seem to worry you! Do you find a mistake in the addition?"

"No, it isn't that; but I am afraid I haven't enough money with me. I paid quite a large amount at the cafe, this morning. I didn't expect to spend so much to-day. Would you be kind enough to lend me what I need?"

"I would do so with the most lively satisfaction, my estimable friend; but, as I was feeling in my pocket just now, I discovered that I have forgotten my purse; which, by the way, happens quite often, for I am very absent-minded. I may add that, when I made that discovery, I intended to borrow a few francs of you--as is often done between good friends; for what's the use of friendship, if not to oblige? O divine friendship! gift of the gods!"

"Mon Dieu! what are we going to do, if we haven't enough money between us to pay for our dinner?"

"Don't you be alarmed! I have found myself in that position more than once. You can leave your cane in pawn."

"My cane! When it was whole, that might have been--but now I can only offer some pieces of a cane as a pledge."

"Then leave your watch, my friend."

"I haven't worn it since my last one was stolen."

"But don't worry! They will give us credit on our respectable appearance."

"Let me see; with every sou I can find---- Search your pockets, too."

"Oh! that's useless; I never carry money loose in my pockets. I have my purse, or I haven't it."

Monsieur Courbichon, having collected all that he had in his pockets, could find only twelve francs and two sous. But suddenly, upon renewing his search, he produced something carefully wrapped in paper, and that something proved to be a gold piece of ten francs. The bald man's face lightened.

"Ah!" he cried; "the ten francs that I loaned to Mathieu, and that he paid back this morning; I had forgotten them. That makes up the amount and two sous over--for the waiter."

"If I were in your place," said Cherami, "I would keep Mathieu's ten francs, so that we might have something to refresh ourselves with when we go back; and I would leave my cane for the balance."

"What! you want me to ask for credit when I have enough money to pay the bill?"

"You haven't enough; for with a bill of twenty-two francs, you can't think of giving the waiter less than twenty sous; if you offer him two, he'll throw them in your face."

"If he refuses them, he'll get nothing at all--so much the worse for him! but I shall pay my bill."

"And suppose you feel the need of something while we are walking back?"

"We have dined so well that I shall not want anything."

"On the contrary, you may have an attack of indigestion--you are very red already--and then you'll want a glass of sugar and water."

"I can do without it; I am not in the habit of being sick."

"There are lots of things we're not in the habit of having, and yet they come--as, sudden death, for example; certainly one hasn't the habit of it, and it takes you all of a sudden."

Cherami's arguments were of no avail; Monsieur Courbichon held his ground. He called the waiter, paid for his dinner, and told him that he gave him only two sous because he had nothing but banknotes which he did not wish to change.

They left the restaurant. The little bald man carried the pieces of his cane, but his face wore a very unamiable expression. Cherami, who had ceased to enjoy his society, soon left him, saying:

"Give me your address, my dear friend. I will come soon and bid you good-morning."

"It is useless, monsieur; I start to-morrow for Touraine, where I expect to settle."

"What! you are leaving Paris, too? Very well; if you go to Tours, send me some plums--Rue de l'Orillon, Belleville, Hotel du Bel-Air; but prepay the freight!"

Monsieur Courbichon saluted Cherami, and hurried off as fast as his little legs would carry him, thrusting a fragment of his cane into each pocket.

XXVIII

A CONSTANT LOVER

Monsieur Gerbault transmitted his daughter's reply to the two suitors who had asked for her hand. Young Anatole took his rebuff without any indication of emotion. He said simply:

"I am very thorry, becauth our two voitheth went very well together. I am thure that we would have thung beautifully, and I am tho fond of muthic that we thould have been very happy."

The Comte de la Beriniere did not accept Adolphine's refusal of his offer so philosophically.

"Upon my word, my dear Gerbault," he exclaimed, "I have bad luck with your daughters! One marries just when I am about to ask for her hand. This one will have none of me; for I understand perfectly that her reply is simply a courteously disguised refusal. Well, I must make the best of it! I will take a trip into Italy, and try to console myself. The Italian women are not the equals of your daughters, but, at all events, they will distract my thoughts."

And, a few days later, the Comte de la Beriniere did, in fact, leave Paris.

But there was one person who was entirely unable to understand Adolphine's conduct: that was her sister Fanny. Learning that she had refused to marry either Monsieur de Raincy or the count, she went to see her one morning.

"Can what father tells me be true? You have refused to marry, when two magnificent _partis_ have offered themselves? But, no, it can't be true; you haven't done that! or else you were sick at the time. Surely you didn't realize what you said, when you gave father that answer?"

"Indeed I did, my dear love," Adolphine replied, with a smile; "I knew perfectly well what I was saying; I had considered the matter fully when I refused to marry those gentlemen."

"Upon my word, I don't understand you! What reason, what motives, can have prompted your refusal? The Comte de la Beriniere has thirty thousand francs a year; and he would make you a countess. Just think of it--a countess! Isn't it perfectly bewildering to think of being called Madame la Comtesse?"

"It tempts me very little."

"To be sure, the count is no longer young; but, once married, if you knew, my dear girl, how little you think about your husband's age! Auguste might be sixty years old, now, and it would be all the same to me."

"My ideas are not at all the same as yours, as I have already told you."

"But I have had experience now, and you ought to listen to me. Come, let us admit that you refused the count because you thought he was too old, which is the merest childishness--that reason doesn't apply in the case of Monsieur de Raincy; he is young, good-looking----"

"He has a stupid, self-sufficient manner."

"But what difference does that make? I have always heard it said that a stupid man makes an excellent husband. I should be glad enough if my husband was stupid! Then he wouldn't keep flinging little sarcastic remarks at me when I talk about the state of the market--of the rise or fall in railway shares. Auguste is clever--yes, very clever. But what good does it do me to have him clever and agreeable in society? In his own home, a husband never uses his wit except to make sport of his wife. Monsieur Anatole de Raincy isn't as rich as the count, but he has a very good position in society. Where do you expect to find a better match?"

"I expect nothing."

"Why do you refuse these offers, then?"

"Because I do not love either of them."

"Ah! an excellent reason! How absurd you are, my poor Adolphine! Happiness in wedlock does not consist in love, but in wealth, in luxury, in the power to buy whatever we please, to have magnificent dresses which drive other women mad, to go to balls and parties every day, to have the best boxes at the theatre; not in having to sit sighing by your husband while you watch the soup-kettle."

"I have told you before that my tastes aren't the same as yours."

"Oh! you say that, but, in reality, you would be very glad to cut as fine a figure yourself. But you are romantic! perhaps you have a passion hidden away in your heart. Oh! yes, to refuse two such chances as you have had, you must be in love with somebody!"

Adolphine blushed, but made haste to reply:

"No, you are mistaken. I never think of any man; it is not right of you to say that."

"Very well! then, my dear girl, I say again that it was perfectly absurd of you to refuse those two! Adieu! I am going to select some flowers for my head, for I am going to a large party to-night, and I propose to eclipse all the other women."

Some little time after this interview, Adolphine was alone, thinking of him whose image was always present in her mind; for she had not told her sister the truth when she said that she never thought of any man; but there are passions which one does not choose to confide except to a heart capable of understanding them, and she was well aware that Fanny would not understand hers.

Madeleine suddenly entered her mistress's room, and said:

"Mamzelle, a young man wants to speak to you."

"To me? He probably has business with my father."

"No, mamzelle; it was you he asked to see--and monsieur your father isn't at home, either."

"Very well! show him in."

Soon the door opened anew, and Gustave appeared before Adolphine. The girl uttered an exclamation, for she recognized him at once; and she was so disturbed that she had to lean upon a chair.

"What! is it you, Monsieur Gustave?" she murmured.

Madeleine retired, for she read in her mistress's eyes that the visit caused her no displeasure.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Adolphine," Gustave replied; "yes, my dear sister. Ah! allow me to call you by that name still, as I used, for we have had no falling-out; you have not spurned me, and I venture to hope that you still feel for me a little of that sweet friendship which you seemed to feel in the old days."

Adolphine was so perturbed that she could hardly stammer:

"Of course--yes--I have no reason not to be the same as always with you. But do sit down, Monsieur Gustave. Mon Dieu!--how strange it is!--it's only five months since we saw each other--and you seem changed---- Oh! not for the worse--on the contrary--you have a more serious, more thoughtful, air than before. Is it the result of your travels?"

Adolphine was right; the five months which Gustave had passed away from France had wrought a very considerable change in him, to his advantage; he had lost that bewildered, hare-brained look which people used to criticise in him; now he was a man--young, no doubt, but whose serious, sedate, sensible aspect indicated a person who was accustomed to think before speaking, and to reflect before acting. His face had gained vastly by the change; his manner was colder, perhaps, but you realized that you could rely on what he said. Lastly, the faintest shadow of melancholy that could still be detected on his brow gave an added charm to the gentle expression of his eyes and to the tone of his voice.

Adolphine saw all this at a glance: that is all a woman needs to draw a man's portrait. With trembling hand she pointed to a chair, and Gustave sat down beside her with an ease of manner which covered no hidden motive.

"I don't know whether my travels have changed me," said the young man; "they may, perhaps, have matured my mind somewhat; they have made me a better business man. I realize fully now that I did some things which lacked common-sense, and I shall not make such a fool of myself again!"

"Oh! you are cured of your love for Fanny?" cried Adolphine, with an expression of delight which she could not restrain.

"No, dear Adolphine, no, that is not what I meant!" replied Gustave, sadly; "do what I will, I haven't yet been able to drive that love from my heart. But I meant simply that that unhappy passion will not lead me into doing any more such absurd, unreasonable things as I once did. I have become a man; if I suffer, I can at least conceal my suffering. I have learned to respect the happiness of other people--the desire to disturb it is very far from my thoughts! I realize, in short, that I ought, above all things, to avoid the presence of her who cannot, should not, sympathize with the pain she causes me."

Adolphine turned her head away to conceal the tears which filled her eyes, murmuring:

"Mon Dieu! do you still love her as dearly as ever?"

"I don't know whether it is less or more--I don't know how much I love her; and I would give anything in the world to cease thinking of her! But I cannot--do what I will, her image is always here. I forget that she flirted with me--that she pretended to love me, only to throw me over the next minute. I say to myself that all women try to please, and that they cannot love all the men they have fascinated. I say to myself that this Monsieur Auguste Monleard offered her a brilliant fortune, and all the pleasures, all the enjoyment, all the luxury, in which, to a young woman, the happiness of life consists.--I say all this to myself, and I understand perfectly how she could have refused the poor clerk's hand to accept that of the man who was wealthy and distinguished. So that, if I am unhappy, I can blame nothing but fortune--and Fanny is so pretty, so fascinating, so well worthy to shine in society! She will never be mine, and yet I love her--yes, I still love her! They say that men don't know the meaning of constancy; but you see that that isn't true, Adolphine; you see that there are some who can love faithfully--and, unluckily, they are the ones who are not loved."

Adolphine did not reply for some time; she was suffocating, she could not keep back the tears which dimmed her sight. Gustave saw them; he seized her hand and pressed it, crying:

"You weep--dear sister!--my unhappiness makes you shed tears. Oh! forgive me for coming here and grieving you by the story of my suffering."

"Yes--it does grieve me to know that you are unhappy! But, after all, it seems to me that you ought to try--that you do not make enough effort to divert your thoughts; you see, when one has no hope, one ought to forget."

"Oh! that makes no difference at all."

"Yes, it is possible.--How long since you returned to Paris?"

"Only last evening; and, as you see, I came to you at once this morning."

"Yes--to talk to me about her!"

"I admit it--but to see you, too,--you who have always shown me so much affection, and whom I am so happy to call my sister still!"

"Oh! of course--because that was the name you gave me when you were to marry Fanny! But you don't know--I have not dared to tell you that father says that you must not come to our house any more!"

"Not come here any more! Why not, pray?"

"Why, because of that unfortunate duel----"

"Duel! What do you mean? What duel?"

"What! you don't know? Hasn't your uncle told you about it?"

"I told you that I only arrived last night; my uncle talked about nothing but matters of business, which are of much more importance in his eyes than anything else. Tell me what duel you are talking about?"

"Do you remember the man who dined with you on the day of my sister's wedding?"

"Yes, a curious creature whom I happened to meet--and who took pity on the state of frenzy I was in at that time."

"Was he a friend of yours?"

"As I tell you, I had known him only a few hours; but I had lost my head that day; you know that better than anybody, dear Adolphine, for you found time, even on that day, to come to me and say a few comforting words.--But what about that man?"

"Well, at night, when my sister went away from the ball with her husband, he was standing near, just as they were entering their carriage. That man--he was drunk, no doubt, but still he insulted my sister."

"The villain! He dared----"

"Yes, he said: 'There goes the faithless Fanny!'--My sister, who heard the words plainly, told me herself. Was that an insult? Tell me frankly, Monsieur Gustave, hadn't you yourself applied that name to my sister more than once that day?"

"It is quite possible; but I was out of my head, I didn't know what I was saying. That did not give that fellow, whose very name I don't remember, the right to repeat my words."

"Auguste heard him, and the next day he fought a duel with the man."

"And what was the result?"

"A sword-thrust in my brother-in-law's forearm, which forced him to carry his arm in a sling at least six weeks."

"Mon Dieu! that incident may well have occasioned unfortunate scenes between the husband and wife; it may have disturbed the domestic happiness of--your sister. She probably accused me of being the original cause of the duel! This is maddening!"

"Don't be alarmed, Monsieur Gustave! you don't know Fanny! The affair affected her very little, her happiness wasn't disturbed by it for a single minute. She goes to some festivity, amuses herself in some way, every day! Oh! she is happy."

"So much the better! And her husband--he adores her still, I fancy?"

"As to that, I can't answer. If they adore each other, it hardly appears on the surface!"

"What! Fanny doesn't love her husband?"

"I don't say that she doesn't love him! but my sister isn't capable of loving like us--like you, I mean. She has so much to take up her time in the way of gowns, head-dresses, new styles, and so forth! How do you suppose she can find time to love her husband?"

"However, I am entirely innocent in this matter of the duel."

"Oh! that is what I have always told father, who has only known it a few days, by the way. For, as you can imagine, they didn't publish it. Monsieur Monleard's injury was supposed to have been caused by a fall on the stairs."

"But why doesn't your father want me to come here? It wasn't a crime to love his elder daughter and to aspire to her hand! It is true, I was very poor, then; to-day, I could offer her more; my uncle, who is very well satisfied with the way I attend to business now, said to me at breakfast this morning: 'From to-day, I give you an interest in my business, and I guarantee you not less than ten thousand francs a year, whether there are any profits or not.'"

"Ah! that is very nice, Monsieur Gustave; I am very glad for you."

"Dear little sister! If you knew how indifferently I received the news of this increase in my income! Ah! that isn't what I look to for happiness!"

"Nor I, either! But, as so many people think differently, probably we are wrong."

"I am thinking about your father, who doesn't want me to come here any more."

"In the first place, he was convinced that there would be no need to say anything to you about it; that you would never have any desire to come to our house again."

"Why so, pray?"

"I don't know why; for my part, I didn't think as he did. Something told me that you would come--to hear about Fanny--to talk about her. I guessed right, did I not?"

"Yes, yes! you read my heart."

"For I know very well that that was the only reason it occurred to you to come here."

"Do you think that I am not fond of you--of you and your father?"

"Oh! I don't say that; but my father fears--suppose you should meet my sister here?"

"I should be able to act with her as with a person who was a total stranger to me. Does she come to see you often?"

"No, not often. She has so many other calls to make! She knows so many people now!"

At that moment the bell rang.

"Mon Dieu!" said Adolphine; "if it should be my father!"

"Why, I will go and offer him my hand, and I am sure that he won't refuse it."

"But if it should be----"

Adolphine had not time to finish her sentence. The door of her chamber was hastily thrown open, and her sister entered.

XXIX

A WOMAN OF FASHION

Fanny was resplendent in costume, jewels, and style; and it must be said that, like all women with whom personal adornment is a special study, she carried her splendor well, and that it added materially to the attractions she had received from nature.

The young woman was nowise perturbed at sight of Gustave Darlemont; she honored him with an affable smile, and her vanity seemed flattered that he whose hand she had refused should see her now in all the glory of her good-fortune and her magnificent toilet. Adolphine, on the contrary, was pale and trembling. As for Gustave, he could not conceal the emotion he felt on seeing Fanny again, and especially in such seductive guise.

"Bonjour, little sister!" said Fanny, kissing Adolphine.--"But, I cannot be mistaken--this is Monsieur Gustave. I am delighted to see you, monsieur."

Gustave barely managed to stammer:

"Madame--I confess that I did not expect--to meet you here."

"Why, it seems to me quite natural that I should come to my father's house. To be sure, it doesn't happen very often: I have so little time to myself! When one goes much into society, one must make and receive so many calls, dress, give orders when one entertains. And, by the way, we give a large party in six days, to inaugurate our winter evenings.--I came to tell you, Adolphine, so that you may have time to prepare a bewitching costume, do you hear? I will advise you, of course, for you don't keep very well abreast of the fashions.--But I thought that you were abroad, Monsieur Gustave?"